Five words guaranteed to raise the blood pressure of us ‘invisible’ MSers, ‘but you look so well’ is normally accompanied by a sharply raised eyebrow and a sceptical look. Obviously I’ve been making the whole sorry saga up and have accepted help and sympathy under false pretenses.
The meaning behind these words is stark. You said you were ill, but you’re clearly not. Go away, you attention-seeking drama queen.
I get asked to explain my symptoms. Dodgy balance, extreme fatigue, wonky hands, difficulty walking in a straight line, falling over. They nod then say, ‘well, at least it’s not cancer, eh, bet you’re glad it’s nothing more serious?’ Would it be ok to beat them about the head with my walking stick? It’s got to be useful for something. There is an illness hierarchy and MS languishes somewhere near the bottom.
Sure, on the surface I do look fine, and since being diagnosed with MS, it’s important to me to still look my best. Adapting to the role of a ‘sick person’ has been a difficult transition and one I am still going through. Yet, for society to regard you as an ill person or a person with a disability, you need to conform to their expectations, otherwise you can just whistle for support.
I should stop washing, start wearing baggy-kneed leggings bought in bulk from Primark, rub chip-fat into my hair and under no circumstances dare to put even the merest hint of make-up on. I must give up work, apply to go on the Jeremy Kyle show and start hanging out in Poundland, spending my benefits on cheap junk food.
A well-meaning friend joked that MS fatigue is a pretty cushy symptom. You get to doss around on the sofa all day, doing nothing more taxing than changing the telly channel. What they don’t see is the fear, the anxiety and the utter terror of an uncertain future. MS is sneaky. It’s symptoms can strike at any time and there’s no set pattern. You can be chatting away in Starbucks, feeling quite normal, enjoying your latte when suddenly the cup drops from your hand. Or you can be walking along the street when your foot just drops from under you. Socially, MS is dire. It steals your confidence.
So if you see a person with MS looking well, just think of the effort they’ve made despite everything. And don’t mention the Poundland carrier bag full of Frey Bentos pies and Bacon Bite crisps…
This is so true, I’m sick of people telling me how well I look! They don’t see the amount of concentration it takes to do simple everyday stuff!
Hi Jenny!
Definitely. I also get, ‘but you said you were ill’…. Drives me up the wall!!
x
I was told, ages ago, by a friend that his family were discussing me and ms and a friend of mine who has cancer.
They were deciding which disease they would want, if they had to have one.
“we decided on cancer! You stand a chance of a cure with cancer, but you’re never gonna get better, just worse.
This made me quite mad 2 years ago .
Im now not bothered . I hope they are fortunate enough to experience neither.
No cure, always hope.
Hi Duncan,
I know what you mean. Cancer seems to be more ‘socially acceptable’ and people are far more willing to rally round to help. Plus, like you say, it’s often curable, whereas MS (at the moment) is more likely to be a downward progression. Hey ho, us MSers have to stand up for ourselves!
x
I go for the “Father Jack” approach and swear a lot, also shaking your walking stick is socially acceptable 🙂
Hi Tony!
I LOVE that. Maybe I could rock the batty old woman look??
x
I’ve had people say to me “at least it wasn’t a brain tumour…” The only reply I could think of was something along the lines of none of us knowing what’s round the corner ie “you could get knocked over by a bus tomorrow!!!”
Hi Jenny!
It’s amazing what people say, isn’t it? I’ve had, ‘at least it’s not motor neurone disease’. I really don’t think people diagnosed with breast cancer get told they’re lucky it’s not bowel cancer, eh?? It’s a crazy world out there.
x