… in my case, 82.
But it’s been a long week.
Anyway, I know I’m old as:
- The Teenager has come home and told me – with great urgency – to listen to the uber-ancient song by Alanis Morisette; ‘Ironic’.
- The Teenager has introduced me to Oasis. Again.
- My knees are playing up and I grab on to things to hoist myself out of my seat.
- Me and the cat listen to ‘Tweet of the Day’ on Radio 4 and discuss it afterwards.
- I fill my trolley with tuna cans for one and a solitary bread roll.
This has to stop.
In my mind, I am around 25-ish. (Note that I had The Teenager when I was 25-ish) Yet MS can do it’s darndest to make you feel, well, old. Ish. The creaking joints, the nodding off after the news, the brain fog, the unsteady walk.
How to counteract such MS deviousness?
I suggest a reclaiming of everything that makes us MSers feel old:
- Tell everyone you meet you have MS. Works wonders. They will say, ‘by golly, I would never have known – you seem so, well … normal?’ (long argument)
- Explain to the very handsome barista in your local coffee place that you may need some help carrying your tray of latte and chocolate brownie to your chosen seat, as you have MS. Shit happens?
- Practise your ‘I know, I know, I don’t look old enough to have a debilitating, degenerative neurological illness. Blame my genes, lol.’
Most of us are diagnosed at an unseemly age. It’s plain wrong. We don’t feel ‘disabled’, merely ignored by society. I went from being valued, respected and well-regarded in my job until a diagnosis of MS made me into ‘a problem’. This has to stop.
If we can harness this outrage, we will go a long way.
We don’t ask for much – a little understanding, a little compassion. We are a talented bunch, who just so happen to have an illness which actually makes most of us more determined than ever to overcome the ‘disabled’ label.
What do you think?