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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, and use AI to proof read and help solve this issue so you can understand it **
The Finger Lives! Unfortunately, So Does the 70-Mile Round trip Home
Well, a very good morning, good afternoon or good evening to whoever happens to be reading this blog, wherever you are in the world.
Humanoid, non-human intelligence, confused extraterrestrial, government surveillance operative or somebody who simply clicked the wrong bloody link...
Welcome.
It has been quite a day.
In fact, it has been quite a week in my little corner of reality.
The Continuing Adventures of Albertine's Finger
First, an update on Albertine's finger.
As you may remember, she cut the bloody thing off.
Not nearly cut it off.
Not gave it a nasty little nick while chopping an onion.
No.
She went for the deluxe package.
Fortunately, the rather clever people at the hospital sewed it back on.
Unfortunately, after all that excitement, she developed a pressure sore on the finger where it had been bound and boarded up.
And yes — pressure sore.
Not "precious saw", as my speech-to-text system originally decided.
Apparently my computer thought this story needed an enchanted woodworking tool.
It didn't.
The finger has already provided quite enough entertainment.
The Great Hospital Expedition
This morning we left home at approximately quarter past seven for Albertine's 8:30 appointment.
This was necessary because getting a parking space at a hospital seems to require military planning, satellite reconnaissance and possibly divine intervention.
Arrive at a sensible time?
Don't be ridiculous.
The car park will already resemble the evacuation of a major European city.
So off we went at stupid o'clock.
And then something deeply suspicious happened.
Every traffic light was green.
All the way there.
I don't trust this sort of thing.
When the universe suddenly starts being helpful, I immediately assume it's distracting me while something else prepares to explode.
But no.
We arrived safely.
We found somewhere to park.
And then...
Albertine was actually seen five minutes early.
At a hospital.
Five.
Minutes.
Early.
At this point I began looking around for horsemen of the apocalypse because clearly the normal laws governing space and time had temporarily been suspended.
A Quick Word About Driving and Medication
Because I knew I had to drive today, yesterday I didn't take any of the medication that could affect my ability to drive, in accordance with the medication guidance.
I wanted to make absolutely certain I was safe and okay to drive.
And actually, despite the traffic and inevitable hold-ups, the drive wasn't too bad.
Which brings us to the important bit.
THE FINGER LIVES!
The plastics team examined Albertine's finger and gave us some genuinely brilliant news.
It has made an amazing recovery.
Better still...
It will NOT need to be amputated.
That was bloody wonderful to hear.
The pressure sore that had developed is also sorting itself out and they weren't concerned about it.
So, after everything that has happened, the finger has apparently decided it quite likes being attached to Albertine and intends to remain there.
Excellent decision.
There is still a little bit missing from the very tip and about an inch further down there is...
No.
We're not discussing that.
Absolutely not.
There are certain things my brain does not need to visualise.
My imagination is already far too efficient at producing nightmare fuel without being given additional source material.
Let's just say:
Finger attached.
Finger recovering.
Albertine happy.
Warlock Dark not looking too closely.
Everybody wins.
And Then MS Sent Me the Bill
Of course, getting there and back meant roughly a 70-mile round trip.
About two hours of driving altogether.
And now I'm home...
I can feel the invoice arriving.
The brain fog is beginning to creep in.
My neck is starting to feel decidedly strange.
The energy reserves are disappearing.
Somewhere inside my nervous system a tiny bureaucrat has apparently looked at today's activities and announced:
"Excuse me, sir. You appear to have exceeded your permitted allocation of functioning like a normal human being."
And here comes the penalty.
MS: because apparently driving a car for two hours counts as an extreme sport.
Still...
It wasn't anywhere near as bad as the last time I drove.
And I've been told that the more driving I manage, the easier and more familiar it should become.
From today's experience, I have to agree.
So that's actually another little victory.
I'll take those wherever I can bloody find them.
That's Enough Humaning for One Day
I'm going to keep this one relatively short because my brain has now started quietly packing its belongings.
Soon it will put an "OUT OF OFFICE" sign on my forehead and disappear somewhere behind my left ear until further notice.
But today was a good day.
Albertine's finger survives.
No amputation.
The pressure sore is improving.
I managed the 70-mile hospital expedition.
The van behaved.
The traffic lights apparently worshipped us.
And we even found a hospital parking space.
Frankly, that's enough miracles for one Friday.
So, to everybody reading this blog...
Humanoid.
Non-human intelligence.
Extraterrestrial.
Interdimensional lurker.
AI wondering why the hell it has been asked to proofread another story involving severed fingers and Multiple Sclerosis.
Or whoever — or whatever — you may be...
I send you all peace, healing, love and light.
May you have a truly magnificent weekend when it finally arrives on your doorstep.
And remember:
Sometimes success isn't climbing a mountain.
Sometimes success is simply getting home after a 70-mile hospital trip with your passenger still possessing roughly the same number of fingers she started the day with.
I'll take that.
Peace, healing, love and light to you all.
Warlock Dark
Written by Warlock Dark. Edited by Brain Fog. Sabotaged by Technology. Approved by one surprisingly resilient finger.
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.)
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