At twenty-seven, she entered early menopause as a result of treatments she chose in her fight against multiple sclerosis. Diagnosed at fifteen, Jessica Faulds spent years trying different DMTs, recovering from relapses, and learning how to speak up for her own care.
Welcome to Hope and Health. Today we're talking to Jessica Faulds, an MS warrior, plant-based nutritional expert, and motivational speaker who uses her diagnosis with multiple sclerosis to inspire others. Jessica shares her remarkable 19 year journey from diagnosis at age 15 to becoming symptom free after a stem cell transplant.
Jessica is now in year 19 since her MS diagnosis, which always surprises people when they learn she was diagnosed at just 15 years old. It started when she woke up one morning with her left eye frozen in place. She managed to hide it from her parents for a day, staying in bed. But at dinner that evening, her mom noticed something was wrong and took her straight to the hospital.
As they drove to the hospital, the song "Double Vision" by Foreigner came on the radio. Her mom, despite the stress, found humor in the moment, pointing out the song described Jessica's situation perfectly. This early example of her family's ability to find lightness in dark moments would become a pattern throughout Jessica's journey.
The emergency room initially thought her eye was tired from playing her first video game the night before and told them to see an eye doctor if it didn't improve by Monday. The eye doctor, clearly inexperienced with such cases, was shaking as he examined her and told 15 year old Jessica she either had a brain tumor or was diabetic. He literally dragged her mom into the waiting room, handed her a phone book, and told her to call their family doctor.
Fortunately, their family doctor remained calm and got them into Sick Kids Hospital in Toronto. Within a month, doctors were 90% sure it was MS, but they needed to show progression. Three months later, after additional MRIs, the diagnosis was confirmed: 100% MS.
Jessica was given a choice of four different disease modifying therapies. In 2007, more options existed but weren't approved for children, so she had to wait until turning 18 for access to those. She chose a drug called Betaseron and stayed on it for about three and a half years. While it did a decent job and she was only having about one relapse per year, Jessica developed an unusual problem.
She actually rejected the act of giving herself injections. The physical trauma of repeatedly injecting herself caused nerve damage in both her legs, not from the medication itself, which was working fine, but from the act of administering the needles. At 18, she had to stop the injections entirely.
From day one, Jessica's parents took a remarkable approach. They told her, "You're in charge." They insisted she read everything about the medications, do her own research, come to them with her choice, and then they'd have a discussion together. This pattern continued throughout her entire journey with MS.
The first few times they had to do needles together weren't fun. Her mom was crying, Jessica was crying, there was screaming. But her parents were there every step of the way, becoming what Jessica calls "big troopers" through the many health challenges that followed.
At 18, Jessica talked to her doctor about switching to Tysabri, which worked for about three years. However, she's JCV antibody positive, which puts patients at high risk for brain infection, so she decided to stop. She then tried Gilenya, which wasn't a good fit.
Next came Lemtrada, which came with a dramatic asterisk. During her first year on Lemtrada, Jessica contracted Legionnaires' disease and necrotizing pneumonia, landing her in the hospital for three weeks with only 10% lung function. Her parents joke that if something's going to go wrong, it's going to go wrong for Jessica.
Remarkably, just three months after that near death experience, she ran her first half marathon.
During university, while pursuing her first degree, Jessica took her first nutrition course. This sparked a deep dive into nutrition research that eventually led her to complete a second degree in nutrition and then a holistic certification. She tried various approaches including the Terry Wahls protocol, which includes organ meats. She has a memorable story about driving around London, Ontario to eight different butchers trying to find a cow heart, finally cooking it into a stew, and then being unable to eat it herself. Her roommate loved it because it was free, but Jessica couldn't do it.
She was vegetarian for a long time and tried gluten free, dairy free, paleo approaches. What ultimately worked best for her was a vegan plant-based diet, which she continues to follow today.
Despite nutrition, exercise, and disease modifying therapies, Jessica's MS continued progressing. She moved from Ontario to Calgary in January 2018, inspired by MS summer camps she'd attended there. Her new neurologist, young and progressive with a good understanding of diet and exercise, reviewed her MRI in late 2018 and didn't like what he saw.
Two weeks before Christmas, he called and said her MRI showed progression they don't like to see after Lemtrada. He wanted her to consider a stem cell transplant as part of a trial they were conducting in Calgary. Jessica, for lack of a better word, told him to "pound sand." She'd done everything doctors told her for 13 years, tried every treatment, eaten all the right things, and she was done.
He suggested she think about it over the holidays and talk to her parents. Following their long established pattern, Jessica went home, they discussed it, and ultimately decided to proceed as long as she could preserve her fertility. That was the critical condition for Jessica.
In February 2019, Jessica began the stem cell process. This also happened to be the month she met her fiancé. Talk about trial by fire. In April and May of 2019, she successfully harvested about 20 eggs, which are somewhere on ice in Calgary.
