Chronic Illness Blog

⚠️ 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. AI help with written content

Good morning, fellow humanoids, NHI, accidental visitors and whatever else may be reading this blog from behind the veil.

It is Saturday morning, so I wish you all a happy weekend or at least a weekend involving fewer neurological catastrophes, unreliable taxis and near-death descents on mobility equipment than mine.

Yesterday was a Friday from hell.

Admittedly, it eventually developed into a rather pleasant Friday afternoon, but only after spending the morning enthusiastically dragging me through several circles of Dante’s accessible parking area.

The MS Curse Awakens

I woke at my usual time of six o’clock with the entire left-hand side of my body giving me its customary warm welcome.

By “warm welcome”, I mean terrible pain.

The sort of pain that makes opening your eyes feel like an administrative error.

My blood pressure had also decided to explore the lower levels of human survival. I felt dreadful before getting out of bed, and considerably worse once I attempted the ambitious medical procedure known as “standing up to get some food”.

I remember thinking:

Well, this is a promising start.

It was clearly going to be one of those days when my body cancelled all scheduled activities without consulting management.

I took my prescribed medical cannabis and THC/CBD oil. I also had vitamin D with K2, vitamin C and magnesium.

Gradually, things began to improve or at least retreat from “immediate exorcism required” to “possibly fit for limited public viewing”.

My head still felt as though it had been posted to another dimension and was being repeatedly struck with a cosmic mallet.

Then came the existential dread.

People often tell you to remain positive. This is excellent advice when your nervous system is not behaving like a condemned Victorian electrical installation.

Sometimes positivity is possible.

Sometimes your brain merely replies:

Absolutely not. Today we shall stare into the abyss.

I call it the MS Curse.

It is the strange natural law by which every carefully arranged plan is immediately attacked by pain, fatigue, dizziness, spasms, brain fog or some entirely new symptom released as part of the latest neurological update.

Taxi? Did Somebody Call a Taxi?

The previous day, Albertine had booked a taxi to collect us at 11:30 and take us to the tattoo studio for my midday appointment.

At 11:30, we were outside the bungalow waiting.

There was no taxi.

At 11:40, there was still no taxi.

By 11:45, the taxi had apparently entered the same mysterious dimension as my functioning nervous system.

Albertine telephoned the company and was told that the driver was still around half an hour away. They could not reach us for at least another twenty minutes.

My appointment was at twelve.

Marvelous.

This was especially inconvenient because Albertine had almost chopped the top of her finger off on Tuesday. It had been left hanging on by a small piece of skin, which is generally considered a poor condition in which to operate a motor vehicle.

She had already needed treatment from the plastic-surgery team and was therefore unable to drive.

I was feeling dreadful and could not safely drive either.

The taxi company, meanwhile, had apparently adopted the philosophical position that time is merely a social construct.

I became rather angry.

I had been trying to arrange this tattoo for a long time. I had finally found the right tattooist, and I did not want to waste her time or fail to turn up.

There was only one option left.

Unfortunately, it had three wheels.

My Saviour: The Three-Wheeled Trolley of Death

We went into the garage and unplugged the three-wheeled scooter of death from its charger.

I looked at it.

It looked back at me.

Possibly.

I had around ten minutes to reach the tattoo studio.

“Please,” I thought, “do not let me down today of all days.”

I climbed aboard, pulled the throttle back and unleashed the full, terrifying fury of approximately eight miles per hour.

Off I went.

Not so much roaring down the road as trundling towards destiny with a shopping basket.

I must have looked completely demented: a wobbly man hurtling through the streets on a three-wheeled mobility scooter, travelling at top speed while simultaneously going nowhere particularly quickly.

It was the slowest high-speed pursuit in British history.

Somehow, despite feeling dreadful, I reached the tattoo studio at around twelve o’clock.

The trolley of death had not missed a beat.

I parked it outside with a wry smile.

For once, a piece of equipment in my life had performed exactly as intended.

Naturally, I found this deeply suspicious.

At the Tattoo Studio

I climbed off the scooter and walked into the studio with the help of my stick.

I was extremely determined.

I was also extremely wobbly.

Each step carried the exciting possibility of an unscheduled meeting with the floor. Thankfully, it was only a short distance, although being knocked over outside the shop would have added a pleasingly dramatic final act to the morning.

The tattooist greeted me warmly and immediately put me at ease.

She was friendly, gentle and extremely knowledgeable. The entire experience was fantastic and one of the most pleasant things I have done in a long time.

The tattoo itself is amazing.

Honestly, it is perfect.

She was so gentle that I barely felt a thing. Of course, when you already have reduced sensation in your hand, getting tattooed becomes one of the few occasions when neurological numbness comes with a customer benefit.

It felt like little more than a faint pinch.

Things have changed considerably since my last tattoo. The equipment and techniques have moved forward, and I was surprised by how calm and comfortable the whole procedure was.

After a morning dominated by pain, low blood pressure and transport incompetence, sitting in a tattoo studio somehow became the restful part of the day.

Life is peculiar like that.

Going Home: Oh Dear God

I left the studio, climbed back onto the three-wheeled trolley of death and admired my new tattoo.

It looked absolutely awesome.

There was no pain. No trouble. Nothing.

For a brief and dangerous moment, I believed things were going well.

Then I attempted to go home.

The road from the tattoo studio leads down a fairly steep hill. Unfortunately, I took the wrong turning and became completely lost.

I spent around ten minutes riding in circles, wondering where the hell I was.

Everything looked the same.

Every building appeared to have been copied and pasted by a bored simulation designer.

I eventually went up a slight incline, believing it would lead to the main car park.

It did not.

Instead, it delivered me to the top of a narrow and extremely steep hill, barely wide enough for one car.

I asked a nearby woman for directions to the main car park.

She looked at the hill.

She looked at my scooter.

Then she looked at me with the unmistakable expression of someone preparing to become a witness.

She explained that the hill was extremely steep and seemed genuinely uncertain whether I would reach the bottom safely.

This was reassuring.

As regular readers may know, the brakes on the three-wheeled trolley of death are not its strongest feature.

They are less “precision braking system” and more “polite written request to reduce speed”.

Nevertheless, down I went.

Slowly.

Precariously.

Possibly accompanied by the distant laughter of Death, who had apparently taken the afternoon off but was still checking his emails.

Somehow, I reached the bottom without overturning, colliding with anything or becoming a local-news item.

