The weird eccentric ramblings of a multiple sclerosis sufferer

Ah, medical marijuana—the green leafed miracle that’s somehow both a blessing and a punchline. Let’s dive into this delightful plant that’s been making waves since it was legalized in the UK in 2018. Because, you know, nothing says “we care about your health” quite like a prescription for a plant that’s been around since the dawn of time. The Pharmaceutical Rollercoaster

First off, let’s talk about the pharmaceutical drugs I’ve tried. You know, those little pills that promise to fix everything but instead turn you into a walking side effect machine? I’ve had more adverse reactions than a cat at a dog show. Horrific side effects? Check. Worsening conditions? Double check. It’s like a twisted game of “how much worse can it get?” Spoiler alert: it can get pretty bad. So, after a series of unfortunate events that would make even Lemony Snicket cringe, I decided to ditch the pills that were clearly plotting against me. Enter Medical Marijuana

Now, let’s get to the good stuff—medical marijuana. This isn’t just any old weed; this is the fancy THC oil that’s supposed to be the answer to my prayers. And guess what? It actually helps! Who would’ve thought that a plant could do what a pharmacy full of pills couldn’t? It’s like finding out that the secret to happiness was hiding in your garden all along. The Benefits of THC

So, what’s the deal with THC? Well, it’s the part of the cannabis plant that gets you a bit high, but don’t worry—I’m not permanently floating in a cloud of bliss. Instead, I’m just a bit more relaxed, which is a nice change from the usual tension that comes with living in a body that seems to have declared war on itself. The spasms? Fewer. The pain? More manageable. It’s like having a personal bodyguard that doesn’t mind if you’re still stuck in your wheelchair.

And let’s not forget the added bonus of not having to deal with the nasty side effects that come with traditional medications. No more feeling like a zombie or dealing with the delightful surprise of new health issues popping up like unwanted guests at a party. Just me, my THC oil, and a slightly less miserable existence. A Bit of British Humor

Now, I know what you’re thinking: “Isn’t it a bit cheeky to rely on a plant for relief?” Well, in a world where pharmaceuticals can turn you into a human guinea pig, I’d say it’s a bloody genius move. It’s like choosing to sip a nice cup of tea instead of downing a pint of something that tastes like regret.

So, here’s to medical marijuana—the green leafed plant that’s not just a punchline but a genuine source of relief. It’s not a miracle cure, but it’s certainly a step in the right direction. And if it means I can manage my pain without feeling like I’ve been hit by a bus, then I’ll take it. Cheers to that! looking out for a cheap 2hand q100 wheelchair sick@mylivinghell.co.uk

          “The views in this post are based on my personal  
          experience. I do not intend harm, only honesty.”

“Many years ago, I was sitting in my wheelchair, minding my own business, when some prat decided to stare at me as though I were some sort of sideshow attraction. I wasn’t in the mood to feed the animals, so I ignored him. But, of course, he carried on, relentless as ever. So, I finally decided to turn my manual wheelchair to face him—no small feat, mind you, as it required the sort of effort usually reserved for a gym session. Anyway, long story short, I eventually upgraded to an electric wheelchair—supposedly the height of luxury. But let’s be honest: it was absolute rubbish. It ended up in wheelchair heaven, alongside all the other overpriced tin cans I’ve wasted money on over the years. They brag about a 20-mile range—utter nonsense. Three miles if you’re feeling optimistic. And as for the handling? Let’s just say there were a few moments that nearly saw me flattened by clueless drivers. Good fun, really. Still, I do try to be polite—sometimes even managing a half-hearted smile if I’m feeling generous. Mind you, my brain’s always off on some tangent—‘that’s just my head for you’, as they say. Anyway, I finally rolled over to this bloke and asked, ever so nicely, ‘Do we have a problem here?’ He started spouting off—language not fit for polite conversation—and I stayed calm as you like. Little did he know, I’m no delicate flower. Yes, I’ve got multiple sclerosis, but I’ve also got a wicked laugh and a tendency to surprise. So, I stood up to my full height, took off my shirt (why not, eh?), and said, ‘Let’s have it then.’ He legged it like a startled rabbit. I laughed so hard I nearly fell back into my chair. My balance wasn’t great back then—worse now, if I’m honest. So, that’s that. A little detour in memory lane, with a nod to my mates Warlock Stumuzz and the crew—those were the days. Happy times, even if the wheelchairs were rubbish.” looking out for a cheap 2hand q100 wheelchair sick@mylivinghell.co.uk

         “The views in this post are based on my personal  
          experience. I do not intend harm, only honesty.”

