Tag Archives: adjustment

The Worst Friend Ever?

friendsI am a bad friend.

I’ve been so busy adjusting to a new life with MS that I’ve completely forgotten my friends are also adjusting to having a friend with MS.

Now the dust has settled, I’ve crawled out from my hermit-like existence and surveyed the Friendship Damage. It’s not a pretty sight.

True, some of my friends have stuck by me through thick and thin, put up with my self-pitying monologues and wiped my tears. Others have disappeared, perhaps fed up with feeling they have to preface every conversation with, ‘I know it’s nothing like what you’re going through, but…..’

I rarely go out in the evenings, and if I plan to, I more often than not have to cancel – it’s impossible to know from one day to the next how high or low my energy levels will be. So I end up even lonelier, even angrier with myself, my world shriveled into a husk of its former self.

To make myself feel better, I stockpile books and trashy magazines, record TV programmes I really don’t need to watch (Big Brother?), cook comforting foods and hug the cat even tighter. Not the best recipe for getting back into polite society, it’s a damning vicious circle. So how can I rectify this situation?

Perhaps launch a Paris-type ‘salon’ – where I host scintillating evenings chez moi whilst I recline on my sofa, introducing my dwindling band of friends to each other? Start a book club? Chez moi? Or put out a ‘yoo hoo! I’ve got energy, who fancies going out?’ call whenever I can muster the strength to apply eye make-up without looking like Alice Cooper?

This is not how I envisaged my life at 40. My world should be opening up not shutting down.

So this is an apology to all those friends I have neglected and who have left.  I know there’s nothing I can say or do to bring you back into my life, but we had fun while it lasted? To the friends who are (thank goodness) still in my life, this is a Thank You. Your support has seen me through the very worst of times. The best of times are yet to come…

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I’m Well Adjusted…

I've Got Your BackMy chiropractor called me the other day and said, ‘oi, your boss has just been in for an appointment and told me you don’t want to book in as you think you’re too fat. Don’t be daft, come in!’

‘Can’t. Too fat. Could break your bench, honestly. Potentially very, very embarrassing.’

I’ve been visiting the chiropractor for over 12 years now. He magically sorted out my neck problems, brought on by exiting a car through the roof at high speed (not classy, pretty painful) and he’s also treated The Teenager since he was a toddler.

That Fateful Day two years ago when I woke up unable to speak or walk properly, he was the first person I called. After talking gibberish, he summoned me to his clinic, ran through some neurological tests and quietly told me to go straight to hospital. He was the first to put MS on the table and helped keep me sane through the long, anxiety-ridden diagnostic process.

Anyway, I went to the clinic, putting all fears of rolling off the bench with an ungainly thud to one side. Thankfully, the chiropractor is a consummate professional and put me at ease straight away as I brought him up to speed with everything that had happened since I last saw him (the list was long and he was awfully patient). Then it was time to have the treatment. I pulled off my boots with an unladylike ‘Oof’ and popped (heaved) myself on to the bench.

On my front. On my back. On my side. Probably the most exercise I’ve had in a while. Turn neck this way and that. Leg up, arm down. Why do I always imagine those mice from ‘Bagpuss’ when I’m lying there? You know, the ones that sing ‘we will fix it, we will make it new, new, new?’ Marginally better than ‘The Flumps’ I guess.

I felt like a new woman after the treatment and mentally kicked myself for leaving it so long. My body felt unfurled, stronger. There’s not an awful lot that can be done to make living with MS easier, but having regular chiropractic sessions certainly helps. It’s like a great big sigh of relief running through my whole body.

Finally, I stood up and asked, ‘Lovely! Am I normal now?’

With good grace, the chiropractor declined to answer…

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