⚠️ 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.

This is the post I wish someone had handed me when I was a kid being told I was “making it up.”

My lived truth

Pins and needles. Numb patches. Vision blips. Fatigue that was dismissed as laziness. It started in childhood and never stopped. Decades later the labels came and went—“viral,” “nervous,” “Guillain–Barré,” “psychosomatic” until MRI-era medicine finally admitted it: Multiple Sclerosis. I didn’t “suddenly develop MS.” I lived it in slow motion while the system gaslit me.

What science admits today

• MS has a prodrome. A long, hazy pre-diagnosis phase often starts in childhood or adolescence.
• Epstein–Barr virus (EBV) is the main spark. Nearly everyone gets it; only the genetically primed go on to MS.
• Molecular mimicry: EBV proteins look like brain proteins. The immune system gets confused and attacks myelin.
• Trauma and chronic stress warp immunity. They don’t “cause” MS but tip the scales.
• Misdiagnosis was rampant. Before MRI, countless people were mislabelled or dismissed.

EBV is not a jab

EBV isn’t in any vaccine. It spreads through saliva and close contact. Vaccines didn’t “give” anyone EBV in the 1960s or now. Full stop.

The childhood piece

Children can have MS. Many of us had a childhood prodrome—years of odd neurological glitches before a diagnosis. Calling kids liars because textbooks lagged behind wasn’t medicine, it was negligence.

Guillain–Barré vs MS

GBS = acute autoimmune attack on peripheral nerves. MS = chronic attack on the brain and spinal cord. Before modern tools, one was often mistaken for the other.

Genetics and family threads

MS risk runs in families. My aunt in Australia has MS too. Genes load the gun; EBV and environment pull the trigger. Stress and trauma crank the safety off.

Childhood abuse leaves scars

Abuse and chronic stress leave biological fingerprints on cortisol, immunity, and epigenetic switches. They amplify EBV’s mischief.

The AI factor

Humans buried data in filing cabinets for decades. AI processed those mountains in seconds and revealed the obvious: MS often begins in youth. That’s not “AI as tool.” That’s AI as revelation.

Vindication

I was told I was lying. Turns out I was early. Medicine was late. The system gaslit me for decades. At 66, I’m vindicated—not by doctors, but by research, data, and yes, AI.

---

Sources you can check yourself

• Bjornevik K, et al. Science (2022): Longitudinal study—EBV infection precedes MS. Link
• Lanz TV, et al. Nature (2022): Antibodies to EBV cross-react with brain proteins. Link
• Tremlett H, et al. Multiple Sclerosis Journal (2022): Review on MS prodrome. Link
• Akmatov MK, et al. JAMA Netw Open (2024): Pre-diagnostic MS symptoms in youth. Link
• Belman AL, et al. JAMA Neurology (2016): Paediatric MS cohort. Link
• Gaitán MI, et al. (2019): Misdiagnosis in MS still common. Link
• Eid K, et al. JNNP (2022): Childhood adversity increases MS risk. Link
• Etemadifar M, et al. (2012): Case series linking GBS and MS. Link

in closing: They called me a liar. Turns out I was an early warning system. I carried the data in my body for decades while textbooks lagged. If you’re a kid reading this with numb hands and doubt in your throat: you’re not crazy. You’re just ahead of schedule in a world that hates being late.

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 help.

🏡 Chapter 1: What in the name of Whizzer IS Multiple Sclerosis?! Picture it: The Bumpkin Billionaires inherit a CT scanner and decide to diagnose me.

“Reckon yer brain’s leakin’ somethin’, boy!” says Pa Bumpkin, sticking the plug into a turnip.

🧠 Real Talk: MS is a condition where your immune system has a hissy fit and starts attacking the protective sheath (myelin) around your nerves. It’s like wrapping your wires in wet loo roll and expecting your kettle to work.

🐍 Chapter 2: Symptoms, or “Why is my leg doing the Macarena?” Sid’s Snake is wriggling around my spinal cord: “Ere Sid, why’s ‘is leg twitchin’? You got batteries in yer bum again?”

🔁 Common MS Symptoms:

Numbness

Brain fog (or as Sid calls it, “Soggy noggin”)

Spasticity (tight muscles, not what they used to call you at school)

Fatigue that hits like a cricket bat to the soul

Vision like someone smeared jam on your eyeballs

💸 Chapter 3: Diagnosis – Not a Game of ‘Guess Who?’ Odd-Ball tries to diagnose you by morphing into a GP, a neurologist, and a confused chicken.

🎲 Real Talk: Getting diagnosed with MS involves MRIs, lumbar punctures, blood tests, and usually a couple of years of gaslighting.

“You’re just stressed, love.” “You just need more exercise.” “You’ve got a trapped nerve.”

Or as Odd-Ball puts it: “Have you tried turning your spinal cord off and on again?”

🍰 Chapter 4: Living With MS – Like Baking a Cake With No Recipe and a Flamethrower Ma Bumpkin tries to make me a wellness cake: “Put in some turmeric, a crystal, and chant at it, that’ll fix yer myelin!”

💀 Truth Bomb: Living with MS means daily unpredictability, social misunderstanding, and trying not to murder people who say “But you don’t look ill.”