Then came the chemotherapy in June. She underwent what's called an Autologous Hematopoietic Stem Cell Transplant, meaning they used her own stem cells harvested from her blood. The process involved doing chemotherapy, then daily GCSF shots for five days to pull stem cells from bone marrow into the bloodstream for easier harvesting.
Jessica had reactions to seemingly everything. First, there was a terrible rash they thought was from Band-Aid adhesive. After harvesting her stem cells with impressive numbers, they removed her port because of the reactions and she could go back to boxing for three weeks.
When they put in a PICC line for the next phase, her arm started swelling that night. As they tried to cut off the gauze to get to the hospital, she accidentally cut the line. That's when they discovered she's also allergic to chlorhexidine, the standard cleaning solution used in hospitals.
Jessica was admitted to the hospital for about a month. During this time, she underwent 11 rounds of chemotherapy in just 8 days. Every day, they'd hook her up to chemo. Around day three or four, doctors told her to stop flossing her teeth. When she asked why, they explained that if her platelet count dropped below 50, her blood wouldn't clot properly, and even a small nick to her gums could be dangerous.
A couple days later, they needed to give her a blood transfusion but had run out of her blood type. Jessica has a rare blood type, A negative. They wanted to give her A positive with medication. Jessica, knowing statistically that things tend to go wrong for her, asked what would happen if they didn't do the transfusion. They told her current platelet count was four. She took the blood.
After the 11 rounds of chemotherapy came what Jessica describes as an "Indiana Jones moment." Four or five medical professionals entered carrying her stem cells in a little cradle, defrosting them. They hooked the stem cells up to her IV and watched her for 15 minutes, concerned about reactions to the preservative. Then they gave her a high five and left. Jessica calls it the most anticlimactic moment imaginable, though her parents brought balloons for a party.
After being released, Jessica had to return daily for monitoring, then every other day, then twice a week, gradually stretching out the intervals. The doctors would fight over her, asking what she did that day, how much exercise, what she was eating, because she was knocking off recovery milestones at an unprecedented pace.
During the GCSF shots before transplant, Jessica was running 7 to 8 kilometers a day and still boxing (which made the nurses mad). Within a week and a half of her transplant, she was back to boxing. The doctors said she holds the record for the fastest stem cell recovery. She was back to work within 5 weeks on a slow return schedule and back in the gym within a week and a half.
People were astounded. Her dad was able to make it home in time for her parents' wedding anniversary. Jessica attributes her rapid recovery to maintaining exercise and nutrition throughout the process.
That was about six and a half years ago, and Jessica has had nothing since. No relapses, no progression. Her MRIs are stable and actually show improvement. She's become so neurologically pristine that when doctors examine her, they can't tell she had MS unless they have her file. The only remaining issue is balance, but Jessica notes she's always been a bit klutzy.
She now teaches eight fitness classes a week, doing the workouts alongside her students. For anyone watching, this redefines what MS can look like two decades out.
The intensive chemotherapy came with a major side effect. Jessica entered menopause at 27. The amount of chemotherapy, 11 rounds in 8 days, essentially "nuked" her ovaries and eggs. Doctors warned there was a 90% chance this would happen, though they don't call it menopause when you're 27. The medical term, coined by a man as Jessica points out, is "ovarian failure." After beating MS, she jokes, now she has ovarian failure.
Within about a month of chemotherapy, she started having severe hot flashes and heartburn for the first time. She went to her hematologist insisting she was in menopause and needed intervention. They wanted to give her a year to let hormones settle, but Jessica refused. She demanded a hormone specialist, specifically a female one, and started hormone replacement therapy right away.
This decision proved medically sound. At 27, Jessica hadn't even reached peak bone density, which typically occurs around age 35. Women need estrogen for bone density, and she no longer produced it. Recent research has shown that for women entering menopause, the earlier you start hormone replacement, the better. Waiting is actually detrimental.
Jessica continues taking hormones daily and sees her hormone specialist regularly for adjustments. To this day, her ovaries are so small they're difficult to find on ultrasounds, a fact she finds comical when technicians get concerned.
Today, Jessica's protocol is straightforward. She takes hormones daily, follows a plant based vegan diet, and teaches about eight fitness classes per week. She works out with every class she teaches, meaning at least eight workouts weekly.
She was told at 15 that there was a 50/50 chance she'd be secondary progressive and wheelchair bound within 10 to 15 years. That statistic has since changed, but it was her reality as a teenager. Now, 19 years later, she's teaching fitness eight times a week.
Jessica follows what she calls a plant based diet, noting that "vegan" tends to be triggering for people. She eats no dairy, no meat, no eggs, and as little processed food as possible. She and her partner make almost everything from scratch. If she wants a cookie, it's a homemade cookie. She does have a piece of dark chocolate every night, but otherwise maintains strict dietary discipline.
