The photographer questions ambiguously whether there’s a ponytail at the back of Cillian O’Sullivan’s head. The footballer from Meath, who was previously grinning at the camera while seated on some stairs, now sported a serious look and confirmed the existence of his ‘topknot’. The ensuing banter revolved around a rogue hair sticking out from the left side of O’Sullivan’s head. The photographer’s implication was clear – it was disrupting the perfect shot, though he never directly stated it.
“Give me a break,” O’Sullivan retorted playfully, letting his hair down, reverting to its natural state. “You do know I have MS, right?”.
Life for the professional sportsman has taken a drastic turn over the past 10 months. He faces his new reality of living with Multiple Sclerosis with an odd sense of humour now. A robust individual, grounded in facts, and being a doctor of clinical psychology, O’Sullivan isn’t one to neglect the importance of his diagnosis. It is a frightening reality that will remain for the rest of his life. Yet, having endured a lot, he can still appreciate the lighter side of things when possible.
For instance, on his return to Meath’s full-contact training after being diagnosed, he emphasised he desired no special treatment. Donal Keogan, the team’s emotional cornerstone, complied, making his intention clear during the first play. “He totalled me,” O’Sullivan recalled, chuckling. “That was grand. To me, it was the perfect display of compassion.”
Additionally, the time at St Vincent’s Hospital when the neurologist inquired if he or his wife Caoimhe had experimented with any substances like ayahuasca during their travels in South America. Which he clarified wasn’t the kind of escapade they had embarked on.
Instead, their journey was a rather different one. The couple was on their honeymoon last December, recognising the one-year anniversary of their engagement proposal. He had been feeling a persistent tingling in his fingers for a few weeks. However, it had intensified, spreading up his left side to the point where he was struggling to even utilise a knife and fork during their dinner.
Initially, I speculated a trapped nerve was the culprit that would self-correct over time. However, during our visit to Argentina, the reality of my condition was highlighted when Caoimhe had to slice my steak due to my inability to manoeuvre the cutlery. Simple tasks such as tying my shoes began to seem impossible.
My hand was perpetually in my pocket as it became pretty useless. Even handling money felt like a task I was relearning, comparable to the clumsiness of an infant’s hand, unable to execute commands diligently.
Our salvation came in the form of our hotel owner who facilitated an urgent scan at a nearby hospital, the results of which were promptly dispatched to Ireland for analysis by my team’s doctor, John Holian, and our physio, Paul Conneely. Being summoned by a phone call from Conneely at an ungodly hour sent an undeniable signal that something was grievously wrong with my health.
Despite the vast difference in time zones, Conneely’s call was no trivial matter. He communicated that the scan indicated some anomalies and necessitated an immediate return to Ireland for further investigation. My spinal cord showed inexplicable white spots that later turned out to be a major, grotesque lesion.
Having paid ample attention to my neuropsychology classes, I had a horrifying hunch of the potential implications. On enquiry, Conneely conveyed the possibility of Multiple Sclerosis (MS), though nothing was confirmed yet.
By the dawn of Tuesday, we were alerted about the potential health concern. Fast forward to Wednesday evening, and we were back in Dublin. By the next morning, I was subjected to an array of diagnostic tests in St Vincent’s hospital. The diagnosis was confirmed rather swiftly: I was suffering from Relapsing-Remitting Multiple Sclerosis, considered to be the milder form of the disease.
Fundamentally, MS is an auto-immune condition, where the immune system turns rebellious and falsely identifies elements within the body as foreign bodies. It’s strange when the biological system which is meant to protect you starts overfunctioning and turns against you.
It pillaged my brain and spinal cord. Specifically, it attacked my spinal cord’s protective layer. The left-sided lesion was the cause behind the dysfunction of my body’s left side.”
Over time, situations began to fall into place. The inability to carve a steak in Argentina marked the moment lava erupted from a volcano, but he soon understood that the magma had been gathering for an extended duration. He had been enduring restless nights for nearly 12 months. His equilibrium was slightly off. Now and then, his sight had been somewhat fuzzy.
Since 2014, O’Sullivan has competed for Meath. Based on data collated by the infamous @TheNumbersGael, only three players – Keogan, Graham Reilly, and Bryan Menton, have showcased more matches for Meath than him through the last 15 seasons of league and championship. However, in 2023, by his own disclosure, his performance had been subpar. But now, he discovered the reason.
“In March ’23, we competed against Kildare in a league match. A ball was approaching me in the initial half, and I was utterly clueless as to where exactly that ball was or how to grab it”, he expressed, reflecting on his disoriented perception. Then suddenly, the ball collided with him, and it swiftly disappeared over the sideline.
He experienced this scenario a couple more times during the contest, fumbling around with the balls. Musing over what was going wrong, he was rightfully substituted. He recalled visiting Specsavers after that game, hoping to get his vision corrected. His vision test, however, showed that his eyesight was perfect – 20/20.