Well, it appears the universe has decided I need a front-row seat to the carnival of my own mind. Strange happenings, indeed. I’m left wondering whether I’m teetering on the edge of madness or just auditioning for the part of “eccentric hermit” in some cosmic sitcom. No, I’m not on any of those delightful MS meds, thank you very much. My body seems to view anything remotely pharmaceutical as a personal insult, so I let it run the show. The last time I had the pleasure of a “medication experiment,” it almost landed me an eight-day vacation in the hospital. And, as you can imagine, that wasn’t exactly on my bucket list. Anyway, back to the matter at hand—or perhaps I should say, misfiring nerves at hand. Am I seeing real things or just tripping on my own imagination? Who can say. My brain’s decided it’s time for a foggy intermission, complete with the usual “left-side-of-my-body hates me” encore. Lovely. The cherry on top? My tongue’s throwing a tantrum again with those oh-so-charming spasms, my gut nerves are having a rave, and the tinnitus is cranked up to eleven—like a personal heavy metal concert in my skull. So yes, everything’s perfectly normal around here.

         “The views in this post are based on my personal  
          experience. I do not intend harm, only honesty.”

Oh, another night in my personal version of Dante’s Inferno—just as delightful as the last. It’s funny how the nights just roll into one giant, sleepless horror show, starring yours truly: the eternally exhausted insomniac. Sleep? Ha! That’s just a luxury for people who aren’t forced to dance to the bladder’s hourly encore performance. And of course, this whole tragicomedy began because I had the sheer audacity to indulge in some sugar-laden jam. Sugar—apparently the mortal enemy of my wretched existence. Add to that the fact that my body decided to go full diva and refuse any animal fats, so now I’m stuck with a vegan diet. Except even the plant oils have formed a personal vendetta against me, turning mealtimes into a game of “Will This Kill Me or Merely Torture Me?” But wait, there’s more! Let’s not forget my lovely companion: multiple sclerosis. Yes, that dear old friend makes sure that pain and spasms are constant guests at this midnight carnival. A twitch here, a stabbing ache there—such delightful party tricks. And of course, the nerves love to join in, turning everything into an electrifying circus of agony. It’s like my entire body is in open revolt—because why the hell not? Dairy? Oh, dairy’s the showstopper. One whiff of it and I’m stuck in an endless cycle of gut-wrenching bathroom performances that would make even the most jaded horror director cringe. There’s nothing quite like losing your insides while your nerves are throwing their own spasm-fueled mosh pit. Sometimes, when the pain’s at its peak and sleep is a distant dream, my mind wanders to that dark, seductive thought: death. Not that I’d actually go there—I cling to life out of sheer stubbornness or maybe spite. But in those raw, bleak moments, it’s hard not to wonder why this is all happening to me. But then again—why the hell not? Life’s a twisted carnival, after all, and every night’s just another ride on this endless, blood-curdling loop. And so I ramble on, because what else is there to do?

“The views in this post are based on my personal
experience. I do not intend harm, only honesty.”

It's 2 in the morning, and I've managed a whopping 20 minutes of sleep. What a treat! Looks like it's going to be another long night of tossing and turning. Sleep? What’s that? The pain in my stomach and lower intestines is off the charts, and breathing feels like a luxury I can’t afford. I’m just lying here, wondering if I’m going to survive the night. It’s a real joy, let me tell you—staring into the dark, clutching my pillow like it’s a life raft in a storm. Eventually, I might squeeze in a catnap until 6, if I’m lucky. Oh, and let’s not forget the delightful MS nerve pain that’s decided to throw a party in my body. The side of my throat is in spasm, and my left side is completely numb—because who doesn’t love a little extra excitement in the middle of the night? So, yeah, not exactly a good night.

        “The views in this post are based on my personal  
          experience. I do not intend harm, only honesty.”

Hello World, Right now, I’m in the middle of a pretty severe MS flare-up, and I have to say, it’s been a tough one. My whole left side is numb, like I’ve had a stroke—or at least, that’s what it feels like. My balance is completely off, and the cognitive stuff is intense. It’s taking me forever to type this, and my head feels like a bowl of pea soup—just foggy and heavy. Lately, the front of my chest on the left side has started to feel... weird. I don’t even know how to describe it, but it’s like electrical shocks, and the nerves are on overdrive. It’s a feeling of total “headfrack” that I’m having trouble explaining, but I wanted to put it out there. Also, as if things weren't challenging enough, my wheelchair broke down, so now I’m stuck waiting on a call from the wheelchair services. Could be a long wait. In the meantime, I’m on the hunt for a cheap secondhand Q100 wheelchair. If anyone has tips or knows where to look, let me know! sick@mylivinghell.co.uk

         “The views in this post are based on my personal  
          experience. I do not intend harm, only honesty.”

Welcome to the Dark, Brilliant, Weird Little Empire of Chronic Truth — ruled by none other than Warlock Dark. This is no ordinary blog. This is a bastion for the broken, a fortress of the funny-boned, a castle built from sarcasm, tea, and nerve damage. Here, the pain is real, the humour is darker than a GP's coffee, and the bladder never sleeps.

📅 THE REAL STUFF (No Bull, No Fluff)

MS isn’t just a condition. It’s a full-body existential prank. But for anyone newly diagnosed or wondering what the hell is happening to their nervous system, here’s a raw, real, non-terrifying breakdown:

Numbness & Tingling — Fingers, toes, tongue, lips, everywhere. Like being slowly frosted by invisible fairies with bad intentions.

