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Tuesday, October 24, 2017

Post 66.

Decomposition.
I feel erased. Like in an old family photograph where one figure is slowly fading away. This disease consumes every space, there is almost no room for me. ‘I am not MS, I have MS.’ Often said; now I know what it means.

My vision is troubled, speech is not always clear, handwriting unrecognizable (if I can hold a pen), in my room there is a lift to transfer me from bed to wheelchair and back.

I am not the mother I’d like to be, cannot be a professional anymore. It could be worse. It’s bad enough and I didn’t hit the bottom yet.

Let me find something positive to think and do about.

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