Tag Archives: guilt. The Teenager

Guilty? Oh, Yes.

guiltAfter a truly horrendous couple of years with MS and then the wonder of Alemtuzumab treatment, I am at a curious place.

I’m over the moon that my MS has stabilised; the enduring symptoms remain but are manageable, mostly.

Relapses are now few and far between – horrifying when they happen, catapulting me back to the bad old days, but they pass.

Before I went to Austria on holiday, my mum was worrying herself silly that I wouldn’t be able to cope with MS and all its symptoms so far from home. Luckily, with a bit of forward-planning and plenty of adjustments, I pulled it off.

I was having a chat with her today, and I remembered saying to my neurologist in January that always, always, at the dark place in my mind was my dad’s MS and could, would, the same thing happen to me at some point?

Of course, I know it probably won’t, but the mind is a strange thing. I feel incredibly guilty that my MS has been made a whole lot easier than my dad’s ever was. And not only that, also that I’m faring better than a lot of people who have MS today.

I’ve tried to re-form this thought. Ok, my MS is under control. So, what can I do with this reprieve? Should I do everything I possibly can, everything I ever wanted to do? How long is the window of opportunity? MS has shaken me down, given me a resounding slap across the face and pushed me into places I’ve never been before.

Me? Public speaking? Well, yes, even with my weird Scottish-Americano accent – I’ve talked at MS newly-diagnosed days, to executives of Genzyme (the manufacturers of Alemtuzumab) and forever on film for World MS Day, chubby face and all.

Me? Take a Master’s? Yup. I even passed the first year and am looking forward to the second.  And mulling over my tutor’s suggestion about taking a PhD *faint*.

Me? Take on unscrupulous employers and win? Yes, and then some.

My biggest fear hasn’t been realised – I’m still here to cater for The Teenager’s every whim. We’ve got through the exams, the future plans and the prom (a very, very long and traumatic story – not me, him).

I’m still here, I’m doing ok, but I can’t shake the guilt.

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