There are few things that annoy me in this world, the word ‘disease’ being one of them, many doctors and health advisors described my mums MS as a disease. Like a pest that she contracted from a Rat or Vulture, what they don’t understand is that my mother would grow to live with MS, it would become a part of her, her daily schedule a part of who she is. I didn’t like the suggestion that my hero would become a disease, like it would get so bad that she would lose herself amongst an illness! I knew my mother every day of my life and she was not one to be taken over or dominated by someone or something. She has her ways of doing things and she would learn how to adapt, and after everything she would own the MS.
Another being, pity, I was young but, I knew well that there was always going to be someone worse off, someone suffering from poverty or famine; I despised people’s pity. Pity felt cold , I knew they meant well, all of them, desperately trying to sympathise with me and my ‘situation’. – I’m not ungrateful – I am grateful, but at that moment in time I couldn’t have felt more different in the world. I felt as though, I should stroll around with ‘ I’m a young carer’ embellished on my forehead.
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Months dragged on, steering closer to the day every child was ecstatic for : Christmas. We were managing, doctors prescribed, tested and evaluated the medication my mum was receiving, she regularly attended appointments at hospitals, the sickly sterile smell became familiar and the cold embrace of the Hospital gown, loosely wrapped around her body; was her only reassurance when the MRI machine consumed her. She was stable … We thought she was stable anyway, maybe I thought that it would all get better, like tonsillitis or the flu. In a way it did, it became the norm, our daily lives moulded around it to fit tightly, like a plaster cast on a broken arm, we were close.
My brothers coped better than me, they seemed so strong and boyish, whereas I realised they were as torn as I was, they just dealt with it differently. Alex being only twenty two months older and Tom six years older than myself, it baffled me.
I was naive, thinking that the MS would never change. That Christmas as we tried to celebrate, my mum ebbed and rolled in pain upstairs ; she was relapsing, meaning it was getting worse. We ended up phoning a paramedic and they delivered her a drug: morphine, more doctors and MRI’s, injections and more MS. We took dose after dose of bad luck, convinced one day someone would say ‘right there’s your lot, now get on with it.’ …
Right that’s all. I do love a good cliffhanger. I would just like to thank you all for the amazing support you have all given me. Please feel free to leave a comment, like or share. Have a lovely day!
All my love,
The Odd Pigeon xx