Monthly Archives: October 2013

Oct 11 2013
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Work and Studying

Free At Last…..

graduationThe books have been packed up, the paperwork has been shredded and my house has been cleared of post-it notes and last-minute scribbles.

I sat my last ever university exam on Wednesday and it’s all over bar the marking. It’s been a rocky old road to get here. It was a part-time six-year degree and as regular readers will know, I had a fully-functioning brain until two years ago when MS came along and messed around with it.

Since then, it’s been an uphill struggle. I nearly gave up after five years, but quite fancied the (Hons) after my name so ploughed on for another year. It was worth it though and the sense of achievement has been incredible, as was the bottle of bubbly I had waiting in the fridge.

I’ve been lucky. My MS nurse has written a letter in my defence, something along the lines of, ‘…please excuse Stumbling, her cat ate her study notes and her brain doesn’t work properly’. Which is just as well. I struggle to remember my shopping list, so how on earth was I supposed to remember a whole year’s worth of facts, ready to regurgitate onto blank paper? In my shaky handwriting?

It didn’t help when a fellow student emailed me the day before asking if I had revised Esping Anderson. If I knew what it/he/she was, perhaps I might have. As it was, to me it just sounded like an Ikea dining table.

Anyway, I arrived at the exam centre, ignored the last minute swotters, and took my seat. I set out my pens and bottle of water. The woman next to me set out a lucky teddy, three bottles of water, two packets of nuts and a bag of chocolate buttons (where did she think we were, a cinema?). The clock on the wall ticked round to 10am and we turned our papers over.

I was obviously in the wrong exam, sitting the wrong paper and toyed with the idea of pretending to faint. But as if by magic, the words rearranged themselves and they actually started to make sense. Three hours later, and with a lot of padding and random waffling, I was done. I clicked my pen off and shuffled the papers together.

As I left, I noticed the woman sadly pack her teddy away. I stumbled out the building, high on relief and headed home to google Esping Anderson.

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Oct 09 2013
12 Comments
Symptoms and Treatment

I’m Well Adjusted…

I've Got Your BackMy chiropractor called me the other day and said, ‘oi, your boss has just been in for an appointment and told me you don’t want to book in as you think you’re too fat. Don’t be daft, come in!’

‘Can’t. Too fat. Could break your bench, honestly. Potentially very, very embarrassing.’

I’ve been visiting the chiropractor for over 12 years now. He magically sorted out my neck problems, brought on by exiting a car through the roof at high speed (not classy, pretty painful) and he’s also treated The Teenager since he was a toddler.

That Fateful Day two years ago when I woke up unable to speak or walk properly, he was the first person I called. After talking gibberish, he summoned me to his clinic, ran through some neurological tests and quietly told me to go straight to hospital. He was the first to put MS on the table and helped keep me sane through the long, anxiety-ridden diagnostic process.

Anyway, I went to the clinic, putting all fears of rolling off the bench with an ungainly thud to one side. Thankfully, the chiropractor is a consummate professional and put me at ease straight away as I brought him up to speed with everything that had happened since I last saw him (the list was long and he was awfully patient). Then it was time to have the treatment. I pulled off my boots with an unladylike ‘Oof’ and popped (heaved) myself on to the bench.

On my front. On my back. On my side. Probably the most exercise I’ve had in a while. Turn neck this way and that. Leg up, arm down. Why do I always imagine those mice from ‘Bagpuss’ when I’m lying there? You know, the ones that sing ‘we will fix it, we will make it new, new, new?’ Marginally better than ‘The Flumps’ I guess.

I felt like a new woman after the treatment and mentally kicked myself for leaving it so long. My body felt unfurled, stronger. There’s not an awful lot that can be done to make living with MS easier, but having regular chiropractic sessions certainly helps. It’s like a great big sigh of relief running through my whole body.

Finally, I stood up and asked, ‘Lovely! Am I normal now?’

With good grace, the chiropractor declined to answer…

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Oct 07 2013
16 Comments
Media

Bad Taste Or A Fitting Legacy?

clark kentI’m not known for being ultra politically-correct but seeing this advert in a couple of the weekend newspaper magazines left me feeling ever so slightly uncomfortable.

My first thought was, ‘ew, yet another company using a dead celebrity to sell something.’ Always leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Did Christopher Reeve really agree to put his name to a car from beyond the grave? And if not, who’s cashing in?

My second thought was, ‘what do I think about Audi using an actor who spent the last nine years of his life as a quadriplegic (and therefore would have been highly unlikely to drive the car) in an advert with the strap-line ‘Power from a less obvious place’?

Is this an empowering but at the same time patronising and misguided statement that yes, even disabled people can be powerful despite what society may think?

Well, apparently I’m completely wrong. When I saw my boss and brandished the advert under is nose, he said, ‘ahhhh, Christopher Reeve, the best Clark Kent ever. Wicked ad.’ Seeing my blank expression, he slowly said, ‘D’uh, Superman? You know, the office geek who changes into a superhero?’ Ah. Well, that explains it then. I’m also not known for being clued up about Batman or Spiderman either.

So the point of the Audi advert is that their new car is not on-the-surface powerful, but really it’s more powerful than it looks. Right, got it. Just like Superman.

Christopher Reeve had a riding accident in 1995, leaving him paralysed from the neck down and needing a respirator to help him breath for the rest of his life. He became very active in campaigns supporting handicapped children and paraplegics, and founded the Christopher Reeve Paralysis Foundation in 1998 to promote research into spinal cord injuries. He died of a heart attack in 2004.