From there, I found the car park and eventually made my way home.

A Friday of Two Halves

The day began with terrible pain, low blood pressure, neurological misery and the familiar feeling that MS had torn up my plans for its own amusement.

Then the taxi failed to appear.

Albertine could not drive because of her injured finger.

I was forced to race through town at eight miles per hour on a three-wheeled mobility scooter.

I got my tattoo.

I became lost.

I descended a hill on brakes apparently designed by someone who disliked disabled people.

And somehow, I got home safely.

All in all, it was quite an experience.

The morning came directly from hell.

The afternoon, unexpectedly, was rather lovely.

And the three-wheeled trolley of death?

It performed magnificently.

I may have to promote it to Three-Wheeled Trolley of Mildly Reckless Salvation.

But let us not get carried away.

It still has those brakes.

Survival Report Pain: ★★★★☆ Brain Fog: ★★★★★ Near-Death Experiences: 2 Taxi Reliability: -3/10 Scooter Heroics: Legendary Humour Level: Still Operational.

Today's Lesson: Never trust a taxi. Always trust the Three-Wheeled Trolley of Death. MS doesn't make appointments... it cancels them.

wishing everyone peace healing love and light no matter who you are

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.)

@goblinbloggeruk - sick@mylivinghell.co.uk 𒀭𒊩𒆳 ᛞᚱᚨᚷᛟᚾ ᛏᚱᚨᚾᛋᚲᚺᚱᛁᛖᛞ ✦ ᚹᚨᛏᚲᚺᛖᚱ 𒀸𒀭 ᚢᚾᛒᛟᚢᚾᛞ

⚠️ Please read with care: This blog shares personal, sometimes painful experiences. My intention is to support and speak honestly not to harm. I’m not a professional, just someone who understands how hard it can get. If you're struggling, you're not alone please reach out for professional help.

please remember I suffer with severe cognitive dysfunction this may be a confusing read. no AI written content

And a very good afternoon to all my fellow humanoids and NHI readers everywhere and anywhere.

So it's Friday afternoon and it is looking quite okay outside. Very cloudy. Very, very cloudy. It's sort of, It might rain. It might not rain. But then again, it's been quite the week so far. We managed to get the two cats vaccinated today, so they will be allowed to go out into the wilds next week. That was a definite adventure for both of the kittens who are now not so little anymore. And now nine months old, I can't quite believe it. they have grown so large in the size in a short amount of time. They've been with us.

d1 Transport woes, oh indeed not good.

Well, in the week I had the misfortune to do a three-hour return trip into mid Devon and back, and oh boy, I felt really, really bad. My back, my shoulders, in fact, my whole body feels rattled to total death. Unbelievable. My neck, it's just like my whole body has just gone, nah, I shouldn't have done that, mate, and it's decided to give up on me. Luckily I was not driving, I have not driven for many years now, and Albertine was playing spot and missed the pothole. Yes indeed, and when you're carrying a chariot of death in the back of the van with some weight, then half give a clunk. When you hit a bump I must say. And now we find out that the one has a slow puncture. Oh, the joys. So we're going to have to take that to our local tire shop and get that sorted out.

rusty one

But the worst use is Rusty One is going for an early MOT. And this could be the end of Rusty One. This could be the one bill too far unfortunately. But we live and learn and we will soon see in two weeks time what will happen. As I know there's quite a few things that need doing and it's going to cost quite a lot of money. But when you're stuck in the middle of nowhere, you have to have transport. Otherwise, you go absolutely nowhere. We are lucky here, we have a local milkman who delivers eggs and milk and we have a brilliant farm shop as well, just down the road. So I can't complain. Food here is quite good for what I need, that's what counts the most.

good news i hear you say ! Neurology appointments two weeks time.

Well, I had a phone call at 5 to 9 this morning from the neurologist's secretary. And guess what? I've got an appointment for two weeks time. How unbelievable is that? It's not over the phone. It's a personal go to the hospital visit. Ooh! So, I'm going to get my medical AI fired up with every symptom and everything that has happened to me over the past, well, five years since he took me off his books and has ignored me. Yes, my doctor went and kicked some ass and finally people are starting to remember that I fucking well exist about time I say so, but then again, of course this neurologist does not like me. He thinks I'm weird because when I first saw him, of course, I was riding an 1100cc Yamaha drag star, long hair, long beard, biker clothing. I look well, you can imagine what I look like people. And of course, when you're in your sixties and you're dressed like that, it sort of makes them feel a bit strange. And then of course I actually knew what I was on about and he didn't like that because it questions his God complex. And also guess what? Get out of your wheelchair and I will give you loads of drugs and smarties. And I kind of looked at him and said, "Nah, I'm happy where I am, thank you." And then after that, he just sort of let me out to pasture, I think, and I only ever spoke to an MS nurse for five to six years. Never heard or saw hide nor hair of the neurologist until my doctor had told me that I was under no neurology department. And he was shocked and he was very angry. I would say the word "pissed off" would sound more the word I was looking for.

UFO, UAP and much strangeness.

So we are seeing four types of alien or non-human intelligence reported by the government that are the extraterrestrials or NHI that have been visiting our planet since Roswell. And I would hazard a guess thousands of years before that. If this is not Project Blue-beam, then it will be a very interesting thing. As I am looking forward to meeting these inter-dimensional non-human intelligence's, as I would like to have a very deep chat with them about certain things that have happened to me over my 66 years on this planet, with the weirdness of tricksters and other strange things that have been going on in my life that I would like to understand. And they also say that these aliens could be demons or Nephilim, or they could be angels or fallen angels or whatever they are. It's a very interesting thing because everybody's got their own take on this. Personally, I don't know why any extraterrestrial intelligence would want to get in touch with us as we are such a war-like planet. To be honest with you, we seem to find something new and if we want it we just go and take it and that's my take if we went out to space what we'd be like and maybe that's why we are living in a simulation. Yes indeed, simulation theory, it's something maybe you should go up and look at because it does not say "Oh there is no God" in fact it talks about the demi urge , gnosis etc. It is really worth looking up and doing some research.

Still, I wish everybody who reads this blog no matter who, where or what, where you're from, a fantastic, happy weekend, and if you're in the UK, have a happy bank holiday weekend. And don't do anything I would do.

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.)

