In A&E – But Not For Me

Strange to be on the other side of the sick bed. My friend was visiting when he started having terrible stabbing and tingling pains over half his face, along with a pressure headache and a painful eye. Hmm, sounding slightly neurological, no?

After a bit of kerfuffle (‘I’m not sick, me man, we are strong’), I managed to drag/push him through the doors of our local A&E, marched him up to the desk and got him booked in. We got seen pretty quickly, a huge range of tests were carried out, he was prodded and poked and we speedily googled everything they told us. I had great fun pulling the ECG tabs from his chest and when the lunch trolley came round, we shared some corned beef and pickle sandwiches, chatted away and tried to stay calm.

Hospitals are funny places. All human life is here. In the opposite cubicles, a man was lying all on his own, the man next to him was having his arm put back into its socket and there was a tiny lady with whispy hair wandering around talking to everyone about her walking stick and a suit she should have been wearing (no, me neither).

I clearly remember being in the same assessment unit, just over a year ago. I was frightened and in a state of shock. I had booked myself in because I woke up and couldn’t speak properly – mixing up words, unable to find the right word, generally talking more rubbish than usual. All this kind of made me thankful that the whole diagnostic process was now behind me. After a year of tests, knock-backs, uncertainty and fear, yes, I have MS. But at least I know what I am dealing with.

Within a couple of hours, the doctor decided my friend wasn’t having a stroke or suffering from anything seriously neurological, it was an episode of trigeminal neuralgia. Painful but treatable. We collected his prescription and left. It was good to feel useful in an emergency and for it not always to be about me. He is now resting at home. I hope. Knowing him, he’ll be back at work. Oi, if you’re reading this, get back on that sofa and look after yourself – you never know when I might need your help again….

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Growing Old Disgracefully

I see a very special man at least every two weeks. We hug and kiss when we meet, tuck ourselves away in a secluded corner in a local restaurant and gossip. I feel sad when lunch is over and I wave him goodbye. What’s so unusual about this then? Well, Tom is about half a century older than me.

I signed up to Contact the Elderly six months ago. The idea is simple. Once a month a group of young people meet with a group of older people for a tea party. This bridging of generations is an attempt to reduce loneliness in older people. I was asked to pick up Tom as he lives just round the corner from me and we hit it off straight away. The first time I met him, he was hungover and tired but he had a wicked glint in his eye and soon had me in shocked stitches with his filthy jokes and indiscreet anecdotes of his years working at the BBC.

At the first tea party I went to with him, what struck me most was that the younger people seemed to be the ones benefiting as much as the older people, if not more so. Many of them had remained in the city after studying here and missed contact with their grandparents, or any older people. Likewise, the older people often lived far from their grandchildren and blossomed in the company of younger people. What we all discovered at the end of that first tea party was that the distinction between the ‘young’ people and the ‘older’ people was quickly blurred. We just happened to be a bunch of people who met up once a month.

We swapped recipes, knitting tips, lurid gossip, dirty jokes and put the world to rights. I got on so well with Tom that we now meet up outside of the group. I look forward to his company. He’s done it all before, seen it all. He puts life into perspective for me, which is badly needed right now.

Anyway, our Christmas party with all the groups in our area is in early December and I can’t wait. Why not have a look at the website? If you can spare two hours a month, I guarantee it’s one of the best things you can ever get involved with.

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I Have a new job…Almost

Woo hoo! I’m swinging my pants and hanging out the bunting. I have a new job, the job of my dreams, the job I would construct from fantasy and make real. Regular readers who can cast their minds back far enough will remember I went for a job interview at a company I really wanted to work for and I had everything crossed.

So why the glum face? Well, I had a phone call yesterday from the company that started with the words, ‘I’m afraid it’s bad news’. Never a good indication.  Luckily I was sitting in my car at the time and was able to rest (thump) my head on the steering wheel. The chirpy woman explained that the new  location I was due to be placed in at the beginning of January was now not going ahead, but there may be an opening for me a few months down the line in a different site. Apparently my job is secure, just not right now. Perhaps in the spring.

I now have a problem. My current job (with the Evil Bosses who sacked me for having MS) ends just before Christmas, after I negotiated two months grace. From then on, I will be unemployed.

But, never fear, my Super Friend has come to the rescue, yet again. He has very sweetly registered himself as an employer with the tax office, waded through mountains of paperwork and has offered me a job to tide me over until my new one starts. Phew! That was a close shave. Why, then am I ever so slightly apprehensive about starting work with him, during the cold, bleak, dark winter months?

