Buy Two Get One Free

Hello dear readers!

Firstly a quick word of apology to those who were expecting their weekly helping of

Word salad last Sunday. So, um, yeah… Sorry.

The reasons for this aberration will become apparent in just a little while. In fact if you follow me on social media, specifically the vaunted book of faces. Then you might have a small inkling as to the subject of this weeks blog post.

It’s quite a biggy, and really the only thing that I could possibly write about today. It is the fact that earlier this week I found out I have MS.

Wow, that is still quite a difficult sentence to type.

Short Work

As those who follow this blog may recall, I’ve not been feeling one hundred percent, or anything close, for a while now. For those that haven't the faintest scooby what I’m talking about you can refer to my last post. The symptoms mentioned in that post have continued since we last spoke and, especially on the visual side of things, have escalated. This got to he point of, having survived a frankly scary drive into work I lasted approximately three hours before effectively being sent home.

That’s not to say that I went home of course. Feeling that, being a tad unsure exactly how many of what were exactly how far away; driving would be particularly unwise, especially for my fellow road users, pedestrians, and perhaps the odd building, I therefore called upon the tender mercies of my sainted parents.

They immediately dropped everything and came to pick me up and take me to Dewsbury District Hospital A&E where I’d already arranged to meet up with my non-driving wife, Tina. Nine hours, a blood test, and a CAT scan later and I was admitted as an impatient  in- patient,with a suspected Chiari Malformation (which I do actually have) being suspect number one. the next day I was moved to Pinderfields Hospital which has, I was told, a much better Neurology department.

Bad News

It was Wednesday of last week that I received the news from a calm, authoritarian Scotsman by the name of Doctor (Mr? Professor?) Hutchinson. I had undergone the strange and not a little unnerving experience of an MRI scan on the Monday, and had spent the last two days on tenterhooks (reminder to self; look up what tenterhooks actually are). When the good physician of indeterminable title waylaid us on our way back from nipping away from my hospital bed,and ushered both myself and Tina into a side room for a little ‘privacy’ I immediately feared the worst. I wasn’t far off.

My diagnosis was MS. Multiple Sclerosis. A disease or disability that is, at the time of writing, incurable. It can be degenerative and symptoms can vary wildly from case to case. There are management techniques and therapies. Some cases are relatively mild, some not so much. It is not a death sentence but it could mean that life becomes just a little limited in some ways.

So, not the greatest of diagnoses as you can possibly imagine. For some strange reason my mind flew away from emotional responses. There was and, to date, has not been, any ‘why me’s, and no fist shaking at the heavens in unexpected but highly cinematic rain storms. Instead two thoughts immediately consumed me. Practical matters that would quite possibly have the greatest immediate impact upon my life. The first one: would I regain the ability to drive? The second, interlinked thought then being: Would I be able (or want to) continue to work?

The Road Most Travelled

As a man who was born with Spina Bifida I am, to an extent, used to having limits thrust upon me. I long ago made peace with my inability to do certain things, and that other tasks would be just that little bit more difficult due to my circumstances. Mobility is, as you can possibly imagine, of paramount importance for me. It drives (if you’ll pardon the pun) my independence. It allows me to go where I want, when I want, as easily as I want. The potential subservience to bus and train timetable then is not something that I look forward to. I know this might not seem like a huge thing but personally it really, really is. And it knocks on to that second thought.

I’ve possibly struggled with work for longer than I readily admit. I am, at heart, a contrariwise, stubborn, and overly-independent person. Someone who does not happily admit to failure or inability, but the facts do kind of speak for themselves. Since my role at an international stockbrokers was made redundant I’ve fallen into three not dissimilar roles, all financial services linked, all customer services based (it’s what my C.V says) and I’ve not managed to pass my probation period in two of these. Now I know I’m putting the cart before the horse (something I’ve continually warned people of) but IF push should come to shove and these troubles continue that will lead to a rather large decision. The fact that transport could be compromised (it’s over a ten mile journey to work) of course has to be a factor in this, as does acquiring the great enabler we call money.

High Steaks
As I say though, these are large, life altering decisions, and four days after diagnosis is not the time to make them. I need the strange moments of emotion to subside (what on earth is emotional about the Justice League trailer?). I need to gain some distance and some clarity in all of this, I need to discover a little more about my condition without scaring myself silly (MS, M.S, or M.S.? Pretty sure at least one is a lady of undetermined marital status) and I need, apparently, to spend some time in wild hedonistic excess (Thank you Fazenda, Jack Daniels,  and Alchemist!). It almost feels like some kind of grieving process.

But hey, this is quickly running the risk of becoming a gloomy read (Too late?) and although dark clouds are gathering there are the odd chinks of silver lining shining through. I’ve (re)discovered just how valuable both an unsurpassably wonderful family, parents, sisters, and of course my incredibly strong, amazingly emotional, and unfailing supportive wife, Tina, along with unique, unparalleled and seemingly bottomless friendships are, and that I’m lucky enough to have both in spades... or whatever other suit you care to mention. I’ve also come to the conclusion that at the stately age of forty-two (forty-three in eighteen days!! I’m not hinting or anything) it might be time to start taking a few risks in life.

The Outer Limits

I have a life limiting condition to go along my other life limiting conditions. My Spina Bifida has been with me since the start. My Pernicious Anaemia for less time. Multiple Sclerosis may be a new and unexpected diagnosis but it just adds to these pre-existing conditions and could, in all actuality, have been riding alongside them for a while, dodging behind one or the other to keep out of sight. It’s a three for two deal, but it really doesn’t matter. If my life is to be limited then I think now is the right time to start living right up to those limits. It is time to start taking a few small risks in life and to pay a little more attention to the things that make me happiest. Bucket lists meed to be ticked off, ambitions need to be realised (book?), and time needs to be spent pursuing things I’ve perhaps not had the guts to go for before. I’m not talking about such lunacies as sky-diving here (although…), but there is a tattoo that looks kind of tempting…

I will, of course, be sure to let you know.

Until next time...