95%

Once more, my apologies that the blog posts have been a bit intermittent thus far this year. Apologies also that this year’s posts, such as they are, have been little more than the ‘Guillain–Barré Diaries.’ This trend will continue for today’s entry and then I’ll try to give it (and you) a rest.

I feel these posts may be useful to me in years to come if the gods spare me. Who knows, they may also be of some minor use to someone who will walk, or shuffle, the same path as me.

As the title suggests, I would now rate myself as 95% recovered. Not everyone may necessarily agree with my assessment. It has been a (mostly) unrelenting wave of personal positivity that has at least helped to carry me this far this quickly. So why stop now? In the spirit of ‘Fake It Til You Make It,’ I am at 95% and there I shall stay, at least until I hit 96%.

So what does that mean, in actual terms? In my slightly biased view, it means I can now present a front to the world which is convincingly well. I can present myself so that a person meeting me might say, “I thought you were sick,” which is quite satisfying. I can walk pretty darn well, so long as I focus a little on it. I can climb stairs until the cows come home… a time when it is often necessary to climb stairs. I can walk to work and work all day and walk home again. I can tie my shoelaces and button my shirt in a manner that no longer draws sympathetic attention. In a recent examination, the reflexes which were markedly absent are mostly back and the huge tuning fork, which previously brought zero results from many corners of my frame, now vibrates joyfully through my bones. In a dodgy moment on a road the other day, I picked up speed to get out of the way of a car that was bearing down on me and a passer-by remarked, “you’re running now!” and I replied, “only when some fucker tries to run me down.”

So, yes, I’m back. 95% worth.

So, what of that other 5%? What does that constitute?

Mostly, it’s the darned tingles. That’s what they’re called, it seems, although I personally think it’s too small a word. Until I learned the word ‘tingle’ I referred it the sensations as ‘buzzing’ or ‘pins and needles,’ neither of which was quite right. ‘Tingle’ is good but it does need that capital letter out front, to add at least a bit of oomph to it. For it is no small thing. As I sit and type, and 24/7, my hands and feet tingle constantly. Finger tips are highly sensitive to touch, creating an electric shock effect every time I touch the keyboard. This has been a constant since the early onset of the syndrome and it currently (currently, get it?) shows little sign of easing. That is okay. I know it will abate over the coming months as the Myelin Sheath that ‘insulates’ my nerves slowly rebuilds itself. Until then, I have grown accustomed to the tingle and can work around it and with it pretty well. I’m typing away good-oh at the moment and the tingle is the tingle. I hear that it fades away, rather like a light being very slowly turned down, until it is one day gone. Or not. Some people of my age group may be left with a residual tingle. I’ll live with that if that’s how it pans out. I’ll consider myself lucky.

I believe that there are things you can consider taking, to ease the tingling. But my understanding is that it is better for me to get as much sensory input as possible, rather than dulling anything down. For some people, their own personal tingling might simply be too much to bear and drugs will be required. Again, lucky me, I can get by with my level of tingle and so I do.

Without diving too deep in this bit, feelings are at 95% too. 95% of the time I feel so lucky that I was in a position to recover as quickly and as well as I have. Others have needed much, much longer. And, let's be clear, my good fortune here has not been due to strength or wisdom or good looks on my part. It has been 95% luck, pure and simple. If I’d been worse, as other people often are, I would still be in my chair. So, if you ever end up there, it’s not a competition. Just keep doing everything you can to get better, for that was the other 5% that got me here, and that’s all that you can do.

As for the other 5%, feelings wise. Well, I sometimes think about how I was on the 14^th of January and how I am now. Now I am a man who can walk well, so long as I focus. I can work hard, so long as I know I will be very tired afterward. I can type, so long as the tingle remains my friend. Because sometimes, late in the evening, it is not my very best friend. It’s more like a slightly irritating schoolmate, who turns up late to the reunion, and only wants to talk about how terrible you were at sports.

95% of the time, though, I walk out in my town and I see Spring coming to the trees on the Mall and I know I wasn’t expecting to see that this year. I revel in my new-found strength, in walking and in general resolve, and I look forward to all the good things to come, now that I know I can handle a little bit of the bad.

That last part sounds a bit like a creed…

Normal service will now resume in these-here parts.

The cat is up to all sorts… you need to be told.

K  x