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⚠️ This blog shares my personal, sometimes painful experiences with MS and mental health. My intention is to speak honestly and offer solidarity not to harm or replace professional advice. I’m not a doctor or therapist, just someone who gets how hard it can get. If you’re struggling, you’re not alone. Please reach out to a trusted friend, support group, or professional. You deserve help and hope.⚠️
please remember I suffer with severe cognitive dysfunction this may be a confusing read. some AI help with written content
Seven Days of Weirdness, Two Neurologists and a Scooter of Death
Good afternoon, fellow humanoids... and any NHI who happen to be lurking in the background.
I trust everyone has survived another trip around the Sun.
My week?
Imagine a frog in a blender running on Mark IV speed.
That's pretty much where my brain has been for the last seven days.
Everything has been spinning. My head hasn't caught up with my body, my arms and legs have been buzzing like faulty electrical wiring, and that horrible neurological static has been humming away in the background. If you know the feeling... then you know.
Welcome to another perfectly ordinary week with progressive MS.
Last Sunday I had my appointment with my brand-new consultant neurologist at the new hospital.
The outcome?
Another MRI.
This time with contrast.
That should be... interesting.
Meanwhile my original neurologist has also been back in touch, and, as I suspected, he has pretty much confirmed what I already believed.
So now I somehow have two neurologists at two different hospitals looking at the same increasingly broken human being.
It's becoming less like healthcare and more like an episode of the twilight zone written by funky wordbender.
Let's just hope the two of them compare notes before I become the neurological equivalent of Wimbledon.
One neurologist has already said I have severe autonomic dysfunction.
He also believes I'm suffering from paroxysmal symptoms.
Those words actually explain quite a lot.
Now the trick is finding something that helps without making everything else considerably worse.
Speaking of which...
four-wheeled Scooter of Death
My brand-new four-wheeled Scooter of Death finally arrived.
It looks brilliant.
Unfortunately it can't legally venture onto the road until the DVLA paperwork comes back.
So there it sits.
Brand new.
Charged.
Ready.
Mocking me.
Once I'm finally allowed out, I'll have roughly a thirty-mile range, proper brakes, decent hill climbing and, hopefully, fewer moments where gravity tries to remind me who's boss.
Considering the eye-watering APR attached to the finance agreement, I'd quite like it to make tea as well.
Medication is another battlefield.
I've been taking magnesium at night because it seems to help my spasms and sleep.
Personally, it works well enough that I'm sticking with it.
Years ago I was prescribed Baclofen.
Never again.
It absolutely wrecked my stomach and bowel health.
Constipation.
Digestive problems.
The whole miserable package.
I explained all of this to the neurologist.
He listened...
...or at least his ears were pointing in my direction.
His eyes, however, had already glazed over somewhere around the second sentence.
You know that look.
The one that says,
"Yes... yes... now stop bringing lived experience into my textbook."
To be fair, I wouldn't call it outright gaslighting.
But there was definitely a faint aroma drifting in from the North Sea.
One thing I've learned over the years is this:
Gut health matters. Bowel health matters.
Gut health matters. Bowel health matters. A lot.
There's little point taking medication that eases one symptom while turning your digestive system into reinforced concrete.
These days I eat prunes regularly.
They're hardly glamorous.
No one's ever looked heroic while eating a bowl of prunes.
But they help me.
Hydration.
Fibre.
Regularity.
The glamorous life of chronic illness.
As always, this is simply what works for me.
Please don't copy anything blindly.
Research.
Talk to qualified professionals.
Make informed decisions.
Everyone's body is different.
All I know is this...
I'd rather eat prunes than spend four days negotiating with my own backside.
As if all that wasn't enough...
My computer decided this week was also an excellent time to throw a mechanical tantrum.
So...
New computer arghhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
a new computer with windows 11 now Linux.
Specifically Zorin Pro.
Overall?
Absolutely brilliant.
Cleaner.
Faster.
Less bloated than Windows.
I'm genuinely impressed.
That said...
My keyboard occasionally develops the personality of an angry badger and the mouse seems convinced it's an abstract artist.
So there are still a few teething problems.
The old mini PC isn't going to the recycling center though.
That'll become the Windows 10 machine.
Every household needs one sacrificial computer for doing all the stupid jobs you'd rather not risk your main machine with.
So that's been my week.
Seven solid days of neurological weirdness.
Hospital appointments.
MRIs.
Medical politics.
New hardware.
New software.
And enough bureaucracy to power the British Empire for another century.
Still...
We keep rolling.
Sometimes literally.
Sometimes only just.
Wherever you are, whatever you're facing...
I genuinely wish you peace, healing, love and light.
The forecast says next Friday could reach thirty degrees here in the UK.
Please drink plenty of water.
Look after yourselves.
Hydrate.
And don't underestimate your gut.
It spends every day looking after you.
The least we can do is return the favor.
Until next time...
Stay sarcastic.
Stay stubborn.
And remember—
If life insists on throwing you into the blender...
At least make sure someone forgets to put the lid on.
Warlock Dark Chronic illness survivor, truth-teller, occasional bastard. From My Living Hell (For those who came here by accident: yes, my living hell is real. And yes, we still fight. Every shitty day. With defiance.)