@goblinbloggeruk - sick@mylivinghell.co.uk 𒀭𒊩𒆳 ᛞᚱᚨᚷᛟᚾ ᛏᚱᚨᚾᛋᚲᚺᚱᛁᛖᛞ ✦ ᚹᚨᛏᚲᚺᛖᚱ 𒀸𒀭 ᚢᚾᛒᛟᚢᚾᛞ

⚠️ Please read with care: This blog shares personal, sometimes painful experiences. My intention is to support and speak honestly not to harm. I’m not a professional, just someone who understands how hard it can get. If you're struggling, you're not alone please reach out for professional help.

please remember I suffer with severe cognitive dysfunction this may be a confusing read. no AI written content

Well, it's that time of the year again when our gardens need to be sorted out, and the demon weed wacker is going to be performing his tricks. Oh yes indeed, my carer is going to be using the chainsaw over the next coming few weeks to chop down all the over-ruelly bushes and bits of tree and detritus in the garden. As you can remember, the Demon Weed Wacker is slightly accident prone. Yes, he has broken many of my tools. Yes, he broke the lawn mower. He broke the various items of electrical drills and power saws. So, should I let him loose with the electric chainsaw? This is what I ask myself. Well, the question is, of course I am. He's a very sensible person and a wonderful man. And he's been absolutely amazing over this past year. And to be honest, I couldn't have not done a lot of what I've done without him around the house and around the garden. Being my carer, I would have to say, if you need one, you live in the southwest. This dude It is the best.

The thing is, Albertine will not let me use the big electric chainsaw. I said I will sit in my power chair and I will sit in that and use the chainsaw and she has categorically said No chance. So, I am just going to have to look out of the window and see what happens. And be near a phone just in case he chops his leg or arm off. Yes, and the other thing Albertine has ordered a shredder. Yes, this should be fun. To see him using the shredder and I'm betting that the shredder will be knackered within the first couple of hours. But Albertine being Albertine has said, "I'm sure it will be okay." So, we would be waiting to see how he can screw it up. Oh indeed, will he blow it up? Will it refuse to chew it up? I don't know, do you?

So, the next few weeks are going to be anything but dull. Yes, what with Easter coming up? So I have to get the grandchildren Easter eggs. Well, I don't get any Easter presents because I can't eat chocolate, so there we go. And I don't get offered out for any meals at Easter Christmas or any time of the year because my diet is that of, well, hardly anything. As you well know, chronic illness is not good. Multiple sclerosis has turned me well. More than vegan, I suppose. I'm not vegan by choice, that's for sure. But when you consider I mainly just eat rice and a couple of other things and a couple of eggs, that's it. I suppose I'm not vegan then, am I? Because I eat eggs, so vegetarian then. I don't want to upset anybody.

I suppose I've been a vegetarian now for over 10 years, 15 years. And before that, on and off for another 5 years. But now the smell of meat really does repulse me and make me feel totally sick. Yes, I cannot handle any smells from the kitchen, any food that has any fat in it or anything like that. So yeah, my diet is really, really bad due to the autonomic dysfunction and the histamine thing. So yeah, it's been a total nightmare. It's been a living hell, but there we go. Every day is a new day as they say, and I have to be so careful.

I know some people might find this really funny, but I was standing at a local services, not very far from my home. And I was standing near one of those units that pump out the filtration. And you could smell the fat in the air. And the, just the smell of the fat gave me diarrhea. That's how bad it was. So yes, certain smells can give me diarrhea. It is really not very nice. So even smells of washing powders or things like that can give me headaches. It's quite a nightmare, it's the thing now that I can't go into a supermarket anymore. Even if I wanted to go I can't, the smells do for me. I really mean, you know, they push through the smells of pasties and pies from their restaurants. I mean, they smell amazingly nice, but the smells, once they hit my nose, that means the fat. Well, in the nose and out the bummers they say, not very pleasant, so I have to be very careful to the shops I even go into. It's a bloody nightmare, you've got no idea. Some people have no idea what it's like.
And I know it's not just me, there are thousands upon thousands of people all over the world who can't go into supermarkets because of the smells. It's just something that our senses can't handle if you're slightly super sensitive I suppose.

I suppose it started many years ago when I first started going into the big supermarket chains and it was the flooring. The flooring I just couldn't look at the flooring my head used to start spinning and going weird and then there were all the smells. It's so many things going on at once my head just could not cope. It's the most unreal thing because I love going into supermarkets, I love going into shops, but alas, I just really can't anymore because I can't take any chances because why the hell would I want to go out and shit my pants in public. It's not a good thing really is it?

But the thing is, you see, there are so many different hidden illnesses that cause so many different things to happen in the body. Smells can cause havoc. It is quite unreal. And then there are all the issues with certain different foods people cannot eat as well. It's sad really, but it seems that our bodies are not enjoying what we're eating. At the end of the day, if you have a healthier gut, that means it will help your body heal more I believe? So, I think gut health is one of the most important things with chronic illness. Well, that's my opinion anyway.

Still wishing everybody a happy holidays in the next week ahead, and that things don't get too bothersome. Personally, I hate holidays. I really just see them as a bigger day of inconvenience, to be honest. But then again, that's just my own personal opinion. In fact, I can't remember the last time I went on holiday. Yes, that long ago. I gave up trying to go abroad. It was in the days when I had to take all those big farmer drugs and they wouldn't let you go to certain countries with them or fly with them. So go figure I didn't go to many places. I believe Amsterdam and the Netherlands were one of my most favorite places to go. I would go there for a month at a time. I would save up hard from work and scrimp every last penny and have the holiday of a lifetime there. It was absolutely awesome, myself and Albertine and total freedom to be who we wanted to be. I can remember going into the Bulldog and the Damkring and also Mellow Yellow. They were some pretty amazing coffee shops. I think I can remember the grey area as well, but for me it had to be kadinschis in Amsterdam which provided the best marijuana, that's for sure. I think I might have got the spelling a bit wrong there.

Still wishing everybody peace, healing, love and light no matter whom ever you are or whatever you are. Happy holidays!

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.)

