When MS Gives You a Finger, a Second Glance

A multiple sclerosis dummy

 

For those new to my website, and because MS hasn’t been very amusing lately, and since, let’s face it, I’m feeling a little sleepy and lazy this month, I thought I would offer a second glance at this prior post.

I hope it brings you some January giggles!

I know some of you may have read that title and thought I made a grammar mistake.  I’m certainly likely to make a mistake like that as this post will elaborate.

But no, in this case, I did mean “A” finger as opposed to “THE” finger.

But the two may be just a little bit related…

Despite the fact that I find the whole For Dummies series (you know, auto repair for dummies, internet for dummies,) too complicated, I don’t think of myself as a dumb person.

I was valectdictorian of my high school graduating class for crying out loud!

(Did I spell that right? I bet you checked and I bet I didn’t.)

I even graduated from college.   So how can I possibly be dumb?  Receiving a diploma takes years of intense study and concentration, hard work and sleepless nights.  It takes major commitment and dedication. They don’t just give that cap and gown to anyone!

So it’s got to be this stupid illness called multiple sclerosis that makes me do stupid things sometimes.  It has to be. I refuse to accept anything else.

I wrote about this before in one of my first blog posts (Stupid MS,) but the MS stupidity just keeps on a comin and thus, I thought I would share some of it with you.

(Why do this?  It seems like the smart thing to do would be too hide the dumb things that MS makes me do but of course, sometimes MS makes me not so smart.)

For example, one cold winter afternoon I tried to warm up my tea but the cup wouldn’t fit in the microwave oven.  I kept shoving and pushing but the tea just wouldn’t fit.   It took my normally intelligent but MS dumb brain 10 minutes to realize that the problem was that I was trying to shove my tea into the toaster oven as opposed to the microwave.

There was the time I invited people over for dinner and then forgot to make dinner.  I had bought all the ingredients.  And had even pulled them out of the pantry.  But there was no dinner.

(In truth, it was less that I forgot to make dinner than that I forgot how long it would take. My company showed up on time and hungry but I hadn’t even started cooking.  Luckily the company was only my mom and my sister.  My mom took us out instead.)

It wasn’t that long ago that after showering, makeup applying, and blow drying that I then sprayed my hair with Lysol disinfectant instead of hairspray.  Not only are those two cans not even next to each other, they’re not even in the same cabinet!

My hairstyle might not have held but at least it was germ free.

Recently I was waiting for an important conference call and was agitated when it didn’t come in.

I huffed.

I puffed.

I sent an email demanding to know where my call was.  It was as I hit send that I saw that my caller indicated she would call me at 3, California time.

I contemplated that a bit.  I wasn’t in California. I was in Massachusetts.

Perhaps that was the problem?

The return email explained that it was.  Almost three hours had passed while I was trying to figure what time I would actually receive the call when the call came in.

Then there was this little bit of devout, eager beaver, multiple sclerosis brilliance.  Despite my general clumsiness, my MS super clumsiness, my fatigue, and an MS lack of dexterity in my hands, I volunteered to be a Eucharistic minister in my church.  For my nonbelieving friends, this involves holding, carrying and distributing the most holy consecrated bread and wine.

I volunteered because that sounds like a GREAT job for me.

How’s that going to turn out?  Only God knows.

And I mean that literally.

But the latest dumb thing I did may not seem so dumb.   I was in the middle of major spring cleaning that always wipes me out (for more on that particular MS hell check out my prior blog post, Mr. Clean is the Man  for Me,) when I noticed that my kitchen sink was leaking.  I put a call into my landlord who said he would be right by.

When cleaning, I need hardcore music to get me through.  So I was listening to Guns ‘n Roses Use Your Illusion II as I dusted every speck of dust I could possibly find.

Do you know that album?

Do you know the part of the song “My World,” where Axel Rose is trying to talk a girl into sleeping with him?  He says “Let’s Do It,” three times and then the girl starts making intense sex sounds?

Ya, that’s the part of the CD that was playing when my landlord walked into my apartment.

Thank you MS for that humiliating music choice at a time when I was expecting company.

I would like to say that MS left me some brain cells that directed me to turn the music off but that’s not the case.  The music ended by itself.  “My World” is the last song on the CD.

My landlord and I then spent an awkward afternoon while he fixed the sink and I tried to keep cleaning.

Two hours later he declared the sink fixed and left.

I went to get a glass of water and jumped in horror.

In my dishpan, mixed in with some dirty forks and spoons, was a finger!

It creeped me out!

It had to come from my landlord as he was working in the area. But wouldn’t I have heard it if he had cut off his finger?

There wasn’t any blood.

Did my landlord have a fake finger, a dummy finger so to speak?  Was the finger a cosmic payback for the dumb music choice?

I did gather my wits enough to grab a paper towel and throw the thing away.  And when I felt it I realized perhaps it only looked like a finger.  Maybe it was something else.  Maybe it was plumber’s putty shaped in a way that made it look like a finger?

I’m still not sure.  Normally, my rational brain would say yes, that must be what this weird thing is.   But my idiotic MS brain still insists that MS just gave me a finger.

“A” finger, not the, you know, “THE” finger.

 

What’s your hilarious chronic illness story?  Share it with us on the Giggles tab of this very website!