Sleep: a time-consuming commodity
Shoulders back, head held high. Striving to soldier on, wanting to do more. Body says ‘no’, mind perhaps too. This morning I ran into my leading enemy. Not the one I declared war to over some silly misunderstanding when I was 8, nor the one who swore she would never talk to me again when I was 15, but one much closer to my heart. Me. Sometimes people say you have to confront in order to conquer. But what if this is a person, namely, yourself? I’ve had many confrontations with myself, but I’ve never been a good listener. If/when given the choice, I’d rather kick up some more dirt than having to listen to the rules. Especially when it comes to having to rest. And sleep.
Unfair
Once again I am here. A small, busy waiting room in hospital. People waiting, wondering, dreading, hoping. How much longer will I need to be here? When will it be the last time I can walk in here with a neurological illness and when will I be able to walk out with that nagging, progressing disease eradicated from my central nervous system? It is not fair. Nobody deserves to be here. Nobody is ever prepared to hear what the stranger in front of them will have to say. A neurologist looks at your test results, gazing, thinking. Do they wonder how they will tell you that from this minute onwards, your life as you once knew it, is now over? Unfair is the way it was thrown at me, at…
Beware of the thief!
In between trying to set up a new laptop today and resting enough before another batch of daily tasks comes my way, I came across an email about MS and the question what MS has stolen from us. In her blog post, Nicole Lemelle says “Multiple Sclerosis robs us of our outside roles and independence. Which most times amounts to our identities”. So where do I begin? Do I even want to answer this? Will it lead to feelings I thought half forgotten?
Dissecting words
“Billie… smile!” “Billie, this is a business company, not the beach!” “Oh Bee, you’re such a bad dancer!” “It must be great being on sick leave so much; it’s like being on a long holiday!” “Look at her, Monday morning and still drunk!” These sentences might just be background noise to some, but to a person with a neurological illness, those words can cut like tiny slithers of glass.
Shortlisted!
After a holiday which wasn’t really a holiday – flying home because a family member passed away is hardly reason to have that excited holiday feeling – and trying to sleep while having half an eye fixed on the Ireland Blog Awards 2013 website every so many hours for the last week or so, I am now still trying to figure out how I got to being shortlisted in the Personal Blog category. Chuffed. Exhilarated. Stunned. In the past I expressed my surprise about that peculiar kind of twist of fate which later turns out to be a blessing in disguise, and yet again I have to admit that life really is a stage show. A show of which I continuously seem to misplace the brochure but manage to grasp…
Hot town!
“There’s always the floor?” my mum asked. With a brain fried like a piece of KFC garbage, thinking intelligently seemed hard to do. “Of course there is always a floor, go figure!” But I was getting desperate, water streaming from me and no place to cool down. Aside from the floor, that is.
Single life?
"However, I am not MS and MS is not me. It may reside inside my brain but that is where the relationship ends. I accept it is there, but it will not make me long for a relationship just to be in a relationship, or to have someone present to care for me day in, day out. Quite independent, indeed."