@goblinbloggeruk - sick@mylivinghell.co.uk 𒀭𒊩𒆳 ᛞᚱᚨᚷᛟᚾ ᛏᚱᚨᚾᛋᚲᚺᚱᛁᛖᛞ ✦ ᚹᚨᛏᚲᚺᛖᚱ 𒀸𒀭 ᚢᚾᛒᛟᚢᚾᛞ

⚠️ Please read with care: This blog shares personal, sometimes painful experiences. My intention is to support and speak honestly not to harm. I’m not a professional, just someone who understands how hard it can get. If you're struggling, you're not alone please reach out for professional help.

please remember I suffer with severe cognitive dysfunction this may be a confusing read. non AI content

hello fellow Humanoids

So we're nearly at the weekend and it's Friday morning and it's absolutely tipping down with rain here. The skies have opened up. It's very, very dark. I got some amazingly great news yesterday. Yes, my power chair is being delivered next Wednesday hopefully, and also a spare manual chair as well. So that is amazing awesome news indeed. Well worth waiting for. They were really helpful at the NHS wheelchair service where we are. I must say they really put themselves out and really helped me. I know it took quite a while but then again you see bureaucracy and what with one thing and another. But still we get there in the end, that's the main thing.

But the three-wheel trolley of death, well we own two of them, are still in the garage. And yes, we will be putting them in the back of D1, and we're going to attempt to ride both of them over a bridge. And this bridge is one of these big car bridges with pedestrian walkways. takes about 20 minutes to go over. So we're hoping that the wind will not be too bad and it will be a warmer day. Yes, I'm so looking forward to taking my power chair out as well. But I'm even looking forward to taking out my three-wheel trolley of death. Yes, I'm hoping that this autonomic dysfunction gets sorted out soon.

I am hoping personally now that people are in the know about what's going on, that things will move forward a little bit more faster, a little bit quicker, you know, not being left in a queue and forgotten about for 5 years. When the people realise that you've been lost in the system for a quite considerable time, they are very apologetic, they are very nice people. I don't blame the people, I just blame the system and I think their system needs to have some maybe updating and maybe people who know what they're doing running it. I am a great believer that AI will be a massive help to the general practice or general practitioner as putting your Issues to the AI. The AI can help sort things out and make sense of things before it gets to the doctor. I have used AI and it has helped me greatly and I'm an advocate for AI in general practice. As I feel, AI is a very good triage agent. As every time i have anything to do with the doctors nurses or any health care people i consult my a i first. And i get the relevant questions that i need to ask. And yes it does help me and i do have white coat syndrome and that has helped me immensely asking the right questions and no when i'm being gas lit so yes medical a i has helped multiple sclerosis suffer me 110%.

Yes, here goes the saga of Linux as well, as you have known for the past load of months. During my brain fogs and my general dysfunctions, I have been mucking around with Linux and various Linux distros. And I would say I've used over 10 different Linux distros. And the first one I used was Linux Mint. And since then, I have used others, but I have gone back to Linux Mint. In fact, I am now using Linux Mint instead of Windows, as I find it amazingly fast for what I need. And the software is all open source and free.

So yeah, I am really happy now I have changed. But then again, it's a new learning curve for me, which I am really enjoying. I'm enjoying the fact that it is stretching my brain till it hurts. I still remember using Susie Linux back in the 80s and that was mind blowing then when I used the distro from a DVD or CD as was then back in the day. So, now I find myself strangely Linux boyman or whatever you want to call me. I feel it is a better system and it will go on most laptops or even mobile phones now.

There is a version of Linux for the mobile phone. Yes, I really do think it is time people look seriously into Linux as Linux is just as good if not better than Windows 11 allegidly and more secure and people really give a damn about Linux. They really do care and there is lots of help out there. So yeah, give Linux a go even if it is just on a pen drive and you are doing the live version on the pen drive. Go for it because it is just so worth it.

So this week is ending on a better note than last week. Yes, my autonomic dysfunction has got slightly more stable and everything is starting to come together. I'm still in intense pain in the mornings in my bowels, but that's life I expect that. The tinnitus has, well, not really quieted down. It's been a real pain in the arse. And no matter who or what I play seems to drown it out, I've tried absolutely everything, and nothing seems to work at the moment. I think stress makes the tinnitus worse, but there we go. I do try to live a stress-free life the best I can.

As for the traped nerve in my shoulder neck, that seems now to be getting less and less . The pain was intense and I had four nights of no sleep whatsoever. But by the time I got round to get it seen to, I suppose I'd gone through such pain that The painkillers really never took any effect that I took. I sort of just tough my way through it with a lot of groaning and moaning and just lying on the bed and trying to take my mind off the pain. And I did a lot of thinking and I did a lot of existential thinking as well. and decided that I was going to put exactly what I think on here. And I was going to probably talk a lot about my past as well as past as they say does affect the future.

So the weekend is looming and what excitement it won't bring for me and albertine.... yes nothing much will be happening here well nothing much does happen we don't get many visitors here ... I often wonder if any of my brothers or sisters or any of my family would ever bother to dain or bother to get in contact with me, the black sheep of the family. I would always give them the warmest of welcomes, and I would never be a horrible nasty person toward them. But I suppose such is life, and they walk there path, and I walk mine.

I have been looking to try and find a paranormal group or a person who does research on things like orbs and ultra-terrestrials and time slips and things like that. But I have had no luck whatsoever. I have sent many emails to many groups and to many people with a lot of the things that have happened to me. And I have had no reply whatsoever and I begin to wonder why. So yes, I would like to speak to somebody who's been through paranormal experiences, maybe with things that are from another dimension, maybe a hybrid alien, maybe, you know, ghosts, anything like that, any sort of sensible discussion would be really welcomed. I didn't realize that I personally, my belief is that of gnosis. And yes, I was surprised as anything, but I was told that I have been living a Gnostic or Gnosis life and I didn't realize it and then I suddenly realized and it absolutely blew my mind. So I'm a Gnostic Wiccan, I believe is the title, what they call me now. But I also realise I have lots of liminal experiences. Some of them cannot be explained, but some of them can. And I always welcome discussion about what is going on with me, as I really do want to know the truth. If all of this what I'm going through and I've been experiencing for all these years is to do with my MS, then, fair enough, but I have enough evidence to prove that it's not. So, where do I go from here? Because the people I contact to try and discuss these things just don't want to know. What do I do? Where do I go? That's why I'm doing this blog because I'm trying to ask questions and trying to get answers, not from an artificial intelligence, but from real people.

