You know that whispered word, beginning with an ‘R’ and ending in ‘elapse’?
Well, I’m not sure if it’s a flare up or the dreaded ‘R’-word. Whatever it is, it’s awful.
It started over a week ago with the usual brutal, gatecrash-entry that MS specialises in.
A sudden, total collapse in energy, not seen since 2011. Garbled speech, crazy balance and a sense of being utterly spaced out; so much so that I have now nicknamed myself The Space Cadet.
Just to make things even more interesting, I’m having weird jolts of vertigo. Not continuous (I can just about cope with that), but sudden, horrible shifts in my vision, like a camera-shutter adjusting itself rapidly (younger readers, you may have to google this).
And if that wasn’t bad enough, I’m now feeling nauseous every evening.
Oh, and one more thing. The bizarre crying. I cry at everything. A piece of music, a random comment, the cat running up my curtains. And baked beans.
That was the final straw. Who on earth cries when they make baked beans on toast?
The Teenager had requested this particular meal choice when I was writing the shopping list for the week, a monumental task. So, great. Easy, fairly healthy, quick.
On the fateful evening, I assembled everything and served it up. I looked at the plate and burst into tears. The beans just looked so … sad. So vulnerable and innocent and somehow, a little bit lonely, even though they were surrounded by other beans. It was then that I realised I needed professional help.
So I called the MS team this morning and left a rambling message. I had a call back soon after and blurted out my tales of woe, capping it off at the end with, ‘and apart from that, I’m fine!’.
The Teenager is away in London this weekend, so maybe I will have some time to gather myself together before I go back to hospital with my Baked Bean Saga. How embarrassing. Kittens, babies, parcels tied up with string I can understand, but baked beans? I have a feeling I’ll never live this one down.
Baked beans live a hard life at birth they sprout then are hung on a vine then torn apart and baked. Sometimes they mingle with bangers and times left alone on toast … Its a good reason to feel sorry for them !!!!
You do not need professional help, you just needed to cry let the flood gates open, release the stress then put on a smile after you dry your tears !!!!
Gah!! You’re making me feel worse!!!
I’ve cried buckets. Even today when I took my mum to IKEA to buy tea-lights. The scents were so lovely.And the discount section, well, I can’t even begin to explain …
I’ve been exactly the same, not quite crying over baked beans yet but had a full blown meltdown on Sunday because my daughter told me I play devil’s advocate too much. I mean, I’m not even sure what she means but it warranted the full works of tears and snot. This was after a massive fatigue episode the previous day and blurry vision so I guess it’s all connected. Have thought I was going slightly mad though. I feel your pain. Bloody MS!!
So glad it’s not just me!!!
I would swear, but I wouldn’t know when to stop, meh.
You ended up saying …..”I’m fine” to the MS Team!………Hmmmmm.
Okay……my personal interpretation of FINE IS:- F (expletive), I (Indecisive), N(neurotic), E(everything-else)….Oh!, this can be tweaked to each individual’s experience of MS,
P.s. For goodness sake….They’re only BAKED BEANS!
My point exactly!!! They’re only baked beans and I don’t even eat the darned things, can’t stand them.
And I reckon F.I.N.E sums me up pretty well 😉 Although I always thought the ‘I’ stood for ‘insecure’?
Yep! I guess I was grappling with my memory when I typed that reply
( I and all that. ) anyway, E forEVERYTHING ELSE sounds OK to me!
Everything Else most definitely sums up life with weird and wonderful MS 🙂