Trump card #1

My wife and I went to see Depeche Mode in Manchester the other night.

I don’t normally do stadium gigs, and it’s been a while, but they were excellent. Even though we were near the back of the auditorium and it wasn’t loud enough (I like the music to thump through me and rattle my rib cage). Depeche Mode are second only to 1989-era The Cure when I saw them at the NEC.

Anyway, my wife got to play the MS trump card.

During a Martin Gore ballad, she went to the bar to get us both a drink. On the way back carrying two pints, she was shouted at by a bloke with a gang of his mates:

“Alright, love? Are you thirsty?”

“Actually one’s for my husband.”

“The lazy bastard! He sent you to the bar?”

“Yeah, well, he’s got multiple sclerosis so he’d only spill them everywhere.”

The trump card played, my wife watched as his shoulders slumped and his mates rolled their eyes and shook their heads.

“Take no notice of him, he’s an idiot. Can we help you at all?”

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Birthday hangover

It was my birthday at the weekend and now I’m hungover.

I must have had a good time… Hmmmm… Yes, I guess I did…

Saturday started by taking my eldest to her dance class and back. I started my pottery tuition in the afternoon and on Saturday evening, I ventured into Sheffield to see Reverend and the Makers play a storming hometown gig.

Sunday was my actual birthday, so I managed a little bit of a lie-in before bombardment by breakfast-in-bed wielding daughters. This was followed by a long trip to the supermarket. Then, picking up their Grandad en route, we visited one of the local parks’ play areas where we had a go on the resident miniature train.

This was followed by a slap-up meal in a local eaterie, including an ice-cream dessert with a candle on top before a round-trip to show the girls Matlock illuminations.

Monday involved a day off work to do some much needed gardening, followed by helping my daughters decorate my birthday cake. By the evening, I was dropping off in my chair, so I had a brisk walk around the block to blow some life into me.

So, yes, a very enjoyable birthday… and now, even though I didn’t drink a drop of alcohol, I have a hangover. A hangover caused by dragging a monster round with me all weekend. My head feels fuzzy, my hands and arms are buzzing, my legs feel like lead. I can’t stop yawning after midday and I know I am going to struggle to keep awake after the girls’ bed-times tonight.
I often hear people of “a certain age” claiming that “you’re only as old as you feel,” before twirling their umbrellas and tappity-tapping out a dance routine. If that’s the case, I guess I have just reached 98, not 38.

STOP-PRESS: as I was typing this I recieved a phonecall from my local Occupational Therapist to say that I had been referred to her fatigue clinic. My first appointment is next week. The OT sounded very dour, like the last thing she wanted to do was see me, so I will keep you posted.

Alcohol

It has been amended since, but I once laughed at a section in the MS Society publication “What is MS?” which described potential problems when drinking alcohol.*

The problems highlighted included balance, bladder control, slurred speech and double-vision.

“So how do I know when I’m getting drunk then?” I thought.

Last week I had a few pints of lager at a wedding reception. I see two objects when my eyes look left anyway, but I found it difficult to straighten my vision out coming back to centre.

I guess this contributed to my drunken state, because it made everything swim earlier than it was meant to. A most unpleasant sensation and one that made me feel a bit maudlin for a while.

The boundary between sober and drunk is now very (‘scuse the pun..) blurred.

* The publication has since been amended to say that MS symptoms can become more acute when drunk.