Understanding there was an underlying cause behind these occurrences was one part of the puzzle. Coping with it was quite another. He spent an entire week in a hospital, receiving steroids and medications and resting adequately. But it wasn’t as if he was released from the hospital and everything was back to normal. He was still unable to properly utilise his left hand, a skill that wouldn’t return for several months.
That was in December. In January of the following year, he and Caoimhe hosted a New Year’s party, inviting guests that couldn’t attend their intimate wedding in June the previous year. Recently, he noticed in pictures that his left arm and hand were just hanging by his side, unwieldly. Onlookers.
“Becoming accustomed to a body that could no longer execute my commands was an unusual experience,” he remarks. As a sportsperson, you’re at the pinnacle of physical capabilities, thus it was somewhat peculiar to reside in a body that failed to perform my wishes.
The frustration was truly intense on numerous occasions. I was incessantly striving to regain my motor skills and sensations. It prompted me to invent a myriad of gadgets and methods.
“My goal was to hold a ball in my hand and feel its touch again. My continuous strolling around our flat holding a football drove Caoimhe to distraction. The objective was to become familiar with it and rebuild that sensation. It was essentially a retraining process for my arm to regain its feeling.”
They planned out a strategy. He would enter the hospital every six months for an immunosuppressant infusion session. Post-infusion, he would be slightly frail for a few days as his immune system part was pruned on each visit. Apart from that, he was required to rest, diminish stress, consume Vitamin D and that was the crux of it, at least for the current time.
“I’m undergoing DMTs – disease modifying therapies. The purpose is to decelerate the disease’s progression. This condition is permanent. It’s here to stay. There’s no remedy. Yet, there isn’t an exact reason why I acquired it in the first place. Learnings both these facts were immensely relieving. I accepted its existence rather swiftly.”
“On the matter of football’s role in my life, I realised quite early that no one suggested I cease playing. Be it the neurologist, team doctor, physio, my kin, or even Caoimhe. Therefore, in the absence of any objections, I resolved to embrace the sport with utmost dedication to see its potential influence on me.”
In January, he reconnected with Meath even though his arm was far from being football-fit. But that didn’t deter him from participating, doing some runs and getting involved in the team. Some straightforward discussions happened with Colm O’Rourke and the team selectors – he expressed his intention not to be kept around for sympathy. However, he asked for a chance to get back in shape for the summer season and was ready to give it his all.
The game of football revealed a different side to him. Previously, it was about securing wins in championship games and ensuring a well-performing team. Even though these aspects remained, there was an additional dimension to it. The sport provided an outlet for his emotional processing and management.
There was a broader perspective towards life noticeable through the sport. He strongly felt that if he could get back to playing intercounty-level football, he could take on any challenge in life. It was an assurance against the daunting effect of MS on his life. Thus, getting back to the game at a high level became a beacon or a guiding point for him to tackle any future hurdles.
The journey wasn’t quick or easy. Simple chores like tying laces continued to be a battle for him. His closest friend in the Meath panel, James McEntee, who was aware of his situation, would often lend a hand in these small tasks without drawing attention to it. A true act of kindness.
Gradually, he overcame one step at a time. Though he sat out the league, by mid-April he was included in the 26 for the Leinster quarter-final against Dublin. In May and June, he participated in the games against Louth, Monaghan and Kerry in the All-Ireland series. Even though Meath lost all four matches, and his form wasn’t up to par, it didn’t matter.
In just half a year, O’Sullivan managed an astounding transition – from struggling with everyday tasks, to receiving a life-altering MS diagnosis, and then making it back to play championship football for Meath. At 30, he has no intention of retiring yet. And if he’s not part of Robbie Brennan’s Meath panel next spring, it surely won’t be because he decided to focus on his MS.
The daily existence with this does not hugely affect me. Sure, there are moments of occasional numbness, but it generally does not interfere with my routine. It’s easy to ignore, which is a blessing. However, the invisible nature of multiple sclerosis (MS) is intriguing.
Anytime something is out of the ordinary, I am compelled to ponder whether it’s a symptom or repercussion of my condition. That lingering thought will always persist. Yet, I cannot attribute everything to it. Tripping over something, for example, can’t instantly be blamed on MS. As long as I’m still capable of slicing through my meal, I know I’m coping well.
Life with this condition is a constant journey. I don’t wish to portray an image of my life as an unblemished, delightful journey. There are indeed challenging times, days when situations can be tough to deal with. But I believe it’s crucial to embrace these episodes of fear and anxiety to welcome the array of emotions they carry. Neglecting them will only lead to their unexpected emergence down the line.
Knowing that I’ll be able to handle whatever comes my way in the future provides me with a comforting sense of reassurance. This doesn’t imply that it will be easy; far from it. The past nine months have been a strenuous period. But I’m confident in my capability to confront it.