Ten Years Post Diagnosis: Reflections or Fuck. This. Shit.

Apocalypse, Be nice, Chilling on my goddamn superyacht., Death, Dissolving into liquid sky, Fatigue, Feminism, Happiness, I'd like to sit down please, It's not fair, Lemtrada, Life is hard, Medication, MS, Multiple Sclerosis, Vegetarianism, Women

Ten years, then. At diagnosis I was 27nearly28, so the mathematically inclined reader will naturally put two and two together (or add ten which, in this case, makes more sense) to find that I’m now 37nearly38. Rapidly approaching my three-score and ten. Or forty. Ridiculous.

Imagine, if you will, a school reunion scenario – and that Facebook* never existed so everyone doesn’t already know everyone else’s business anyway.

“Ema, hello, please fill me in on the details of your life since last we met.”

“Gladly. I have developed and continue to live with a chronic illness. Plus I would never go to such an event and have no interest in your stupid life.”

Such are the workings of a fully adult mind. Look ye on my sophisticated brain and despair!

Think of a way to link this paragraph to the last! Thanks. Finally gone vegetarian. Pescatarian. Few pesca, many vege. I’m Being Ecological. Read this book, by Timothy Morton. Had to reread each paragraph about three times to give myself a shot at vaguely understanding it. We’re being ecological just by living, breathing and occupying the same space as all the other human and nonhuman beings on this planet, man. Changed my life. Or viewpoint. Or at least something. Another book. Not a good one but one I found helpful. The Unexpected Joy of Being Sober by someone but I can’t remember who. Also mindset altering. Plus, obviously not sober, but drinking less which is better. ‘‘Tis all a work in progress. We must be kind to ourselves. Stop beating yourself up! You are not in Fight Club.

See, being close to a human constructed milestone (Being Forty), has triggered in me a fix-ur-life-up kind of thing. I think it’s about surrendering to the process. What’s the endgame? Where do you (I) want to get to? Ethically, health-wise, fitness and body-wise. Aiming for well-toned-vegan-ethical-nightmare. Although.

Literally, it’s a return to the earth, the dust, the air from whence we came. (Out, out brief candle!) Surrendering to the eventual and inevitable end: a goodbad idea.

We’re not here for long so remember to turn the lights off and don’t make too much mess.

In conclusion. Reflecting on the last ten years through my MS-tinted glasses. It’s a bit shit, really. A more detailed and boring reflection: the Lemtrada‘s working, last few MRIs show No Evidence of Disease Activity (NEDA), I’m mostly exhausted which is awful, I bore myself.

End with a joke. Thank your audience. Vacate the stage quickly. Lights out.

* scandal-hit

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Miscellany. 

Damn like or damn comment on my damn blog! Thank you., Fatigue, MS, Multiple Sclerosis, Summertime drinking

Yo. It’s Sunday morning, I’ve thrown open my window and can hear the contented twitterings of various garden birds, floating into my bedroom.* The smoky haze clouding the sky has started to be burnt away by an increasingly confident, dare I say cocky, sun. It promises to be a lovely day. That’s what the Met Office weather app says, anyway. Albeit less poetically, and with pictures.   

  
I’m sure, dearest reader, you’ve gathered that I have nothing of significance to impart to you on this fine day. Yep. True dat. So, instead, I might equip you with a list to be going along with. It seems to be the only right and proper thing to do. You onboard, so to speak? Okay. Deep breath. Here goes:

  • Every morning I’m taking a, not ridiculous, but, let’s say, silly number of pills. Regarde: MitoQ x 2 (no idea if they’re having any effect at all, or what exact effect they should be having); Gabapentin x 2 (to be repeated twice more throughout the day, if you’re an MSer it’s 3x900mg – for LOUSY NERVE SPASMS – these work, good); sertraline, for my MOOD; amantadine (for the FATIGUE – don’t appear to be doing cuss-all). I’m not quite rattling yet, but, you know. 
  • Item two on my list. Er. I’m still under the specific weather system a committee has voted, unanimously, to call FATIGUE. 
  • It’s not like I’m completely incapacitated though, before you rush over with magazines and lovingly prepared meals in little goddam Tupperware boxes. More inconvenienced. Thanks, though. 
  • Can I get away with not washing my hair this morning? Because that’s such a tedious life-force sucking activity. And I really can’t be bothered. It’ll be alright, right?
  • Final list item: this is the end of the list. 

Are you still here? Well, can you leave please? Go! I’ve got a day to attack. Or nudge. Clip, at least.  

 

*This isn’t a good sentence. Badly constructed. I mean the sounds, not the actual birds.  Okay?