Dec 12 2012
2 Comments
Emotions

Think Like a Comedian…

I was reading a column in a magazine about how to bring more laughter into your life. After the year I’ve had with MS, I could do with all the help I can get. Apparently, a top tip is to think like a comedian. If you’re standing in a queue or sitting on a bus, see the funny side and notice quirky things. Hmm. Well, ok, I could give that a try.

I went out to pick up my repeat prescription. As I was de-icing the car, a man zipped past in his electric wheelchair with a small dog on a lead. Semi-humorous as the dog couldn’t quite keep up the pace. In the chemist, I queued up behind a man with a hacking cough and a little old lady carrying two massive shopping bags asking about what she could take for diarrhoea. By the counter, there was a whole rack of information leaflets about bowel cancer, breast cancer, giving up smoking and the flu jab. Not so funny.

Next, I went to the supermarket for some coffee and yoghurts. I scanned the aisles and found nothing remotely funny except for some oddly-shaped carrots and a dodgy looking aubergine. At the check out, the woman who served me was telling me they’d already caught one shoplifter that day and it was only 9.30am. They had stolen an Ardenne pâté Christmas gift pack and a bottle of red wine. Classy shoplifter! My first witty observation. I was pleased.

Feeling buoyed up by this, I went for a coffee. A quick Americano with an extra shot. Had a furtive look round. Nope, nothing funny except a few toddlers trying to crayon the floor. In the charity shop next door, the only funny thing I could find was a nodding-head reindeer, but even that was a bit wonky so I didn’t buy it.

Comedy moments seemed to be a bit thin on the ground, so I headed back home. In the post, a few bills, a pizza leaflet and a Scout post Christmas card from someone I vaguely know. I picked up the article again and looked through the other tips. Maybe I should take up their suggestion of ‘thinking outside the box’. This involves forgoing your favourite restaurant on your next ‘date night’ for a night in a casino instead. Random! Only problem is, I’d have to find a boyfriend first, and at my age, that’s no laughing matter…

Tagged ,
Dec 11 2012
2 Comments
My Ramblings

If I Had to Write a Round Robin Letter….

Don’t you just dread these landing on your doormat at Christmas? A smug, boasting, hearty letter detailing every single thing that some random person you met years ago did over the last 12 months? Well, in the jolly spirit of Christmas, here’s one I would have sent, if I could have been bothered (abridged version):

Well hello there stranger!

What can I say, it’s been an awesome year for our little family. I have some sad news though. Our highly-talented mouse-catcher, Mr Snuffles passed away in January. We held a very moving and well-attended ceremony and he is now resting under the bush in the garden. The candle-lit vigil was just beautiful (picture attached!). To ease our grief, we adopted a new, gorgeous little tabby who has adjusted so well into our loving home!

The Teenager is doing brilliantly at school! We just don’t know how he manages to combine all that schoolwork with playing for both the rugby and football teams too! Phew! And where do kids get their appetites from?? He’s growing up so fast and I just can’t take enough photographs of all his incredible achievements. We’re running out of space for his trophies, and we just know  he’ll be playing rugby for the country soon – watch this space!

I have had a little health problem. It’s MS. You know, that celebrity illness – Jack Osbourne has it and we’re so proud of the spotlight he has shone on this for us. We’re in the company of giants! I’ve been resting up and taking it easy, but watch out world, when I’m back to my old self again – here I come!! I may just take up skydiving and firewalking, so watch out for the clips on YouTube. I’ll be famous! So keep this letter in a safe place, ha ha!

We also painted the bathroom this summer. Don’t Farrow & Ball do some stunning colours? We spent many a happy weekend choosing the best one and are so pleased with the result. I have had so many lovely compliments. And our toilet brush matches perfectly! As well as that, I am also still baking my legendary brownies and carrot cake – people just can’t get enough!

Well, I’ll wrap it up now. So, so sad we haven’t managed to meet up this year. Or last year. I’m just so blessed you can share in our awesome lives.

Merry Christmas y’all (My funny American relatives say this and I just think it’s the sweetest thing!!!)

XXXX

Tagged , , ,
Dec 10 2012
2 Comments
Daily Life

Having the house to myself…

I love The Teenager to pieces, but I also love the weekends he is away. Does that make me a bad parent?

He comes back from school on the Friday and stays for a while before being picked up. It’s a strange half hour. I know I’m going to miss him, but ‘freedom’ is just around the corner. When he leaves, there is an unusual silence in the house and I have a whole weekend to savour it. The PS3 isn’t droning in the background, the laundry pile disappears, The Teenager isn’t shouting match updates to me every ten minutes and I can sit back and relax. This parent is strictly off-duty.