Don’t laugh. He’s a builder and I will be his builder’s mate. Honestly. With my dodgy balance, weak left arm and tingly hands and feet, he’s still prepared to take me on, probably for the comedic factor, but hey, it’s a job. I have to start reading The Sun (skipping swiftly over Page 3) and work out the difference between an architect and an architrave. I will need to begin enjoying burgers bought from vans, strong tea and listening to commercial radio all day long.

On reflection, I am incredibly lucky. The alternative is too awful to contemplate. And maybe doing such physical work for a couple of months will a) tone me up and b) make me so, so grateful to get back into the warmth again in my proper new job. So, if anyone wants a kitchen fitted or an outside wall rebuilt, I’m your (wo)man…..

To read about my interview – click here.

To read more about Super Friend – click here.

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MS’s Little Joke

MS can make you heat intolerant. The slightest ray of sunshine can render you weak, trembling and vampire-like, seeking out dark, shady places. Now, I was slowly getting to grips with this. Until recently. It seems you can also be cold intolerant. MS, you crafty little joker, you.

The heat intolerance crept up on me, slowly dropping hints. I would feel unusually tired, unsteady on my feet and stressed when I was out in the sun. One day, though, it decided to clobber me over the head. I was sitting in the sun for about five minutes when a friend came rushing over, her face a picture of horror. ‘What the hell’s  happened to you?’ she yelled, dragging me out my chair. Huh? She was gesturing at my face and thrusting a little mirror into my hands.

I grabbed it and looked. In place of my normal face, there was a huge, throbbing bright red mess. My make up was sliding south, I looked like a hyped-up tomato and I suddenly wanted to lie down, then and there. From that moment on, any heat was a nightmare. It would leave me weak and sapped of energy and I had to carry little mini-fans at all times. I also invested in a huge fan for my house, which got me so hot and bothered putting it together that I had to lie down in front of it for an hour to recover.

So, when the cold season approached, I was ecstatic. At last, I could do normal things again. Go for long walks, sit at an outdoor cafe people-watching, do a bit of gardening. But that’s when the chills started. I began trembling with the cold, my teeth would chatter and I could barely function. How?? My central heating doesn’t know if it’s coming or going. I put it on to get rid of the bone-numbing cold, then whack it off again and open all the doors when it gets too hot. I checked with the MS nurse, and yup, it’s true – you can be heat and cold intolerant.

I’ve spent the last three hours huddled on the sofa, freezing cold to my very core, the heating up full. Now I’m getting too hot again. The heating’s going off and I’m going to find some gin to add to the ice cubes I found in the freezer…

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Working from Home (Alone)

So, I get sacked from work for having MS and negotiate a two-month notice period working from home  to get my finances in order and find a new job. In theory (forget the unfair dismissal and discrimination), it’s great. A bit of breathing space, a chance to get my head together and move on.

In reality, it’s hard. I miss the buzz of getting up and out the house, feeling like a valuable member of society. I miss my work wardrobe, even though it had shrunk to only black clothes in the last few months, reflecting the depression I was sinking into at work. And I miss packing a little lunch into my work bag. Hell, I even miss making coffee for the others in the office.

To shake things up a little, I decided to go to the local mega-supermarket to check out the end-of-aisle bargains. Exciting! I left the house early, pretending to be a commuter to work. Parked up, picked up a basket and started having a nosy around, ending up in the towel and shower curtain aisle by mistake. Seems the mega-superstore had been given a major refurb without consulting me and half the aisles were now diagonal, not straight. How to confuse an idiot, eh?

So I pick up some mushrooms, 2-for-1 pasta, a pack of reduced turkey mince and a value pack of toothbrushes – well worth leaving the house for. I get home, have a cup of coffee with the cat and sit down at my desk again. Right. Work like a demon for a couple of hours, check on Twitter, then it’s lunch. Sit down with the Loose Women. Then back to work. It’s a pretty lonely day. All my friends are in their proper jobs, the mummies in the cafes won’t talk to me (where can I borrow a baby from?) and the postman hasn’t time to stop for a chat.

I can’t wait to work with other people again. I will fling myself gratefully upon them, greeting them like long-lost friends. I will bring a box of donuts in every Friday. In the meantime though, it’s amazing what you can make from office supplies, isn’t it? To cheer myself up, I string paperclips together (festive), cut sticky smiley faces from post-it notes (funny) and make little monsters from mini-clips (strangely sad). I think it’s time I found myself a proper job…

 

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