The ethical component matters to Jessica too. When she sees meat, she sees a baby pig or a cow, which makes it easy not to eat. She tells people working with her nutritionally that slips will happen. You'll eat something you really wanted. That's okay. You acknowledge it happened and move to the next day.
The discipline comes from feeling better. When she eats well, she feels better. When she exercises, she feels better. And importantly, they don't buy foods that don't fit the plan, so temptation isn't sitting in the house.
Jessica credits her parents for her positive mindset. From the day she was diagnosed, driving to the hospital with "Double Vision" playing on the radio, her mom was able to find humor. Jessica has always had the personality type that asks, "Okay, what's next?" You can be sad for 24 hours, then what's next? It could always be worse.
Her partner notices that if Jessica goes more than 48 hours without exercise, you can tell personality wise. The healthy habits keep her grounded. Exercise and eating well aren't just physical practices for Jessica; they're essential for mental wellbeing.
Jessica's story is one of constant self advocacy. When she wanted to switch from Gilenya to Lemtrada, she compiled all her research, went to her doctor at Sunnybrook Hospital, and told him, "We can have a discussion, but by the time I leave today, you're going to sign the paper and I'm switching to Lemtrada."
When doctors wanted her to wait a year before starting hormone replacement therapy, she demanded a hormone specialist immediately. When her disease was progressing, she told her neurologist to consider the stem cell transplant.
She advises others, especially women, to advocate for themselves. Statistically, women take longer to get diagnosed for almost anything, and their pain is written off more easily. Her advice: go prepared, do your research, and when doctors say "it's not that," ask for three other options it could be. Have a dialogue.
She also emphasizes that you can shop around for doctors. She's had neurologists she didn't like, ones who told her diet and exercise didn't make a difference, people with viewpoints incompatible with how she wanted to approach her health. She asked for different neurologists, explaining that certain relationships wouldn't be conducive to good health for her.
For people who feel timid in medical settings, Jessica's advice is simple: bring backup. Bring someone who will have your back. When she was growing up, it was her parents. This gave her the foundation to eventually advocate for herself confidently. Now she serves as backup for her partner, her mother in law, and others, being a sounding board even though she's not a doctor.
Unlike many people who avoid the MS community initially, Jessica was involved from day one. The year after her diagnosis, her family did the MS Walk together. Jessica was hesitant, worried about seeing older people in wheelchairs and scary portrayals of the disease. But at the walk, she wore the sign saying "I have MS, that's why I walk," and as clearly the youngest person there with that sign, cameras followed her family all day.
This led to summer camps for kids with MS, which Jessica attended from age 16 to 23. She has about 30 friends from camp who are her age with MS, including someone she calls her "MS little brother," Tyrell, who's 6'2" and finds it hilarious to introduce tiny Jessica as his big sister.
At camp, MS wasn't strange. Thirty five kids, all around 17, all with MS, comparing medications and injection schedules, going to get needles together. It normalized the disease in a profound way.
Jessica shares an important story about dating with MS. She once dated someone who, after hearing a story about a woman whose husband left during a bad MS relapse, looked Jessica in the eyes and said he'd be gone so fast. They never had another date. Jessica wished him a nice life and moved on.
Then in February 2019, right as she started the stem cell transplant process, she met her current fiancé. She thinks she told him on their second date that she had MS and was doing a stem cell transplant. He didn't run away. He bought her her first video game and visited her in the hospital three times a week. When she asks why he stayed, he says, "Well, if I didn't hang out with chemo Jess, I didn't get post chemo Jess."
Jessica's rule was always to tell within 3 to 5 dates. Later, she moved it to by date two. She used it as a way to weed out people who weren't right for her. If someone can't handle it, better to know now.
Jessica has a letter from her neurologist to the Alberta government that says for all intents and purposes, she can be considered cured. The letter came about because Alberta required her to do a driver's medical every five years due to her MS disclosure. Not wanting to pay $200 for her family doctor to sign paperwork, she asked her neurologist to do it. He couldn't sign off on her heart, but he did her "one better" and wrote to the government saying this no longer applies to Jessica. If anything changes, they'll let them know.
After 5 years with nothing wrong, doctors consider her stable. Her doctors say it's like her immune system never knew she had MS. Even regarding pregnancy, typically the highest risk time for relapse is after giving birth, her doctors don't think MS will come back. Her mom's biggest fear is something happening after Jessica has a baby, but the medical team is confident.
Jessica's plans for the next 10 years include kids, continuing to teach fitness, and writing more. She maintains a Substack where she shares nutrition meal plans weekly and writes about IVF, women's health, advocating for yourself, and nutrition. Most importantly, she wants to be happy.
Her goal is to reach 110 years old, which means living with MS for about 95 years. Though after six years post transplant with no progression, that MS presence may just be a footnote in a very long, healthy life.
