It’s 3:15 p.m. U.K. time on Wednesday, May 9, 2018. My deadline for this column is actually 3 p.m. Gone are the days of blaming the dog for eating my homework; it’s only in the last few minutes that I’ve actually been able to move a bit.
From 8:30 a.m. to just about now, I’ve been clinging onto my bedside commode, well aware that if I dropped anything on the floor, it would be lost to me. The lava game of youth is made real in my old age with MS. Even when feeling moderately together, my hands will drop anything, so this was a major effort!
The jeopardy is real, as I’m alone in the house because my wife’s mother is very ill in hospital. My wife, Jane, is on the morning hospital shift. She helped me out of bed and I sat comatose while waiting for my body to recover. Too much work!
My live topical show had its second yearly outing on Sunday, at a mini-comedy festival in the countryside 40 miles from London. I also had my regular weekly show in London last night. I went and directed them both. And now I’m paying for it. I’ve never been one who got into fights, but you do have to be tenacious to survive in show business. I will lose against MS but I’m going down swinging.
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