Rage Against The Lesion

Lesions, eh?

Little white sinister blobs on our MRI’s, causing untold relapses and despair.

I had a spectacular first ‘proper’ relapse eight years ago and nothing – absolutely nothing – could prepare me for it.

A day trip; a long-planned stroll around shops, and a coffee with a dollop of cream on top with a generous slice of cake in Ye Olde Tea Shoppe afterwards.

The Teenager was away on a rare break, and even though I still had a packet of wet wipes and an emergency box of Lego-themed plasters in my handbag, I was … an adult … for the day.

Or so I thought.

It started on the way there. I couldn’t stop yawning and slumped in the passenger seat, answering my friend with a Danish accent.

We parked up, and I meandered the streets, weaving this way and that, feeling completely spaced out. I floated around with numb, unworking feet and arms, disconnected and, if I’m honest, beyond scared. I fell against walls and tripped over my feet.

I finally found the Ye Olde place we’d agreed to meet at and I sat down, terrified. Something was very, very wrong. The language difficulties increased, as did the sensation of not being of this planet (I know, not that unusual for me, but bear with).

Two days later, I was admitted to hospital with an (eventually diagnosed) unusual lesion on the speech part of my brain. I could have gone in earlier and stayed in for days, but The Teenager was due back within hours and that took complete  precedence over anything and everything. Within a year I had highly-active MS and treatment to match.

Fair play, The Teenager, even after all these years, still does a wicked Danish impression of me. I cannot begin to imagine the impression it left on him at such as young age.

So, lesions. Every day I wake up, I know exactly which ones will come forward and play up. Some are here to stay, the frayed cables permanently snapped – the foot drop, the balance. Some flare under fatigue – the language, the garbled speech, the cog fog. Sometimes they all get together and push me on to the sofa where I spend my days watching clouds drift past my window.

The one I hate the most is the sudden darkness and depression. It descends rapidly – I can be happy one moment and then in the pit of utter despair; I would rather speak with a Danish accent the rest of my life than go through it over and over and over again, a vindictive Groundhog Day I cannot escape from.

In short, it’s awful. It happened just two days ago. That sudden darkness. I’ve tried to learn to just relax in to it – I tell myself it will pass and I will be ok, but it’s so hard.

I know it’s MS and I know it’s a lesion. It’s just a blob asking for attention.

So I try to rage against the lesion. I know what’s happening. But it can take all my diminishing strength to see it pass back in to real life again.

But the bonus? I can still do a wicked Scandi-cop impression …

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6 thoughts on “Rage Against The Lesion

  1. Sally says:

    It is really shit! My walking and balance after 25 odd years is going downhill. It could be worse is all I can say to myself. A coffee makes me feel better and keeps me going. Friends and family who don’t judge just accept that I’m having a shit time, make all the difference. You are amazing, we all are. Keep on keeping on.. A coffee, some sun and a comfy sofa. It could be worse, it really could.

    • stumbling in flats says:

      Absolutely spot on. That’s the thing – it’s always about focusing on the good stuff, no matter what. So many things keep me afloat 🙂 Mind you, a little warning would be fab, so I could at least make a nice cup of coffee first and settle in for the ride 🙂 X

  2. Annie says:

    Aw so sorry that the darkness has descended … and there’s me wittering away on texts😳… it will pass as you know but it doesn’t feel like it when it’s happening, I get that. Feel better soon and fingers crossed the pesky lesion 👽 settles itself🙏🏼 Take care x

    • stumbling in flats says:

      Not at all! It didn’t last for too long, thank Goodness. I try to ride it out, now I realise it’s just some kind of flare up. But it’s awful being right in it. It must be harder if it goes on for longer, or if it is a more situational depression, so I guess I’m lucky 🙂 Gotta look on the bright side. X

  3. StargzrBlog says:

    “The one I hate the most is the sudden darkness and depression. It descends rapidly – I can be happy one moment and then in the pit of utter despair;” Holy crap, I have suddenly been having this exact thing happen to me, having never experienced such a thing before. The veil of darkness/despair is there for a few hours or a few days, and then inexplicably it is gone as quickly as it appeared. Hang in there!

    • stumbling in flats says:

      So sorry you’re having this too. It’s such a horrible thing, and quite frightening when it first starts.
      It’s so rapid, and takes me by surprise every time. Like the one a couple of days ago – I was absolutely fine all day (more than fine even) and then suddenly, I was barely able to move when this thick cloud appeared out of nowhere.
      The good thing is, the more we talk about it, the more we can support each other 🙂 X

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