I'm only human after all.

According to the Kübler-Ross model there are five stages of grief. They are denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. This model supposedly applies to any grievance, be it the death of a loved one, the diagnosis of a disease or the breakdown of a relationship. (Although The Script did make quite a catchy song titled Six degrees of Separation about the latter. That said, I'll not let pop music get in the way of actual psychology.)


It's an interesting theory. I'm not sure I fully believe it but I thought I would consider the stages from my perspective. I should point out Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, who first introduced the model, is now dead. I wonder how well her family took her passing?


Denial. I don't think I experienced this. If somebody says, "You're a dick", you can easily deny that. Whether or not it is true is based on opinion. (Unless they mean you quite literally are a penis, in which case they are clearly wrong. If you're in need of a little pick me up today you can take heart from the fact that you are not actually a male reproductive organ.) But if a qualified medical professional, after various tests and scans, says, "You have MS", then you cannot really deny it; you won't like it, or accept it but you will know it's true.


Anger. Yup, I was pretty fucking annoyed about it. I still am. I swapped travelling around the world to moving around the hospital. I don't think the anger will ever go, I've just got better at handling it.


Bargaining. I'm pretty stubborn. To begin with I just tried carrying on as usual but it was obvious that some compromise was needed. (At about the time I fell over whilst running because I have the balance of a blindfolded monkey sat on a beach ball.) I still try and compromise with MS now; "If I could just walk properly I'd accept the other issues", "If the tremors were fixed I'd get on with life". Sadly the disease doesn't compromise, I could be (and frankly I am) the most reasonable, easy-going person in the world and MS still wouldn't give an inch. The bastard.


Depression. God yes. A lot of people think of me as quite a positive person. And I am, for the most part. But I get down, of course I do. I try and make my blogs as upbeat and humorous as possible. (Yes, this blog genuinely is my best attempts at humour. Sympathy laughter is absolutely welcome.) But I had MS for well over a year before I even started blogging. What did I do for most of that time? Cried. And sulked. And became hugely bitter and resentful. I was very good at hiding this in public and I'm happy to say it's not how I feel anymore. I still get upset occasionally, I'm only human after all. (I think a lot of people forget this because of my many superhuman qualities I have. Like how good looking I am, and how funny I am, and how modest I am...)


Acceptance. I'm beginning to do something I never thought I would: I'm beginning to accept that I have MS. I have known it for nearly three years now but knowing and accepting are a world apart. I stress beginning because I think this acceptance will take years. I won't fully accept it until I am happy; I will never be anything but upset about having it but one day I will be happy despite having it. Like football: I'm very happy the sport exists despite the fact Sunderland are useless most of the time.


I arrived at a conclusion last week: I have disabilities but I am not disabled. This feels quite empowering to me. I am not my disabilities: I am me and I have these disabilities. In the same way that I have amazing curly hair, a remarkably attractive face and a tongue in cheek sense of humour to rival that of anyone. (The remarkably attractive face comment wasn't tongue in cheek by the way, I'm just really good looking.)


I think the Kübler-Ross model is just psychologist talk for 'deal with it'.Bad things happen and we just have to make the most of what we've got. 'Play the hand you're dealt' is a saying I use quite often and that is easier for all of us than it is for so many in this world who are battling things far more evil than MS.

The noisy days are over.

(The title is a track name by the fantastic Field Music. They're a pair of brothers from Sunderland who have done good. Check them out if you haven't already.)


Fear (Rejoice?) not, I haven't actually been marooned on a desert island. I've been growing up. Well, trying to at least. Since my last blog I've done loads of adult activities. (Sadly that is not a euphemism.) I've worn a suit, been to the cinema by myself and even started listening to BBC Radio 6 Music.


It hasn't all been too grown up though. I fell over in the cinema (not cool when you're there by yourself already), I switch across to BBC Radio 1 whenever I'm in need of some silly ramblings and my dad had to button up my shirt. And tie my tie. And my shoelaces. I looked good though!


Hopefully requiring someone to dress me will soon be a thing of the past: I have a new date for the DBS. I'm starting to learn a bit more about the procedure as well. On April 4th a doctor is going to drill through my skull and put in some electrodes about 15cm deep in my brain. (I'm happy to start a sweepstake on what they'll find once they're through my skull. My £1 is going on a community of tiny koala bears who are thoroughly frustrated at being trapped inside the head of an idiot.) Wires then run down the inside of my neck to a battery in my chest. I'll be like Ironman without the metal suit. And I won't be able to fly. But hopefully I will be able to tie my own shoelaces.


Why the suit anyway? I had a meeting with a lady to discuss getting back into work! She is quite an important lady for quite an important business so I was very lucky to get the opportunity to speak to her. (My huge thanks to Patrick and Gillian!) We talked about what sort of work I am interested in and how the business she works for may be able to help. It went really well, I remained sensible throughout* and I'm really hopeful a job may come from it sometime this year.


That's what I've been up to this year. 2017 will not disappoint! ('The noisy days' in the song is I think in reference to a more carefree yesteryear. In my case it is screaming everytime I try to put a spoonful of food in my mouth and spread it all across my face.)


*Well, as sensible as could be expected. At one point I said I had a hip flask in my jacket if she wanted a drink, at another I insinuated I'd be more comfortable if I were naked and at the end I had a bit of a flirt with the receptionists. Other than that I absolutely nailed it.