I had plans. Lots of them.
As The Teenager was away in London with his dad, I had a whole list of things I would do.
I forget to factor in MS.
This morning I woke up at 7am. I stretched, inadvertently kicked the cat off the bed and felt smug that I had slept in. Until I realised the clocks had gone forward, and it was technically 6am. Gah.
I got up, made a coffee and consulted my list:
- Sort out all those thin clothes I will never have a hope of fitting in to.
- Sort charity bags.
- Hang pictures.
- Clean bathroom.
- Shred bank statements.
- Tidy up back yard.
But then, just as I was feeling human, MS took me by the shoulders and steered me to the sofa.
Erm, ok. So, if I just close my eyes for a few minutes, I’ll be fine again?
Three hours later I woke up. Three hours.
I am exhausted, MS fatigue is driving me crazy.
I am wading through cotton wool. I knew it would happen at some point … I just wasn’t ready.
So now the MS monster is back.
It’s shoving me in to walls, pushing me into corners and making me walk funny. Even talking is an effort.
I’m a wreck, but a wreck who has to keep on going.