I’m still divided. My boss thinks it’s a brilliant legacy to a great actor. But to me, it boils down to being an advert for a car and Audi’s primary aim is to make money; they’re not using Christopher Reeve’s image for altruistic reasons. They’re simply hitching their wagon to a greater presence.

If I had a superpower, I’d choose invisibility. That way, I could be a fly on the wall in ad agencies so I could see just how they come up with these ideas…

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Oct 05 2013
45 Comments
Blogging

By Doing Nothing, I Am Doing Something…

Diana’s my guest blogger today. She writes a brilliant blog  – imtoofancy.com – about everything from Candy Crush to Breaking Bad. She has MS, and for Diana, it stands for ‘mucho special’. I’m pretty chuffed that we’re going to meet up next year when me and The Teenager go to New York…
Imtoofancy

I was diagnosed with RSRM Multiple Sclerosis on January 20, 2012. Since then I’ve been to five doctors and called two my own.

Every doctor I’ve seen has highly recommend I take medication. I briefly took Copaxone when I was newly diagnosed but after too many faux panic attacks, which are apparently normal, I decided I would rather handle my treatment organically. AKA no medicine, no side effects.

Of course I know that I should at least have a primary neurologist and so I continued on my quest to find a doctor I like. And then I did. She was affiliated with a hospital with a noted MS center. I’m not sure what I was expecting but I walked in knowing that I wasn’t going to be taking medication but hoping she’d still want me as her patient. Of course she agreed with every doctor before her – I should take medication. But I liked and trusted her so much that I promised her I’d that I would consider taking medicine if my MRI showed I had new lesions.

I was certain I wouldn’t have new lesions on account that I’ve been feeling pretty good. Diet and exercise, in addition to acupuncture and reducing stress have allowed me to live normally and with minimal interruption. Sure, sometimes I feel like it’s raining on my skin, my balance is lackluster at best and brain fog is a companion but it really isn’t that bad. I can and will survive.

But of course I was wrong about the lesions. My new MRI results showed three new enhanced lesions. During our follow up appointment in which I was supposed to pick the medication (I promised) I barter with the doctor. Again. And again she explains to me that just because I don’t feel symptoms doesn’t mean new lesions aren’t forming. As we speak, even.

My options are Gilenya and Tecfedera. I have to either fear heart attacks or JC virus. In fact, Tecfedera hasn’t even been on the market long enough for us to really know the side effects. What if I start growing fins? Or worse, I become the one patient who gets a brain infection. And trust me, I know it’s not that simple. I know that science is smarter than I am. But I also know that when you try to fix one thing in your body, there is a risk of another thing will get sick. Treat MS, say goodbye to your autoimmunity. Or say hello to thyroid issues. Or so many other issues.

I have yet to schedule an appointment to actually start any medicine. I’m too scared. Maybe it’s irrational but I can’t help but to think that with my luck, I will develop a new disorder that will require more medicine.

I suppose by doing nothing I am doing something. By not scheduling that followup appointment with my neurologist, I am making a choice not to take the medicine. I suppose I am taking risk either way. Thanks, MS. Thanks a lot.

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Oct 03 2013
12 Comments
The Teenager

Shops ‘n’ Strops

meanwhile in HollisterEarlier this week, I spent a frustrating couple of hours in the men’s changing room at Hollister.

There were fumbles, anguished cries and yelling. Yup, I was clothes shopping with The Teenager.

I had laid careful plans and bundled him into the car straight from school, turned on the central locking and hightailed it to town before he could escape.

He’s at that fussy stage (when isn’t he?) – his clothes have to fit just so, the colour has to be just right. Although how he could see anything in Hollister is beyond me. Maybe it’s my age, but it’s pretty darned gloomy in there. And there’s far too many über-handsome staff with chiseled jaws and their underwear on show. Tsk. After rummaging round in the dark and messing up all the lovely neat displays, The Teenager pulled out a couple of shirts to try on.

An hour later (and after profuse apologies to Mr Handsome for all the noise), he emerged from his cubicle and posed before the mirror, turning this way and that, arms flapping.

‘Oh, it’s a lovely colour! Suits your eyes. Let’s buy it.’ (looks at watch)

‘Nah, it’s, like, dunno.’

‘What about the other one? Or that one? Or the one you flung across the room?’

‘S’not dench, innit?’ (Dench? Huh?)

We left empty-handed and repeated the same scenario in the next store. And the next. Normally on trips like this, we have a little family tradition of rounding off the whole drama by taking it in turns to choose a restaurant for dinner. It was my turn. More eye-rolling and dramatic sighs when I told him I wanted to try a nice, eclectic place he hadn’t been to before.

‘Wanna go to Nando’s. Wanna go to Nando’s. Wanna go…..’

‘Oi, it’s my choice. You’ll like it. ‘

‘My friend said it was a girly place. Wanna go to…’

‘How can a restaurant be girly? It’s dench!’

‘Mum, that’s just tragic. Please don’t.’

We sat ourselves down in my choice of place, The Teenager grudgingly admitting it wasn’t that bad and he admired his new rugby socks (our only purchase), before tweeting his friends a picture of them. Then he facebooked a picture of his burger.

We had a lovely meal. Me, The Teenager and his phone. Dench…

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