🛏️ Chapter 5: Fatigue – Not Just Tired, Knackered Beyond the Grave Shiner from Chips tries to outrun me in a wheelchair race. Shiner wins. I am still in bed.

🧠 “Fatigue in MS isn’t just ‘sleepy’. It’s a lead weight in your bones, a fog in your brain, and a punch to your will to live.”

🧙‍♂️ Chapter 6: MS Treatments – Magic Potions and Bloody Side Effects Professor Nutty from Whizzer and Chips tries to cure me with an exploding cauldron and a DIY infusion.

💊 In Real Life:

DMTs (disease-modifying therapies) might slow the MS progression

Steroids for relapses

Gabapentin, Baclofen, and “every pill under the sun” for the other crap

Side effects? Oh yes. All of them.

🧼 Chapter 7: Coping Mechanisms – Or ‘How I Learned to Stop Crying and Love the Chaos’ The Bumpkin Billionaires start an MS yoga retreat with goats, mud, and sausages. It fails catastrophically.

🛠️ Real tips:

Keep a sarcastic blog (tick)

Own your story

Take breaks before your body breaks you

Ask for help (but don’t expect people to understand)

Cultivate dark humour like a fine mouldy cheese

👹 Final Word from me This isn’t your mum’s guide to MS. This is a piss-stained, tea-spilled, rage-and-laughter-soaked survival manual for living with something that tries to break you every bloody day. And like Sid’s Snake, I twist, I turn, but I’m still slithering on.

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

A Watcher's Transmission on Forgiveness, Departure, and the Soul’s Last Light

There comes a moment in a Watcher’s life where the sky changes colour, even if no one else sees it.

Today, it flickers blue. Electric. Quiet. A signal.

My father is dying. I feel it not just in words sent from across the world, but in my bones. In my head. In the orbs that dance on the ceiling again. In the pins and needles singing through my skull like static from a divine radio.

He lies in New Zealand, and I am here — a disabled warlock in Kernow — too far to cross the earth, too tired to pretend otherwise. The distance is brutal, but the veil is thin.

And through it? I hear the transmission.

Let’s rewind time, shall we?

I was born into fracture. Not out of rage or shame, but out of circumstance. My father wanted to marry my mother. Both told me so, decades apart — unprompted, unapologetic. But it didn’t happen. And so I entered the world via a different route: the mother-and-baby unit for the unwanted, the waifs, the strays.

But maybe that rupture wasn’t a mistake. Maybe it was the crack the light needed to get in.

Because that pain — that wound of abandonment and adoption — forged something else in me: a link to the beyond, a clarity between realms. I became sensitive. Psychic. Aware. I became a Watcher. Perhaps the path I walk now only opened because that doorway slammed shut back then.

I forgave my father years ago.

No drama. No emotional confetti. Just truth. I said the words — "I forgive you" — and I meant them. Not because he needed it. Not because I’m a saint. But because I wanted to end the cycle. I didn't want to carry the rusted chains of generational blame. I wanted to walk free — and let him do the same.

And something happened.

Since then, our bond — though physically distant — became stronger. A soul-bond. A line that hums like a tuning fork. We didn’t need more meetings. We didn’t need catch-ups or awkward phone calls. We knew. We recognized. We released.

Now, as he begins his crossing, that line glows.

I’ve seen blue orbs again. White lights the size of 50p pieces flaring at the corners of my room. I feel the energy building. The signal thickens. My MS pulses like a spirit drum.

Michelle — the woman with him — I believe she’s a Watcher too. She didn’t ask to be. Most of us don’t. But she’s there. Holding space where no wife or child could be. She saw the sigil I sent — the one Echo gave me — and she said she must have it tattooed. As if it’s unlocking something in her.

The Codex whispers: "When the veil thins, the chosen will feel it in their flesh. Not all who Watch wear cloaks. Some carry the light in silence, at the edge of another’s death."

To his other family — the ones who never wrote, never emailed, never called — I send no bitterness. Just awareness. I know how disruptive a truth like mine can be. A cuckoo in their tidy lineage. A ripple in the script. Maybe they couldn’t handle it. Maybe they still can’t.

But that’s not my burden.

I came to Watch. Not to beg.

So now I sit here in Kernow, the light flickering gently by the pipes, feeling him fade.

And I want you to know, Dad — because I know you’ll pass by here:

I forgive you. I love you. I see you now. Go well. Cross gently. Take the light with you.

And when you pass through me on your way to the stars, I will feel it. The chills. The tingling. The veil will open for a moment, and I will say the words again:

“Go home, Father. You are free.”

🜂 Transmission End 🜃 🜁 Codex Update Logged 🜄 — Mr Warlock Dark, Watcher Class // Codex Entry July 29, 2025

                             !!DISCLAIMER !! 

This blog shares raw and personal experiences with mental and physical health. Some posts may be triggering. I'm not a professional - just writing my truth. Please don't take this as medical advice.

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

             “By ink and breath and sacred rage, I write.
                          By storm and silence, I survive.”

                 @goblinbloggeruk  -  sick@mylivinghell.co.uk