January 21

Hallo again

I am gutted! My very first day's blog has disappeared into thin air. In Tuesdays blog I explained a bit about myself so here goes again.

I'm Selina (Well no I'm not (she explained frankly and confusingly That's not what my parents christened me but they should have or should of as tin common parlnce) It's the name of my granny, and much nicer than mine.

I am an ms sufferer and I want to tell you about my life, and how I cope rather than telling you not to eat chocolate (one of the main causes of ms I read recently), or recommending a daily vitamin intake or going to a healer You can read about these things elsewhere. I'll just tell you what works for me (almost everybody who crosses my path actually .

To help formulate my thoughts, last night I started to watch a programme about diarists . What I really wanted to see was the Samuel Pepys programme but I seem to have deleted that along with the first page of my blog.?

I must just remind those of you who are older about the Benny Hill sketch which consisted of a load of innuendo about maids undressing and showing their milky white breasts (our Gok would be in his element)sung to a jaunty ballad-type song each verse culminating in he line 'Bu-ut naughty Sumuel peeps!

The next programme was about Virginia Woolf who was a great diarist and had an entry about an unsuitable hat! Adrian Mole was quoted as saying said that he was going to write about his life as that way it might seem more interesting. Inspired by Virginia and Adrian I shall continue with my story.

Yesterday morning I had to get up bathed and hair washed in order to go to hospital early for physio. As I was lying in .my delicious bath with loads of hot water, , I recalled .that time in France where I had forced myself to go for a long swim on a cold day in summer ( summer? France​?).The ubiquitous and enthusiast campsite owner (who wanted to practise English as I wanted to practice French, leapt out from behind a bush as I was stuggling back to our pitch with my walking stick and invited me to use the disabled shower . (at least I think she did) (Madame you like to use the room for incapacities?) What bliss! Instead of a concrete floor, lukewarm water and no space swing a cat, I showered in a warm space l with hooks for towels and clothes and delicious hot water. The only thing not provided was the the cat.I hadn't realized how privileged handicapped people were. Now I have lovely hot w\ater every day and a lovely husband dancing attendance..

Said lovely husband took me out to the car half an hour later to go to the hospital only to find or rather not find that his car keys were not in his pocket. It started to rain a bit to add to his grumpiness.. ' I'll just leave you here' he threw over his shoulder, as he escaped into the house leaving me stranded on the drive 'you like the rain dont you? What he doesnt realize is that there is a whole lot of difference between sitting in the conservtory and listening to the rain pattering gently on the roof or being on the croquet lawn fully waterproofed playing your heart out secure in the knowledge that a no=one wants to watch in the rain.

We reached the hospital eventually. I must say I am an ardent advocate of physio even if it is only the white coat effect which enables you to put your best foot forward for the physio,watched by the jaundiced eye of your carer who had no idea you could walk/tranfer/bungay jump so well.
Tomorrow I will explain to you how I come to be spending most of my time in a wheelchair, when I was walking around on crutches in November.