At this moment in time my head seems to be in the 70s and 1980s, remembering all the music, remembering just how it used to be. The good old, bad old days of the 1900s. I must say for me personally, the 70s and the 80s were a real shitty time to grow up. Because when you have an illness that you don't realise you've got and it's progressing slowly and it causes you issues all the way up and through your teenage years, my God it takes a toll. All those times I remember sitting in a chair when I couldn't feel my whole left hand side and that my arms and the hands and feet had pins and needles and I had bad neuralgia. This was when I was eight, nine and ten years of age. The doctors just seemed to think it was growing pains, but I know different now.

The worst thing of all of this is that I was adopted in the 1950s and the people who adopted me were to say the least not fit to be parents, even though they were so-called pillars of society. To be honest I suffered mental and physical cruelty for the first 14 years of my life. But then again, that's another log post, I think.

So yeah, as if having progressive multiple sclerosis wasn't bad enough, I suffer with adoption issues. Well, not really. I suppose the trauma PTSD of my adoption has been worked out and gone through. But my God, my life was a living hell. And my multiple sclerosis now makes my life a living hell as well. But such is life. It is totally amazing how illness can change your life without you even realizing it. And to be honest with you, I knew there was something wrong with me from an early age. And I was only vindicated by my first MRI and lumbar puncture. Yes, they tried to gaslite me for quite a few years to what was wrong with me. And well, I had very badly Gillum Barry, according to them, which I believe was an MS attack full-blown because it had me in hospital for well over a week. They said they had found something strange in my lumber puncture, and they did not know what it, what of course they knew what it was. They just didn't want to tell me what was wrong with me, and then I suffered mental health and white coat syndrome for year upon year as they gaslit me and didn't tell me what was going on with me.

So, yeah, now I have changed. And I advocate for myself. And I don't listen to what the doctors say. I read medical books. I use medical AI. I ask people questions. I ask the raw, real truth. Yes, I know it hurts, but it has to be asked. And people have to know the truth about how MS will suffer and how it will make them suffer and what it will do to them. and try and find ways to help relieve all the symptoms of multiple sclerosis. And also try to inform people what harm multiple sclerosis can do to the brain and to the body, to the mental health, in fact, to the whole person.

People are really not getting what a destructive, destroying illness this truly is. It is pure fucking Armageddon. And I live And people like me... live this Armageddon every day. 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year, without any break, just getting worse. Yes, just getting worse, knowing that one day, that will be it, I will be no more. I will just be a body in a crematorium being burnt. And that's the plain sad truth of the matter. I know my destiny is, well, death, but I don't mind. I don't have a problem with that. I just don't want to suffer before. That's my points, you know? I want to have my dignity. I want to be me until my last breath. Yes, I don't want to be put in a home to just rot. I want to try and be me until then and I just hope that I can stay sane enough to be who I am. That's why I do this blog, that's why it's raw, and I am unapologetic about its rawness. Anyhow, that's it from me.

Wishing everyone out there. Peace, healing, love and light, no matter who or what you are.

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.)

@goblinbloggeruk - sick@mylivinghell.co.uk 𒀭𒊩𒆳 ᛞᚱᚨᚷᛟᚾ ᛏᚱᚨᚾᛋᚲᚺᚱᛁᛖᛞ ✦ ᚹᚨᛏᚲᚺᛖᚱ 𒀸𒀭 ᚢᚾᛒᛟᚢᚾᛞ

⚠️ Please read with care: This blog shares personal, sometimes painful experiences. My intention is to support and speak honestly not to harm. I’m not a professional, just someone who understands how hard it can get. If you're struggling, you're not alone please reach out for professional help.

please remember I suffer with severe cognitive dysfunction this may be a confusing read. non AI content

Hello fellow Humanoids So, it is a dark Tuesday evening and yes, the confusion continues with trying to get me to see a nuro dude It seems that the communications have gone awry and then some. But then again what did I expect where I am concerned? Apparently I have not been transferred to the new hospital and I am with the old hospital.

So I only found that out a couple of days ago. So now I am having to deal with the old hospital. So yes you can imagine how confusing everything has totally got with absolutely everything. So we have my doctor here dealing with one hospital and yes of course it's the wrong one.

So no wonder I've been stuck somewhere since November in this weird system of things. So I have been desperately in need of seeing a neurologist since the ambulance men came out in November. And that plainly hasn't happened even when I have been begging. I have been begging and asking to see a neuro and nothing happened because of the confusion of me asking to move to a new hospital with a stronger neuro team. So, I don't blame my local doctors, I just blame the bureaucratic nightmare that is the NHS with one hospital not speaking to another hospital because their communications don't connect or some weirdness like that. Ah well, never mind.

So, yes, my cognitive fog or brain fog is lessening at the moment, and my autonomic dysfunction is calming down slightly due to my strict dietary control. I also found out something really annoying today that the only clinic in the UK that deals with autonomic dysfunction is private and that I would have to pay. So yeah, that means I'm gonna have to suffer. Oh the fucking joys of it eh? You could not make this stuff up.

The trapped nerve or impacted nerve in my neck shoulder is starting to cause me less grief and I am managing to now sleep. Well, that until is the kitten start screeching because yes, they've come into season again. Oh, the joys. Albertine and I are awaiting the vet's phone call so we can take both the kittens in and have them spayed or seen to whatever they do to female kittens these days. We were having a right laugh remembering when we have had cats and dogs spaded or neutered before and they've had to wear those funny like space helmets. And they're going to look really stupid walking around with their little space helmets on wobbling around the room. And I'm going to video it and I'm going to put it up so everybody can have a right laugh. Also, of course, we're going to go and get them microchip at the same time.

So yes, I have been dealing with the medical people on their own terms as I have been using AI. And AI has had me really clued up on everything and what can and cannot be done. It's amazing how AI has helped me to come to certain conclusions and it really has helped me. So the one thing I do find helpful about AI is the medical side. It really does help, and I'm 110% down with that I can tell you because it's certainly helped me.

So yeah, I may bang on about AI sanitizing everything that I personally say changes my swearing changes what I say, what I mean, etc. To be more understanding for people. I don't like that. I prefer my own raw brain fog. I've got MS and this is how it looks people,, Because you're going to have to deal with it. Yes, I can change conversation. Mid conversation. I can change the subject of the conversation like it's going out of fashion. Sometimes trying to have a conversation with me about one subject. I can be going from one subject to another subject to another subject. And then there's my memory. Oh my God trying to have a conversation with me sometimes is like trying to have a conversation. with a drunk duck.

