It’s August. It’s “summer” so we’re told. It’s been an on and off one, weather wise, but, to be fair, this is England and that’s normal.
Last year I reported on my eldest child leaving home to go to Scotland, and now I have to report that he is no longer there, but living with his father, a couple of hours away from here.
My youngest is still living here, but, like me at her age, spends a lot of her time at the home of her boyfriend or stopping at mates houses, that kind of thing. She is currently in Bristol for a week with her chap, as his parents are away.
You may be aware of her, she has recently put up some lovely pictures on this very site. Bless her. I am so proud of her for doing this. Having done (and occasionally still doing) similar work, I know it’s pitfalls and what-have-you, so I am there for her should the going get tough. Some people have very strange ideas when it comes to displaying your flesh and what that might say about you.
Just let them dare say anything nasty about my daughter. They wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.
So, where am I at the moment? Health wise, that is. I mean, I’m sat on the sofa, natch. Once I get my seat free, that is.
Mobility is a bit restricted, at the moment. I have been on and off, like the weather, for a few months now. My legs are tired. So very tired. Walking is a bind. I am doing it but I am suffering. I do my best not to show it, obvs, because that is boring. I am really trying not to let it be a public battle. I have that sneaking feeling that I am failing at that, and it might be a losing battle, quite soon, anyways.
I know I have felt like this before, like I am at the brink of a physical collapse. Like this time tomorrow the legs just plain won’t work, and I have been wrong. So let’s cross everything that I am wrong again.
But, you know what, I have had a couple of times, of late, where I am already there. I have been blaming various things for my legs not doing as they are told: They’ve gone to sleep as I am sat for too long; the cat is sat on the bottom of my flared jeans or my dress; I have smoked too much dope… all those kind of things.
Truth be told, each of those (and similar) times, I have gone to get up and my legs have just not moved. I can get there… you have to concentrate really hard and take your time, but you get there in the end. Now, these instances seem like they take an age for me, where as they actually, probably, only take a minute or so.
Of course, the concentration on making ones legs move is interrupted by the concentration on trying not to blub like a gurl at the same time. Also, often, to think of something witty and erudite to say, to divert from the situation. One has to try, at the very least.
There have been so many times, this year, when I wanted to just get home and get on my computer and report something. But I have had too much work to do, to allow me the time to be so selfish.
Now, I like to have work to do. I had been so very, very bored. Then my husband got a contract to do some serious work and this made it so as he did not have time to write the filth we produce, to pay our bills. I took on that role and I am enjoying it, but it has made it so as I do not really have time to write here. I bet you are all quite glad of that, really.
Well, tough! Trying to recall, now, the things I wanted so very desperately to come on here and whinge about, I am having trouble remembering. Go figure. But I’ll do my best.
A month or so ago, we went to see The Wurzels. It was a sunny day and the gig was in the afternoon and there were a coupe of hundred people, maybe. I parked myself (and my rollator) right up front and settled in with a pint of cider and a ciggy.
There were people dancing to the music playing before the band came on. They were intoxicated in some form or another and really enjoying themselves. One chap, about my age, possibly older, was doing his drunken best to get other people up to dance.
He came over to me, took the brakes off my rollator and just wheeled me away and around the floor. It was innocent and friendly and he meant, and I took, no offence. However…
How very dare he!! Really – that is not acceptable, people! It’s not a wheelchair, but he thought it was. I imagine he thought he was giving me the dance I cannot have. Then he wheeled me back and left me alone. I knew the problem would come when I had the need to get up and dance all by myself. Other people would then see me as a fraud. They would wonder why I was sat in what is seen by most as a wheelchair when I can obviously get up and walk, let alone dance!
Oh, I’m sorry, we have been here before. It is such a worry, though.
What else? Oh, I have a brain fug at the moment. You ever feel like you have pins and needles inside your head? It sort of feels like it’s around my brain. Kind of under my scalp and skull. Just on the left, though. It’s weird.
I spoke to my GP, t’other day. I asked him what I should report, symptom wise. I used MS Hug as an example. he said “MS Hug? <laughs> That’s a new one on me!”
He told me not to bother reporting anything that is obviously MS related (as there is nothing that can be done), but if I get unexplained chest pain, I should do what everyone should do and go to A&E.
*Sigh* I should have used a different example, it’s just I was struggling with a hug at the time, so it was to the front of my fuggy mind.
Nothing, yet everything, is “obvoiusly MS related”. This is the reason I never take out insurance on financial products. They would always manage to make it fall back to my MS, an existing condition, so therefore nulling any claim (I know this, I worked in fnance most of my adult life).
You got run over in the street? Well, you were not moving quickly enough, because you have MS. An existing condition.
Maybe I am being a little harsh there, *about the insurance industry.
*I am not.
So… I am thinking that I might should go to a gym. Yeah, stop laughing. I mean it. I need to increase my upper body strength. If I am going to have to rely on my arms to move myself around, I need to tough-up.
I have never had much upper body strength. Remember the monkey bars when you were a kid? Yeah well, I could just hang there. There was never going to be any movement along the stupid horizontal ladder. I mean… why? WHY?
Having lost a little of what strength I did have (I think) I am now thinking that I should maybe prepare myself for wheelchair use. Oh, I know I use one very occasionally, now, but I detest being pushed, in the same way as I detest having Silver Service at a restaurant. I don’t take well to having servants. Having said that, I am pretty much unable to wheel myself unless I am on a nice, flat, low-friction surface. So, get fit or get pushed.
Where do I go, gym wise, though? I mean, I am not standard, am I? They’re gonna see a middle aged woman coming in the door and think “bums and tums”. But I need something else and I need someone/somewhere that understands MS fatigue, for example.
My MS physio is in a hospital that is an hour away and I do not have a problem, as such, so I doubt I could get to see him, even if I were prepared to make that trip at least once a week.
There is no MS Therapy Centre near me. I am looking at over an hour to access anything like that. I would need some time to recover after the journey. I would need many spoons!!
I am fast running out of energy, right now, as it goes.
I am sure this is a relief to all reading!! Also, my various electronic devices are bleeping at me that I have work to do… emails coming in, reminders of things I should have done already.
And there’s dinner to be made. We’re having sausages.
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