I'm thinking this blog post should come with a warming lable.
WARNING: WATCHING OR LISTENING TO IMBEDDED VIDEO OR READING THE PROCEEDING BLOGGERY MAY CAUSE BLUE MOODS, UNCONTROLLABLE BINGES, HYSTERIA AND OTHER UNACCEPTABLE SOCIAL BEHAVIORS. READ AT OWN RISK.
That said maybe I should rename this post to BUBBIE. THE DARK SIDE
I've been humming this tune all morning, so I found it on UTUBE so you can share in Mr.Cohen's genious for the divinely depressing.
I don't usually write like this. It's uncomfortable. It makes me squirm. It's too revealing. My kids read this. I don't like to sound like I'm whining, moaning or otherwise being what I consider distasteful and annoying. This is the World Wide Web we're on...what am I thinking?
But hey! This is cheaper than seeing a shrink, so here goes:
An able bodied, well meaning friend of mine introduced me to a woman she knows who also has MS. The woman contacted me and was very nice. She wanted to pick me up and take me with her to a local support group meeting today. I had originally agreed. She drives, with hand controls and gets around in her motorized scooter. I was impressed. She has secondary progressive MS, told me she doesn't have pain, just lack of mobility.
I chickened out. Yup. I called her this morning and told her (no lie) that I had a miserable headache and needed to stay home and medicate. So, I didn't lie, I did feel like a monumental piece of fecal matter this morning. I don't feel that much better now. But, honestly, that was just sooo convenient.
I went once last year to a different local "support"meeting. One of the drug reps spoke, along with a local neuro and a salesman for handicap aides. He had a dizzying array of expensive lift aides, safety bars, scooters, bathtub safety items and more. It was catered with Chick-Fil-A and snacks...nothing for a veggie eater but a few carrot sticks. The drug rep threw out gaudy over sized t-shirts to the ones in the group that answered her little quiz questions relating to her little presentation. (Positive reinforcement for actually staying awake) I watched as members of the group reminded me of those overzealous children in 4th grade as they raised and waved their hands to be noticed for the teacher to call on them for the correct answer. A couple of the "regulars" noticed me as a newby and engaged me in conversation about our doctors and treatments and how long we've had MS. A sweet older woman (gotta watch who I call old now...I think I'm there) was in a red scooter with a little wicker basket attached to the handlebars. The basket was decorated with bright silk flowers next to the prominent shiny chrome horn who's rubber ball she would squeeze to make that ooga ogga noise as she passed threw the crowd on her way to the parking lot.
Lets say I wasted no time leaving. Once in the car and out on the road I fought a strong urge to stop at a pub. I made it home and vowed not to do that again.
Why you ask? Maybe it's me, maybe I'm more non compliant than most, but that was freaking depressing! I don't want to be a member of THAT club!
Please accept my most sincere and humble apologies if I've offended any readers at any level of disability. It is not my intention. My intention is to maybe help someone else along with myself work through and identify with this feeling. Depression can spiral from this vantage point.
I don't want to be a member of this club.
I see the abled...the people I worked with and for prior to MS and friends that work other jobs. They are busy with their workweek and projects now, and who's weekends are filled with the stuff of home life and housework.
The disabled...for myself: At home I manage to keep food in the house and prepare a few meals,take care of the dog and birds.The most numerous weekly events include doctors appointments, labs, pharmacies, grocery stores and frequent naps. I attempt to keep the house from being condemned by the Board of Health. I just can't bring myself to make those once a month meetings an event to add to my boring calender and actually look forward to it.
What I saw was people identifying with their disease, the same way my identity used to be heavily defined by my profession. What I also saw were people my age and older who all needed the medical accessories the salesman was hawking, and have all been or are still on the accepted MS therapy medical protocols. Now that's depressing.
My sincere apologies again, if you weren't already depressed and reading this sent you there.
It's a sort of Limbo Land or maybe a self ensnared Purgatory I feel I'm in.
Am I waiting to feel better and resume my old life? I'm not that naive.
Am I waiting for some miraculous medicine to cure this disease, close the book on this chapter and burn the book? NO.
But still I feel like I'm waiting.....