Turn It Off, Then On Again

There’s always something!

As a columnist, that comes in handy, as then I don’t have to think too much.

Stop snickering at the back for thinking that I never think. How very dare you?

If any of my fellow Brits are reading this, yes, I’m liberally nicking comedy catchphrases. Why not? (You’d really have to be a deep aficionado of alternative comedy to get that one!)

I’ve spent a lifetime accruing them, and it cheers me up to use them. You lucky people!

OK, enough.

Yesterday, good news was tempered by bad news. Is there such a thing as neutral karma?

It had been a good day. My physiotherapist had called last week when things were still pretty bad. She returned to see if my recent exercise program already needed changing.

She was pleased to find that I had pretty much returned to the baseline she’d observed about a month ago. Hurrah! I now have official support to use my Molift, and at least I can do a standing transfer and partially support myself. This is all very exciting.

”Look at me, Ma, I’m on top of the world!” (Photo by Jane Davies)

In the past few days, I’ve recovered a lot. But there’s obviously still a bit of the ol’ relapsing-remitting MS in this bowwow yet.

Recently, I started writing my column the day before my Wednesday deadline. Previous to “that which can’t be named,” I was working every Tuesday. Our world was struck down, and MS floored me. I was diagnosed with the disease in 2009, so I seem to be some sort of MS disaster vane!

Now, I have carers coming at 11 a.m., five days a week. So, my mornings are gone. Yes, I could have them in earlier, but I’ve spent my entire working life endeavoring to sleep in. I’m not going to change if I’m actually paying for it. Which at least proves I’m no sadomasochist!

So why did Tuesday become a bad day?

The electronic control thang (I believe the official name in the U.K. is “remote”) on my power wheelchair went so much up the swanny it turned into a dead duck! Too much?

As my wife wryly put it, “You’ve got some mobility back, and then it was taken away!” Everyone’s a comedian — at least in our house.

I spent hours trying to fix the thing, endlessly exploring the internet to discover what the flashing error codes actually meant. All of it seems to be so secretive that I’d need to work at GHCQ to break them!

I really should have spent those hours writing.

Yesterday, a repairman really asked me over the phone if I’d turned it off, then on again. He couldn’t work out what the codes were, either.

This morning, another turned up and said the batteries were dead, even though they show a full charge.

Confused — moi? (That one’s me own write-phrase!)

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