The sun blind in the garden.
Grinding metall and flying sparks
An underground passage in Solothurn, Switzerland
The sun blind in the garden.
Grinding metall and flying sparks
An underground passage in Solothurn, Switzerland
The are appearing in the store again, in all colours.
So you fall down, I mean everyone has a fall now and again, but not everyone cannot stand up again and has to call a taxi somewhere to the wilds, in the middle of farm land where horses are living in their stables.
Because as you are poised with camera in the hand for your prize winning photo you slip on the sloping ground, grasp the fence in between as you are going down, realise the fence is under electric current, that gives you the rest. A taxi is called, you are in the hospital ER and various questions are asked. In the meanwhile your lunch is reminding you that it is not quite fully digested, but after 1-2 hours they let you go and you hobble home to bed.
This was the week-end, when no-one is available for further help, but you eventually get to your doctor the next week and she sends you to the hospital for an x-ray to make sure no bones were broken on the way. The doc has a feeling that something is wrong somewhere and you get an appointment with the neurologist. The next step from the neurologist is one of those x-ray tunnels for the body with lots of noise for special x-rays. The neurologist wants more, and decides your head must also be examined with more noise, how insulting, my head was always attached to my shouders. And then you eventually visit the special department of a hospital a train ride away for more examinations, including a so-called lumber puncture. I get a hole in my back for brain liquid – I have liquid in my brain?
Suddenly various letters from various laboratories in Switzerland arruve where my samples were sent. I am famous, my body photos are now hanging somewhere in Basel, Zürich and Bern. Eventually I get a result of all these examinations, although I was already there before the doc decided to tell me that I had MS. I was 69 years old at the time, so who cares. MS is not something you get at the age of 69 and it had been hanging around for at least 30-40 years, but no-one realised it, not even me. It was not crass, nothing to make a fuss of, just a bit of giddiness now and again and the inability to become an olympic star in running, jumping or even walking. I was gradually becoming the best choice for the Ministry of Funny Walks.
Perhaps not quite, but on the way.
And so I was now inaugurated into the members of the Multiple Sclerosis group. I belonged somewhere, was no longer just a silly walk, there was a purpose in my life and I even got a walking stick. Of course not just any walking stick, I mean if you have to have one than make sure it looks good. Anyhow can walk around with a stick so let’s do it properly.
I have two. The brown plain uninteresting one is for wobbling around at home on my unsteady days, but the colourful one, the one with the jungle pattern, that is my stick for outside walks. The one where everyone goes “aah” and “oh” when the see me passing by. The little silver label on the top is my name, it is an individual stick. My neurologist (who has almost become a family friend in the meanwhile) asked me last week if it was an exclusive model. Did I see a little jealous flicker in his eye.
In the meanwhile I am even on the needle.
Every second day I give myself an injection: nothing with diabetic pens, no the real thing. A hyperdermic accessory, driven into the body in a vertical direction, but not anywhere. It tends to now and again leave a mark, so it is advisable to distribute the marks. Every time somewhere else. Here again it has to be organised “now where did I inject the last time?” so I programme it all into my iPhone with a signal to remind me when and where the time arrives again.
Am I a paragon – not really, I did not get a choice, but this MS thing is not going to rule my life. I have other things to do like ironing, window cleaning, washing, cooking. In my spare time I go for a walk with the camera (MS says not longer than half an hour, but sometimes I tell MS “get stuffed” and take a rest on a bench, meaning I might disappear for an hour or more. MS does not really tell me what to do so much, I tell it what I want to do. I get fatigued now and again, but don’t we all. Of course my feet no longer are attached to my legs so well, expecially the left one but I am one of the lucky ones probably, that I still manage with just one stick, not two or a wheelchair. My fingers still manage a computer keyboard. They are perhaps no longer as sensitive as they were, but at the age of 70 many things are no longer as sensitive as they were. I can write, I can blog, and upload photos – what more do I need.
I also have an assistant in the shape of Mr. Swiss who is also a golden oldie. Everyone told me to drive a car again, and so I am. Driving a car was never really a speciality of mine, but that is not so much the MS talking as my ability to do it.
Enough for now, we all have our crosses to bear. Mine is not so much a cross, but an annoyance – so get down MS I want to take a walk this evening – behave.
My climbing rose must be confused. She appears annually, but this year had to fight her way through scaffolding. However even “A Tree Grows in Brooklyn” the novel by Betty Smith, so a rose can even make its way surrounded by metal. Luckily its life as a rose lasts only until Autumn when a new threat appears when they decided to paint the white wall where it is climbing. It will apparently be painted a very light green – oh how I hate green. I wore green for six years every day at school as uniform and that did it for me. It is not even my colour, I am more into blues and violets.
Otherwise it should be a quiet day today. No builders in sight because we have one of those catholic holidays in our Kanton of Solothurn. Today is corpus christi and it seems to be something special. Switzerland has two main religions Swiss Reform church and Roman catholic depending where you live. I live in a catholic area, so we get all their holidays. If I was living in Zürich or Bern I would have to go to work. This can get complicated if your husband works in Bern and you work in Solothurn where I live and this was our case. However, there are always advantages. Working as an export clerk our office had a so-called skeleton staff on the catholic holidays and I would always volunteer on that day. Mr. Swiss did not have a holiday, so I could take my day with him at another time. There was never very much to do on that day in the office: mainly handling telephone calls from other countries and dealing with problems that might crop up.
What am I doing today? Not very much, although life in a household does not really have holidays and as a golden oldie I am permanently on holiday so they say.
I am a little later this morning, but just have just written a note on my Facebook page complaing about the fact that Facebook are constantly writing on my postings that for only 3 Swiss francs I can boost my post to reach at least 1,200 people who will probably shower me with likes. I am not in it for the praise or the likes, I just do a crossposting of my entries in WordPress. This whole blogging thing is a fun thing for me, not to gather praise or likes, but just to do it. This scheme of Facebook is not exactly a scam, but not genuine. There is an office somewhere in the far east where workers sit in front of a computer and are paid to click likes on my postings, not even have to read them. OK, they have a job, earn a few pence or cents for each like and I get 1,200 likes to boost my confidence. I wonder how many people fall for this. Even after completing my post it appears with a little blue box with words telling me to “boost this post”.
Yesterday I manage to fall off my office chair all on my own, Mr. Swiss was giving water to the garden at the time. The silly chair has wheels and they just rolled away as I was about to sit on the chair. Falling is not so bad, I sort of bounce and do not have any serious injuries, just a mark on my arm and a little bit of back ache, but not life threatening. The big problem is getting into a horizontal position again. Mr. Swiss arrived, but I was already in the process of sliding over to the settee across the floor. With my last strength I managed to hoist myself onto the seat, and the rest was a piece of cake. I was standing in no time: as I said like a bouncing ball. Just learned something new, be careful when sitting on chairs with wheels, they might move in the wrong direction.
I am now sitting safely on a chair in the kitchen, just finished breakfast and now time to move on. Writing letters to Facebook, which they will never read in any case, used up too much time, but my ego now has a boost.
And now I will leave you for a while from the depths of Switzerland. Have fun and be kind to your computers everywhere. And now a nice picture of my rose without scaffolding in between, just a raw brick wall in the background.
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