Vision Problems — Blurry, ghosted, monocular mischief. Suddenly you're part-cyclops.

Muscle Weakness & Spasms — Legs fold, arms tremble, and occasionally you Riverdance in your sleep.

Fatigue — Not "tired." Obliterated. Drained like an iPhone from 2009.

Cognitive Wipeouts — Losing track of the day, words, names, or why you're in the fridge again.

Bladder Madness — Two-hour toilet timer. Never off-duty. Never apologetic.

Pain — Burning, stabbing, aching. No metaphors required. It just hurts.

🌿 THE NOT-INSANE NATURAL STUFF

Move It — Yoga, stretching, tai chi, or just rolling your neck while cursing the heavens.

Eat Real — Anti-inflammatory stuff helps. Leafy things. Omega-3s. Less deep-fried beige.

Sleep Like You Mean It — Proper rest. Screens off. Mind down. Rage optional.

Mind Rituals — Journaling, meditating, ranting to the void.

Talk — To people. To animals. To plants. To invisible gods. Whatever keeps you tethered.

🇬🇧 THE BRITISHLY BLEAK HUMOUR SECTION

You know how it is:

You wake up feeling like a boiled skeleton. You try to stand and your leg says, "LOL no." You make it to the loo just in time to almost make it. Your doctor smiles, hands you a leaflet written in 1986, and tells you to "try breathing exercises."

And yet... you persevere. With a teacup in one hand, and the raw, burning rage of 10,000 misfiring neurons in the other.

🕯️ QUOTES FROM WARLOCK DARK (Volume I)

"My nerves are not broken — they are wild serpents, and I am learning to speak their tongue."

"This is not weakness. This is weather. Storms live inside me."

"I have seen the gods. They were waiting for their prescription refills too."

"Fatigue is a form of time travel. You blink, and the day is gone."

"This chair is not my end. It’s my war beast. Roll me to the gates, I dare you."

"Magic lives in broken places. I’m practically radioactive."

✍️ OUTRO FROM THE CHRONIC THRONE

So yes — the tongue is numb, the bladder’s a traitor, and the storm never really stops. But the mind? Still alive. Still wired weird. Still writing.

Stay tuned for Volume II: "Fatigue & Other Black Magics"

And remember: this is not recovery. This is reclamation.

Long live the Warlock. Long live the Chronic Empire.

🔮 Warlock Dark’s Quotes from the Edge (A.K.A. Mind Melt Time) Now, let’s go full myth. Let’s make MS epic. Let’s reforge this thing into weird, beautiful, apocalyptic poetry — courtesy of Warlock Dark, the ancient spirit of pain, mischief, and inconvenient wisdom:

🕯️ “My nerves are not broken — they are wild serpents, and I am learning to speak their tongue.” — Warlock Dark

🕯️ “This body is a cathedral struck by lightning. I don’t need healing. I need worship.”

🕯️ “Doctors gave me a folder. I gave them a prophecy.”

🕯️ “I have seen the inside of time. It crackles, it burns, it forgets its own name. That is what fatigue tastes like.”

🕯️ “They call it multiple sclerosis. I call it the slow alchemy of becoming something unkillable.”

🕯️ “Yes, I forget what day it is. Time has no meaning in the Warlock’s garden — only the storms remain.”

🕯️ “My wheelchair is not a prison. It is a throne on wheels, gliding through the ruins of the ordinary.”

🕯️ “The gods don’t answer my prayers. They take notes.”

🕯️ Warlock Dark’s Arcane Quotes for the Chronically Bewitched (Collectible. Utterly unusable. Spiritually necessary.)

“My nerves are not broken — they are wild serpents, and I am learning to speak their tongue.” – Warlock Dark, Volume I: ‘The Tingle Codex’

“This is not weakness. This is weather. Storms live inside me.” – Warlock Dark, Volume II: ‘The Internal Forecast’

“I have seen the gods. They were waiting for their prescription refills too.” – Warlock Dark, Volume IV: ‘Waiting Room Rituals’

“Fatigue is a form of time travel. You blink, and the day is gone.” – Warlock Dark, Volume V: ‘Chronicles of the Missing Afternoon’

“This chair is not my end. It’s my war beast. Roll me to the gates, I dare you.” – Warlock Dark, Volume IX: ‘Battle Hymns for the Seated’

“Magic lives in broken places. I’m practically radioactive.” – Warlock Dark, Untitled Fragment, scrawled on a napkin and burned. The gods are deaf. The stars are mute. The dark is deep, and the dark is acute. But still—he speaks, in verse and venom, His tongue numb, but truth within 'em.

For even in ruin, the Warlock remains, Wreathed in electric storms and phantom chains. He writes his spells in blood and pain, And dares the void to speak his name.

looking to buy a cheap second hand q100 wheelcair or similar in the devon cornwall area as mine has gone completely to the breakers yard in the sky ... many thanks sick@mylivinghell.co.uk

       “The views in this post are based on my personal  
          experience. I do not intend harm, only honesty.”