13 December 2010

Sometimes things happen that just take you aback, and more often when they involve the untimely demise of a hero.

The first such occasion was when I saw Tommy Cooper die during a television programme. It was the first time I realised that my heroes won’t live forever.

The most recent was on Friday. Ever since I watched the documentary “Here’s Johnny”, I have been on a quest to find the wonderful image he had drawn, a parody of “The ascent of man”. Oh, sorry, ‘he’ was the subject of the documentary, Johnny Hicklenton, a graphic artist (iter alia Judge Dredd) who was diagnosed with MS.

He had primary progressive MS, so was much more profoundly affected than I am, but he felt like a fellow ‘sufferer’ (don’t you just hate those terms – you don’t suffer from MS; it isn’t easy to live with, but it’s not exactly suffering), someone I could relate to, as well as admire (for his remarkable artistic talent).

So, anyway, I had been searching for the image I had seen ever since, without success. In the end I created my own version, which now proudly hangs on my living room wall. But I’ve not forgotten the origin, and on Friday decided to see if I could find the documentary, so that I could watch it again.

In my renewed search, I discovered that Johnny Hicklenton died at the Dignitas clinic in Switzerland on 19 March 2010. In a sense, I wasn’t surprised. MS isn’t a fatal condition, just sometimes you wish it was.

It left me in the awkward position of wanting to talk about it, but not wanting to. My sons have both watched my MS change my life, but I think (I hope) that I’ve mostly seemed pretty upbeat about it. Now I fear that the juxtaposition of MS with someone travelling to Dignitas may have set a train running in the mind of one of my sons.

I have no plans to cash in my chips any time soon, and I would tell the people I love, and who love me, before I made any such decision in any case. To be honest, I don’t think it will get to that point (ever the optimist) and I’d hate to think that my kids are continually looking for signs that I may be preparing to top myself.

Death holds no fear for me, but I have no desire to hurry it along either.

7 December 2010

Why oh why oh why am I such a wuss about my MS?

I suspect this is beginning to sound like a scratched record in the sense that I keep writing about people’s kindness on the train. But this is a little different.
Today two very kind men, separately, asked me if I needed a seat on the train. It was full, and it went non-stop to my destination. Both of them were standing and were, I presume, quite prepared to ask the seated passengers to let me sit.

But I, in my stupid unwillingness to admit to needing help, thanked them very much, but said that I would be fine. Why did I do that? I have no issue with accepting an offer from someone who is already seated.

I guess others would say I need to grow a backbone, ask for a seat myself when one isn’t available. I would have had no issue in doing that for someone else. Perhaps it’s tied into me still struggling with my disability. I can stand, I did stand. But it sapped my energy. The train companies all provide sins over seats “please give up this seat to someone ...”.

I have always been strong, the person who does what needs to be done. Now I need to step up and assert myself as I do in other aspects of my life.

So this evening, I was determined to say something. I had steeled myself. But bugger me if some thoughtful man didn't offer me his seat.

Sometimes I just can't win.