Our little family has adjusted fairly well to life with multiple sclerosis, but now and again it throws up some major hurdles.
Even though my ex-husband and I are happily divorced and are bringing up The Teenager as well as we can despite the 140 mile distance between us, there are definitely times when it would be handy to have a partner around, or at least in the same city.
I’m booked in to hospital for my second round of Alemtuzumab treatment during the summer school holidays and it’s coming round far too quickly. The Teenager will be at his dad’s for a week as usual and with the way the dates have worked out this year, I will have just one full day to recover at home after three days in hospital before The Teenager is home again. I am panicking. Slightly.
Last year, the Alemtuzumab left me exhausted, weak and under the weather and I had several weeks sick leave from work but I also had three clear days on my own at home to start to recover.
I’m not so much worried about me, but about how The Teenager will feel seeing me lying on the sofa even more than usual. Is there anything more depressing than an ill parent? I tried to have a chat with him about it the other day and he’s promised me that if I buy him enough pizza, he’ll be fine, so here’s my plan to get through the first week or so:
- Accept all offers of help
- When he’s out with friends, have a sleep, so I’m fully(ish) awake when he’s back
- Encourage/bribe The Teenager to have friends for sleepovers
- Stock the fridge with lots of good-quality ready-meals
- Ignore the dust
- Keep explaining that the treatment will ultimately make me much better in the long-term
My friend’s daughter has offered to cat-and-house-sit again, so that’s one less thing to worry about. I’ll also organise a huge grocery delivery just before I go to hospital. I know what to expect this time round, so hopefully I’ll be better prepared than last year.
I was feeling very chuffed with my list and plans, then I checked my diary again. Yup, I’ll be turning 40 less than three weeks after the treatment. Now I really am panicking…
(no small violins were harmed during writing this blog post)