The art of balancing multiple sclerosis and life… sort of!

“Oh no.

Aw!

Urgh…”

Things around me slowed down as if time itself was suspended into nothing but… well… a whole lot of nothingness.

How on earth did it happen this time?

“Oh, you. Again. Oisín, untangle your legs from my legs!”

There I was, with time back into fast forward motion, on its way to eternal bliss, AKA the freezer + Ben & Jerrys ice cream.

It is bliss that right now, however, excludes my right knee, wrist, elbow, hip, and bum as they all hurt.

You can add a bruised ego to match the physical entities as well because I swore not to fall again. Ergo, bruised is bruised.

Lying on the floor in the living room, half a meter removed from my coffee table, I wonder if I should make calendar entries should I keep kissing the damn floor and forget when I hurt what.

Thank God I didn’t spill any Starbucks vanilla coffee on the coffee table though. The furniture I could live with, spilling coffee, not that much.

Starbucks coffee, now that would have been worse, much worse as the pup loves my coffee as much as I do, and it is the only thing I refuse to share with him.

But sure, there I was.

Again.

Puppy-induced fall number 4 or 5.

IKEA-rug-induced fall number whatever.

At least the pup’s consistent, you must give him that. With a name like Oisín Darragh D’Arcy, I wouldn’t expect any less.

In a radical twist, my MS-side, my left, now has the fortune being paired with an Oisín-side on my right. It’s rather like: “MS, meet Oisin.”

It’s inexplicably funny despite the wretched pain.

Really.

It is.

On a more deliberately serious note, the reason for falling this time was rushing and tripping to catch the news on TV on rising COVID-19 numbers. It’s been me against myself lately as I keep my nose stuck in the affairs of those who continue to spread the not so novel coronavirus by refusing to vaccinate. So, I just stumble and nag to the TV about still having to avoid the unvaccinated and otherwise ignoramus.

Oisín in the meantime, looks at me like only puppies can. Either he sees me as an odd, MS-fatigued and pained two-legged Whippet mama, or as a modern Amelia Earhart whose flying skills need to be updated. Is it any wonder so I unconsciously opt flying solo onto the floor to save physical energy?

What has been on my mind a lot the past year has been the knowledge that plenty of people still refuse to accept reality, despite facts, figures and death notices that come in hard, and fast. I live in the hope that more gutsy actions and people will eventually be able to bridge the truth and adapt their behaviour to make sure we all have a chance to live. If we ever needed a Christopher Hitchens in these days of powerful yet criminally and morally corrupt actors, it is right now.

“We are all drowning in filth. When I talk to anyone or read the writings of anyone who has any axe to grind, I feel that intellectual honesty and balanced judgment have simply disappeared from the face of the earth. Everyone’s thought is forensic, everyone is simply putting a “case” with deliberate suppression of his opponent’s point of view, and what is more, with complete insensitiveness to any sufferings except those of himself and his friends.”
Christopher Hitchens)

In the meantime, I found other ways of ending up on the floor in a rather hilarious way, even if I say so myself. Last week, and at 2.45AM, his lordship needed a wee in the back garden. While he was digging up dirt, I was standing half asleep in the kitchen with my back against the kitchen counter while wearing fluffy socks, eagerly waiting for the kettle to boil hot water to make some coffee.

The fluffy socks acted like Alpine skis, and I simply glided down on the floor, as in, you know, slithering like a snake down a bare surface, or like you see idiots do in comedies. For some reason, it made me think of Charlie Chaplin.

I kid you not.

Slapstick galore.

Similarly, Jerry Lewis would also be proud of it.

I always wanted to do slapstick, so bucket item #6 scrapped of the list.

Further on the MS front, life with trigeminal neuralgia remains a force to be reckoned with. In fact, it seems to have stepped up a notch and I keep seeing new triggers that prior to now, were not there.

As if that were not enough, last week, one -yep, just one- sudden, very sharp stab of pain hit the bottom of my heel while walking. Think sharp trigeminal pain, only on the other end of my body.

Murphy must’ve had me in mind when he devised his Law.

As a result, I have been unable to walk the past eight days as any pressure on my foot leads to more pain, so I am hopping around the house since. I refuse going to A&E because of the rise in COVID numbers so I’m immobile much to Oisín’s discontent as walkies are scrapped for the time being.

But life goes on. It has to. Considering the enormity of the state of affairs in Ukraine, what the hell am I complaining about, anyway?

So, new, anti-slip rugs are now in place, and I am beginning to see some light shining gleefully at the end of this batch of heavily sedated yet eerily obnoxious symptoms.

Oisín has taken notice of the pain in my foot and he now guards said foot by holding it tight at night. The wee man doesn’t know which body part to protect first when I’m asleep, so he just sleeps under the duvet and against my body.

I only wished I had three more legs like he has so I don’t have to inspect the floor so closely when one of my legs feel like it.

So, I hope you will bear with me this year when MS, Oisín, Covid-19 and other events shape my life. Let’s hope it will be less blistered, pained and more colourful, joyful, and lively instead.

Learn about falling and multiple sclerosis:

Falls in multiple sclerosis, Cleveland Clinic

Balance problems, MS Ireland

Why do some people with MS fall?, National MS Society

Falls in people with MS, International Journal of MS Care

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