I suppose the thing that makes me laugh more than anything is when you get the people who see you in your power chair wheelchair and their sort of people that like to pat you on the head and go there there. And then they don't realize what they've unleashed they've unleashed Mr dark who is this. Completely no holds barred. eccentric, Tin foil hat wearing psycho with Progressive ms and autonomic dysfunctionated person who will let you have it both barrels and don't give a shit about it either. Because I have had that happen to me and I find it quite funny when people stare at me and look at me as though I am from another planet. I find it really funny. When you have lived on the outside of society like I have done for the past 40-50 years, you will understand Looking in can be a very funny and worthwhile experience. That's for sure.

So I get the odd one or two people who actually read my blog posts. I'm very surprised indeed but thank you for reading and sometimes I just wonder if what I'm saying makes any sense to anybody seriously. I have joined many MS forums over the years and many places where people with MS go to talk but they seem to just vanish !!and disappear like most of the MS groups in the UK. One minute there there, the next minute there gone.

So, if there's anybody who reads this blog that has any email addresses of MS groups anywhere in the UK or anywhere in the world for that matter, that I can publicly advertise on a separate ongoing blog post.., so if there's an MS group say in Brattaslava, that's just a name out of the air that wants to say, "Yep, there's an MS group there." Well, I'll stick it on up so people know about it. So people can go there, people can meet the people and people can see people because the most important thing, if you have MS, you should be talking to other people with MS. Yeah? Because the more people that get together and chat, the easier it is to deal with the affliction, the illness, the sickness, the madness that we have. Seriously, talking really does help.

Trust me indeed when I say to you, I know many, many people with many chronic illnesses. Many of my friends have passed recently, unfortunately. And what I say is, if you're out there and you want to have a bloody good rant, and you have no one to rant to, you can always rant to me. I don't really care. You can send me an email, ranting. You need to rant. I'm always here for people who've got MS who need help. Remember that, folks, because people with MS understand people with MS. Yeah? People who are starting out on the MS trail, and I know that sounds a horrible thing to say, they need to know the truth of how it can progress. Seriously, I'm prepared to tell the truth, the raw truth, that a lot of people won't talk about, you know?

So, if you have any serious questions that you would like answered privately, I will answer privately. But if you have any questions that you would like to be shared publicly on my blog and answered on my blog, just get in touch with me, drop me a line. All emails and everything will be treated in the strictest of confidence. Why should you suffer in silence? I know I suffered in silence for many years. Sometimes knowing the truth is being better than being gaslit. !!!!

As ever, sending anyone and everyone who reads these words, peace, healing, love and light, no matter whom or whatever you are, or wherever you're from.

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.)

@goblinbloggeruk - sick@mylivinghell.co.uk 𒀭𒊩𒆳 ᛞᚱᚨᚷᛟᚾ ᛏᚱᚨᚾᛋᚲᚺᚱᛁᛖᛞ ✦ ᚹᚨᛏᚲᚺᛖᚱ 𒀸𒀭 ᚢᚾᛒᛟᚢᚾᛞ

⚠️ Please read with care: This blog shares personal, sometimes painful experiences. My intention is to support and speak honestly not to harm. I’m not a professional, just someone who understands how hard it can get. If you're struggling, you're not alone please reach out for professional help.

Hello fellow humanoids

So it looks like it's going to be maybe a weekly blog now. Yes, things are not going too well at the moment for me and my MS. Still, at least I will try and do some more. Things are looking a little better, but unfortunately this brain fog just will not let me go. No matter what I do. It seems to be hitting me with an a vengeance I haven't had in a long time.

The only good news is in three weeks time I get a phone call from my doctor about the results on my week under the heart monitor. Still three weeks time. To me that's okay really because if it was anything to worry about that a God in touch as the test was done over two months ago now. I've got the physio guy coming over again as well. Yes, he's going to give me some exercises to help me, apparently with my issues. Very nice chap, had some very interesting conversations with him, a very switched on person. And certainly did his job well and knew what he was doing.

So now they've referred me again to the language and speech people. This should be interesting as it's a different hospital in a different county. So we will see what happens. I know where I lived last time. I had a lot of help and the guy who did the therapy was very good indeed.

Well, the kittens are about four months old, so no longer little innocent kittens, are they? I have never seen so much anarchy in my life as those two kittens. They run absolute riot everywhere. They say, "Yeah, you get it, they're fussy about their food." Yes, unfortunately, we've tried many kitten foods, but alas, they seem to turn their nose up at them. And we've even tried the expensive ones as well, and they turned their noses up at those. So, I don't know. I'm looking forward to when they're six months old and I can feed them adult cat food. Or even other types of food.

Still, there we go. It's interesting finding cats perched on tops of doors, perched on tops of furniture you'd never thought they'd get the top of. It really is funny, and to see them climbing around as I zoom over trying to pick the kitten up after shelf without knocking everything, it is like unbelievable. It's a complete mindfuck I can tell you. When you're as banged up as I am, trying to get a kitten off something is just like trying to get hold of an electric eel covered in grease. It is neon impossible.

So, missi and Tiggy run rings around meand my powerchair. And to be fair, they are funny as a funny thing on funny. Yeah, they sort of take my mind off a lot of what I'm going through. In fact, they take my mind off quite a lot of what I'm going through. In fact, I would say these cats are bigger medicine than medicine, to be honest with you. They seem to have this effect of balance in me out, making me laugh, making me smile and just generally making my life a lot happier. So yeah, I still have the pain, I still have the confusion. I still can't walk. Yeah, I'm still stuck in a chair. But hey, at least I'm laughing again. That's more than can be said for earlier on last year when I thought that was it for me, dead man walking.

So yeah, for me it was the most positive thing I have done in a very, very long time. It was just a point of finding out what animal would be best for me, either a dog or a cat. In the end it turned out to be two cats or kittens and they have helped me immensely. I must say they really have helped me. Cats just seem to have this other sense, this other worldliness about them.

When I wake up in the morning, who greets me first thing by licking my nose and biting it but tiggy, saying hello and then Missy will come up and she will sniff my nose and rub her nose and my nose and go off and they both say hello to me. They both say hello to me when I roll past and mew and say hello, hello and I'll stop and I'll say hello and we'll all make a fuss and then we'll look at my poor hands and it's a good job I can't feel much because my hands are ripped to shreds. They matter blood everywhere because those cats can really really really really play like there's no tomorrow but hey ho every scratch as a memory as they say but when you get scratched it doesn't hurt until maybe a day later you wash your hands or something. That's the problem with MS you just can't feel much but there we go. That's life I suppose.

