Black cat

I had an 18-month review with my neurologist recently. As a result of which, I am oscillating (what a great word) between two emotions.

The appointment went well – hurrah.

The appointment went well – immediately superstitious.

I did all the little tests pretty well:

• Strength, good.
• Getting up off the floor without using your hands, ungainly, but good.
• The one where they poke you with a sharp thing to see if you can feel it, good. (This has not been good for nine years. I have no idea why feeling has suddenly returned, but it has.)
• Balance and eyesight – not so good, but you can't have everything.

My neurologist declared it was the most well he'd ever seen me. And I've been seeing him for six out of my 14 diagnosed years.

I should be cartwheeling around the room, but the problem is that the last time he said I was doing pretty well, three weeks later I was in hospital with an almighty relapse.

I'm fully aware that there's not an evil link between what he says and what my immune system decides to do, but I'm more than a little superstitious about this.

Funny isn't it? We spend so much time battling bad news and dealing with the utter guff that MS throws us, that we should be utterly delighted when the news is positive.

And I am. I'm extremely grateful. I'm also quite scared.

I'm not completely sure why I have reacted with such trepidation. Was the news too good? Perhaps a part of me thinks that having a bad review will somehow keep other, much worse times, at bay. Perhaps I dare not believe it because if I do, I'll let my guard down and get walloped by the relapse stick again. 

The rational part of me knows this is all utter superstition. I'll either relapse or I won't.
But I've always been a bit of a one for touching wood or waving at magpies or looking for signs from the universe and I wonder if living with something so completely out of my control has made this tendency worse.

What this appointment has made me realise is that I'm finding it almost impossible to appreciate the happy medical news without thinking about what happened the last time I did.

However, I could well be worrying about how to deal with the good news for nothing. Just because the external signs aren't there, doesn't mean the internal progression isn't happening. So it's off for a head and spine MRI next week. Those stark grey images will be the real test.

In the meantime, I guess it's just carry on as normal. But perhaps I'll try and get as many black cats to walk across my path as possible.

Maybe that was the subconscious reason we rescued two black cats for re-homing. 

Does it work like that?

:: Black cat by Janet Jackson