Valentine’s Day, just another chronically ill day
Oh, dear.
Here we go again.
Seriously.
Valentine’s Day.
Before we go on, what is your relationship status?
Taken?
Too early to tell?
Too complicated?
If so, how do you handle the overwhelming expectations of flowers, chocolate, itchy lingerie, fancy restaurant bookings, and the possibility of a ring at the bottom of your champagne glass?
Or, are you doing the more relaxed, chronically ill version of Valentine’s Day, and is your date called Netflix with dinner services provided by Romeo + Juliet, Love Never Lies, Love Is Blind, or Too Hot to Handle? Or is your being-single-version of hot underwear a sports bra because you don’t like gasping for air when your vital body parts are strapped into tight, itchy lace lingerie?
The taken ones… I get it. You’re in love and expecting a hot and steamy Valentine’s Day. Even when you’re healthy, it is a lot to live up to, and you may be so stressed out about it that you end up with tension headaches and an upset stomach.
Let’s say I’ve been there and done that.
About 18 years ago, life was good; I worked hard and spent lots of time travelling around Ireland and going to movie theatres to rinse my mind of relationship issues. But then I suddenly began experiencing the weirdest, most complex issue’s that made no sense at all. Sitting next to a cold window on a bus or a train caused piercing, stabbing eye, ear and facial pain. Sudden loud noises caused stabbing pain inside my eye and ear, and in a small spot behind my ear. I was so tired coming home from work, the staircase looked like Mount Doom and I was unable to climb 17 steps before climbing into bed, still dressed, with an empty stomach.
Six months later⁴ŕ, two diagnoses: trigeminal neuralgia and multiple sclerosis.
Add neuropathic pressure pain, vertigo, sound sensitivity and severe fatigue for approximately two decades. I have come to redefine Valentine’s Day as a day to love myself first. And sprinkled with a truckload of witty remarks and tons of sarcasm; otherwise, what’s the point of having a neurological illness so crazy it defies logic?
Ergo, XXL tracksuit sweater, leggings, and Ugg boots. The coif of the day, so to speak, because you’re not expecting a past beau to walk in and wipe you off your feet (you can do all that yourself with MS balance issues that hit you hugging the floor). So, any beaus out there? You should’ve put a ring on it when you could’ve.
Even Beyonce got so flustered she had to sing about it.
In short, my chronically ill version of V-Day began with reminding myself to enjoy this commercially induced day of love. And, of course, the single-since-forever version as well.
Shouldn’t every day be Valentine’s Day, anyway?
How am I going to spend the day? Mindful exercises in self-consciousness and giving my curiosity all the leeway it needs to enhance my knowledge about anything and everything.
That’s what you get from being the biggest book and documentary nerd on this side of the Atlantic.
Questions like, why did William Shakespeare write Romeo and Juliet? Who did he have in mind for both characters?
In fact, I visited the house where a Guiletta once lived in Verona, including a balcony and a statue of a Guiletta where touching her breasts was meant to invoke perfect love. Considering Shakespeare let her fool around with banned substances, I’d rather not have it invoke anything, but just for the sake of it, I did.
Let’s say it did F all to my love life.
But I am wandering here. V-Day means watching Romeo + Juliet and sobbing when Leonardo DiCaprio’s Romeo cries on top of poor Juliet, who went overboard with chemicals to pretend she was dead. It was so good that poor Romeo killed himself.
Leo’s version of Romeo is so good that even William Shakespeare would cry when he saw that scene, thinking, “I did well; I wrote that so well!”
While everyone is sitting in the restaurant, my Feb 14 celebrations will more than likely end early because MS fatigue and the daily grind of being chronically ill with a swathe of chronic neuropathic pain events don’t mix with late-night escapades anymore.
Hence, I go to bed early.
Alone.
The only male companion in bed is my Whippet Oisín, the love of my life.
In short, I don’t really care about Valentine’s Day because I’m a no-damsel-in-distress alpha woman who has other needs, like remembering to stick to my medicine schedule. It is hard, especially when I always feel like an A-to-Z-woman: Amazing and Zonked out on meds on the couch.
What’s more, the only thing you can find in a chocolate box is a raised BMI, so I don’t eat chocolate unless it’s Häagen-Dazs ice cream.
After previous posts about life with MS on Valentine’s Day, I can only regurgitate the following without adding all the positive affirmations, so hop over to those posts if you like.
Listen, a chronic illness and being single is kinda like losing the lottery twice, having just one wrong number. You can only do so much to return to your previous version of yourself. I’ve tried several times and failed miserably each time. It is, therefore, of the utmost importance to remind yourself that you are still you. MS, over time, will teach you so many lessons you will find yourself in awe of what you’ve achieved: you are still a dazzling, sizzling human who does not give up nor give in to extravagant follies for just one day. Forget about being single when you wanted everything but got little in return.
Having MS is no mean feat. It’s a daily exercise in balancing life, love, and building bridges with your future self because only you know how to tackle your chronic illness. Be kind to yourself, and never forget that you are still you.
Damn hot and extraordinarily strong, even when you don’t believe it yourself.
If you liked this post, why not read these posts:
Revisiting ‘3443 Needles,’ Ireland Best Blog Post Award winner, 2018
MS, a riddle wrapped up inside an enigma
MS: the lies we tell ourselves
Other top posts on Ireland, Multiple Sclerosis & Me
#Bloggies18 #EDHbestblogs #MultipleSclerosis #MS #LifeWithMS #MSLiving
© Willeke Van Eeckhoutte and Ireland, Multiple Sclerosis & Me, 2011-2024.
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One Comment
Linda Vee
Late stage MS here. It’s not getting better anymore just progressively worse. Married over 50 years. Husband just called to tell me Happy Valentine’s Day and that there was a gift for me in the frig. I rolled over to the frig to find a large green cabbage. (Yes, a cabbage) I called him back and he was laughing and laughing. He told me after all these years a cabbage given in love was better than a dozen roses given as a chore. He was right. I’ll be smiling the rest of the day.