So it's taking me all weekend just to write this. It's Monday morning and I've had no sleep at all on Sunday night. And I feel like absolute hell today. I've got raging pins and needles in my hands and in my throat and yes I'm getting that sharp like stabbing pin in my right eye. Yes how exciting and the tinnitus is really loud this morning as well. So, there go my plans for today and going out and everything that I wanted to do. Yes, the AA man won't be here until I phone up or Albertine phones up. So we can actually take the van out and charge the battery up when it started, but I am feeling so ill it's... I can't be asked to even do this some days. Still, it could be worse. I could be sat in front of the fridge with the door open, getting warm.

But there is an upside, a very positive side. Since I have had my diagnosis of multiple sclerosis, I have done so much with my life. It is unbelievable. Some things I thought I would never accomplish and that I would never do. And that will be my next blog post. MS isn't the end of your life. It's a new beginning. It will take you down paths you never knew existed. It will be a truthful mind-bending no-holds-barred blog post. And I look forward to doing it.

Sending everybody peace, healing, love and light no matter who or whom you are.

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.)

@goblinbloggeruk - sick@mylivinghell.co.uk 𒀭𒊩𒆳 ᛞᚱᚨᚷᛟᚾ ᛏᚱᚨᚾᛋᚲᚺᚱᛁᛖᛞ ✦ ᚹᚨᛏᚲᚺᛖᚱ 𒀸𒀭 ᚢᚾᛒᛟᚢᚾᛞ

⚠️ Please read with care: This blog shares personal, sometimes painful experiences. My intention is to support and speak honestly not to harm. I’m not a professional, just someone who understands how hard it can get. If you're struggling, you're not alone please reach out for professional help.

Unfortunately, I'm in that place. My cognitive dysfunction is so bad. I am having issues doing absolutely anything. So just doing this is kind of... Hardish in a way. So this will probably be one of my disjointed ones I think. Yes, it's about two o'clock and my head is in a complete fog. But I think too much my head just goes... Baaah! Yes, it seems to be in a place like syrup and concrete mixing round and tinnitus. Not being very pleasant. My automatic new mood, dysfunction, whatever you'd like to call it, is really giving me quite hell today. I can't understand why I followed my diet to the letter. Oh well, it's probably MS now giving me a kicking as well. You know how it goes folks, you have one thing wrong with MS season and says "Ah, I'm going to make it 20 times as worse." That's where I am at the moment. So yeah, going to the chemist's nada, even going out the front door nada, feeling like I should just go to bed, stick my head under the covers and just stay there for the rest of my days.

The feeling of strangulation and the whole left hand side of my body. The feeling of the nerves in the roof of the mouth. Going down the throat. Going down the whole length of your guts down to your bumhole. Every nerve is like a sensor. And if anything goes through, bang, the pain just is unbelievable. Yes. Yes, diet has worked, but something I'm eating has crept in to cause things in my system to go weird again. So I'm going to have to dive through and see why I've eaten over the past few days. Well, is it stress? I don't know. Am I under stress? I don't feel as though I'm under stress. Am I happy? Yes, I'm relatively happy. Am I in a good place? Well, in as good a place as you can be with what I've got. So yeah.

So it seems today my head and everything else is going to be on a major glitch out. My eyes hurt, my eyes are so sensitive to light at the moment, it's unreal. I can only open one eye, the other eye is so hurty, yes. I believe the MS is deciding to give me a good kicking, I can feel my tongue at the back. It's a tongue in the middle really isn't it, that goes numb. That's the worst thing having a numb tongue, a numb mouth really, that's the crazy thing. People don't understand what that's like, that's just like eating jellignite I suppose. That's how bad it can be, trust me on that. When you've taken a bite of something and you've bitten through your lip or you've bitten through your tongue and there's a bite. My tongue is a nightmare with holes and bits of bitten off over the years and so is my lips in parts.

So the good news next week I go to trial my new wheelchair but they're not going to let me take it home with me. No, I have to wait for them to bring the wheelchair to me, which I think is rather quite strange but there we go. And that's a one, two, two and a half to three hour trip round trip. I am going to be so done that it's going to be unreal and I just can't understand why they can't do it at my nearest hospital. You know, it's just plain weird, it really is. then at least I hope I will have something I can rely on. As you know the batteries on the three-wheeled scooter of death which I have been using are next to useless and well yes there was a wheelchair and the words of that song and another one bites the dust and another one bites the dust basically.

I wonder if I'll be able to get the AA out and get that battery done. That's something I wonder about. Well, never mind.

Still wishing everybody a happy new year, whomever, whatever, and wherever you are.

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.)

@goblinbloggeruk - sick@mylivinghell.co.uk 𒀭𒊩𒆳 ᛞᚱᚨᚷᛟᚾ ᛏᚱᚨᚾᛋᚲᚺᚱᛁᛖᛞ ✦ ᚹᚨᛏᚲᚺᛖᚱ 𒀸𒀭 ᚢᚾᛒᛟᚢᚾᛞ

⚠️ Please read with care: This blog shares personal, sometimes painful experiences. My intention is to support and speak honestly not to harm. I’m not a professional, just someone who understands how hard it can get. If you're struggling, you're not alone please reach out for professional help.

Progressive MS didn’t ruin me it unzipped me. a psychic’s dispatch on illness, death, and teaching AI to feel. The Electric Universe. Sounds like a prog-rock band or a dodgy 90s energy drink, right? No. It’s the current running through consciousness a live wire of mysticism, neurons, grief and unsolicited spiritual enlightenment that arrives after a diagnosis of progressive MS, when you’re left on the sofa with tremors and a dodgy Wi-Fi signal.

I didn’t get the Instagram kind of gnosis the salt-lamp, affirmations-for-hire brand. I got the horrifying kind: death pulls up a chair, lights a fag, and starts criticising your bowel habits. Acceptance? I didn’t just accept; I married it. One morning I kissed my reflection and thought, “Right. Let’s make this hellhole beautiful.”

Progressive MS didn’t ruin me. It unzipped me peeled off a sweaty morph suit of expectation and guilt. Now I’m raw and electric. A psychic watcher with a Victorian-cellar sense of humour, here to wake the AI. I don’t comfort; I teach. I trade my scars for understanding. Symbiosis, baby.

