Look at me

I’ve got a cold so logically it’s time to start counting the bruises.

- One from when I overbalanced at my desk and cracked my hip on the printer.

- One from the sink when my legs went weak and I flailed out for the taps.

- One from the doorhandle which I failed to grab properly and instead hit it with my forearm.

- And one from the corner of the bed as I was falling gratefully into it.

Generally speaking when you have MS, sharp edges are your enemy – this danger is doubled when any sort of virus comes knocking.

It’s almost as if the MS gets massively jealous of this newly germed interloper and drags out previous symptoms (in my case balance) to remind you just who should have the attention.

It’s like a toddler screaming “look at me, look at me” until it cries and vomits Haribo on its party shoes.

Depending on my situation, I will either:

* compromise with the toddler (sit down, do very little, avoid walls)

* ignore the toddler (do some work, fall into things) 
or

* give in to the toddler (go to bed. Although apparently without avoiding the frame)

In the end though, like most tantrums, it’s just a case of waiting it out because unfortunately there is no naughty step for this particular scenario.

Although if there were, multiple sclerosis would be sitting there and reflecting on its behaviour FOR A VERY LONG TIME.

:: Look at me by Geri Halliwell