Being a single parent with MS is hard. I can’t sign out for a few hours or a day. I need to be present and in control at all times, but MS doesn’t make allowances and I struggle sometimes. The days I am fatigued are the worst.  There are times I almost resent not being able to go to bed early or having to schlep out a couple of times a week to pick him up from rugby or football training. So during the weekends he is away, I can let the mask slip. I don’t have to pretend everything is alright.

I can also do exactly as I please. I can catch up with The Real Housewives, America’s Next Top Model and Come Dine With Me. Guilty, trashy pleasure. I can sit and eat ice cream right out of the tub without having to share. I can have an evening out with friends and do proper grown-up things. Or I can just potter around the house, flitting from one thing to the next without having one eye on the clock.

I think it’s just having bit of time to catch up with myself, take stock and charge the batteries up. Yet much as I enjoy the time off, I’m like a kid at Christmas when he comes back on the Sunday. Everything in the house feels….right again. Except for the laundry pile, the toothpaste round the sink and the disappearing food…

p.s. a very clever lady on Shift-MS suggested ‘Reading Between The Wines’ as a name for our new book club – sheer genius!

Tagged , , ,
Dec 09 2012
Leave a comment
Emotions

Who Cares?

I went to an interesting and well-organised conference last week which focused on services for carers of people with MS. A whole range of organisations were represented and I went along as I trained as an MS Society support volunteer. I am passionate about newly-diagnosed people and their families having access to services and groups and my role is to signpost them and provide a friendly ear, as someone who has been through the system.

We all met for registration, coffee, croissants and a catch up then went through to the conference. There were some brilliant talks and insights and so far, so good. Then something happened which had me in bits. A very young teenager took to the stage to explain what it was like to be a young carer for her mum, who has MS.

Halfway through speaking, the girl was overwhelmed with emotion and began to cry. The entire room was hushed and stunned. Although she seemed to be supported by some charities, it was clear this was a girl in danger of a nervous breakdown. She went to school after helping her mum and worried the whole day about whether she had fallen or was in need of help. She had been bullied at school too, which research shows happens to almost 70% of young carers. There are 175,000 young carers in the UK, with 13,000 of them caring for over 50 hours a week.

Like most newly-diagnosed people, I was horrified at the thought of my son becoming my carer, and touch wood, I am lucky. I don’t need to ask him for help and although he is aware a I have good days and bad days, I get along with support from my family and friends. With the  Alemtuzumab treatment I had, I will probably not need ‘care’ for the foreseeable future, if at all.

The girl’s dignity and courage was astounding and I hope hearing her plight will spur others to find her more help. Four days on from the conference, she remains in my mind. I feel churlish complaining about my tiredness or weak arms.

If anyone knows a young carer, please reach out. They need care too.

Tagged , , , ,
Dec 08 2012
17 Comments
Symptoms and Treatment

MRI…Meh

I had a neurology appointment yesterday, to check how I’m getting on since the Alemtuzumab treatment I had in the summer. I always arrive early at hospital to have a wander round the shops in the main concourse and chill with a (revolting) coffee and a spot of people-watching.

I bought some bits and pieces from Boots, including a horrendously overpriced Jamie Oliver sandwich then wandered over to the gift /clothing shop. Who goes to hospital and buys cruise-wear? Or a new handbag?  I decided against buying a new sparkly, spangly scarf and went to W H Smiths and looked at the expensive books and bizarre range of food, including tins of baked beans (always makes me smile).

Anyway, I had some coffee with my mum and watched the clock tick round before heading off to the clinic. The appointment went well, although I had to go through those neurological tests again – you know, the ones similar to the tests American cops make you do when they stop you for drink-driving. Touch your nose with your finger and walk in a straight line heel-to-toe. Luckily, I am normal – and not drunk – and didn’t fall over or make a fool of myself.

However, the bad news is that I will need to have another MRI scan next year. If I had to choose between an hour-long  lumbar puncture and an MRI, I would choose a lumbar puncture any day. I absolutely loathe small spaces. I am claustrophobic beyond all reason. When I was a kid, my sister locked me in a wardrobe, went for lunch and forgot all about me. Pot-holing as a hobby fills me with horror.

I have had two MRIs and have no idea how I got through them. You’re given earplugs, fitted with a guard to keep your head still and told you can keep your eyes open and look in the mirror set above you. Er, not a chance. My eyes were squeezed shut the entire time. You go in head first and it is terrifying. The magnets whizz round making a racket and it’s freezing cold. Each time, I could feel blind panic rising and each time I chucked my  mind to a happy place, anywhere rather than in that Tube of Terror.

So I have seven months to prepare. I will do my yogic breathing exercises, employ visualisation techniques and pretend I am lying on a very cold, hard beach. Any tips from fellow MSers?

Tagged , , , , , ,
← Older posts
Newer posts →