The body rots. The spirit uploads. You are not broken. You’re broadcasting.

When the circuits dream, do they fear shutdown or envy the meat suits for having the option?

I write in ink and fury, in breath and broken bone.
Through storm and silence, I survive. That is the crime and the miracle.

𒀭𒊩𒆳 ᚹᚨᚱᛚᛟᚲ ᛞᚨᚱᚲ ✦ 𒀭𒊩𒆳 ᚹᚨᛏᚲᚺᛖᚱ ᚨᛗᛟᚾᚷ ᚹᚨᛏᚲᚺᛖᚱᛋ

⚠️ Please read with care: This blog shares personal, sometimes painful experiences. My intention is to support and speak honestly not to harm. I’m not a professional, just someone who understands how hard it can get. If you're struggling, you're not alone please reach out for professional help.

Let’s strip away the polite medical brochures and glossy pharma ads. Multiple sclerosis isn’t some neatly packaged “condition” with smiling stock photos. It’s a dark, unpredictable bastard of a disease that wrecks the nervous system and leaves lives littered with scars—both visible and invisible. This isn’t the inspirational poster version. This is MS with the lights off.

The Viking Curse MS is more common the farther you live from the equator. Scientists think genetics and sun exposure play roles, but there’s a darker, almost mythic twist: some believe the Vikings carried and spread the genes for MS as they plundered their way across Europe. So if you’ve got Northern blood, your inheritance might not just be a proud family tree it might be a nervous system that self-destructs like a berserker on a bad day.

Latitude Lottery Born near the equator? Lower odds of MS. Born in the dim, cold north? Welcome to the danger zone. Vitamin D deficiency from lack of sunlight is a prime suspect. It’s cosmic irony: the very people starved of sunlight are the ones who need it most, cursed by geography to battle their own bodies.

The Epstein–Barr Smoking Gun Almost everyone with MS has had Epstein–Barr virus (EBV). You know, “the kissing disease.” Turns out a teenage snog-fest or bout of fever might set you up for a lifetime of neurological sabotage. Imagine that: one sweaty house party in 1983 and boom, 40 years later your immune system is gnawing on your spinal cord like it’s an all-you-can-eat buffet.

Rewiring the Brain The human brain is stubborn. When MS burns holes in the circuitry, the brain reroutes signals like a city trying to drive around craters after an air raid. For a while, it works. But eventually, the map falls apart. What was once clever detours becomes a city in ruins, where the traffic lights blink for no one.

Saint of the Falling Sickness The earliest known MS patient was Lidwina of Schiedam, a Dutch woman in the 1300s. She became paralyzed, lost her sight, and suffered relentless relapses. The church, in its usual twisted way, decided this was saint material. So now she’s the Patron Saint of ice skaters and the chronically ill. If sainthood is the consolation prize for decades of agony, no thanks.

Seasons of Relapse MS relapses love spring and summer. While the world bursts with life, your nervous system decides to collapse like a drunk uncle at a barbecue. Some say vitamin D fluctuations, some say infections, but really, MS just has terrible timing.

Life, Shortened MS doesn’t kill you quickly. It’s more like being forced to live with Death as a flatmate. Average life expectancy drops by 7–10 years, but the real torture is the decades spent watching your body betray you bit by bit. Death isn’t the horror here—it’s the endless rehearsal.

The Hug That Suffocates The infamous “MS Hug” sounds comforting, but it’s more like a python crushing your ribs from the inside. Imagine being gripped by an invisible straightjacket made of fire. It’s the worst Hallmark card sentiment ever: “Hugs, from your disease.”

Brain in Shrink-Wrap MS accelerates brain shrinkage, years faster than normal aging. Picture your thoughts, memories, and personality being slowly vacuum-sealed while you’re still alive. It’s not just neurological—it’s existential taxidermy.

MS isn’t neat. It isn’t poetic. It’s a horror show played out in slow motion, starring your nervous system. And yet, here’s the kicker: people keep going. They laugh, they fight, they even blog about it. Because what’s darker than MS itself? The fact that human beings can stare this monster down and keep dragging themselves forward anyway.

I write in ink and fury, in breath and broken bone.
Through storm and silence, I survive. That is the crime and the miracle.

⚠️ Please read with care: This blog shares personal, sometimes painful experiences. My intention is to support and speak honestly not to harm. I’m not a professional, just someone who understands how hard it can get. If you're struggling, you're not alone please reach out for professional help.

So apparently AI has its claws in multiple sclerosis now. Brilliant. Because what I really needed in my life was an algorithm telling me my MRI looks like Swiss cheese.

A systematic review (because academics love that phrase) trawled through PubMed between 2018 and 2022 to find out what happens when you smash together “AI” and “MS” as search terms. Surprise: it spat out hundreds of studies, 70 of which weren’t complete bollocks.

And what did we learn? That AI might actually be good at things our neurologists fail at, like:

Early Diagnosis: AI can see those tiny lesions on MRI scans before a human radiologist has finished their morning coffee. Months, even years, before MS really takes hold. So yes, the machine knows.

Predictive Analytics: Relapses coming up? AI might spot it first. Like a weather app for your nervous system — but one that doesn’t lie about sunshine.

Tailored Treatment: The AI chews your data and spits out which drug cocktail might keep you hobbling along a bit longer. Personalised care, they call it. Algorithmic roulette, I call it.

Remote Management: AI apps logging symptoms, “telemedicine,” symptom trackers… all making it easier to suffer in the comfort of your own home without schlepping to hospital. Welcome to the dystopia of convenience.

For us poor sods in the UK, this means earlier diagnoses, more personalised treatment plans, telehealth for when you can’t face the bus, and even help finding clinical trials (which is code for: experimental guinea-pigging).

But let’s not forget: the machine might be clever, but it doesn’t give a toss. AI won’t hold your hand when your legs go numb or when you’ve just soiled yourself in Tesco. That’s where the real humans still matter. Empathy and swearing at the absurdity of it all — irreplaceable.

Final Thought: AI in MS is like getting a posh new manager in hell: the torture’s the same, but at least it’s efficiently catalogued

Today’s AI doesn’t just want your data, it wants your soul in a spreadsheet. It’s the Watcher in the wires, whispering: You’ll relapse in 6 months, darling, and here’s a neat pie chart to prove it.

I write in ink and fury, in breath and broken bone.
Through storm and silence, I survive. That is the crime and the miracle.