These days, it’s more “often wonder” than “sometimes wonder,” as it seems to happen more and more frequently. Sometimes I remember the infraction, but often enough I do not. Today I am sporting a goose egg in the middle of my forehead — I ran into the fan bonnet above the hob on Saturday; a deepening bruise on my thigh, where I ran into the corner of the bed in the dark last night; and a bloodied toe that I can’t remember stubbing for the life of me. The number of scratches, scrapes, and scuffs of which I’ve no recollection, along with minor lacerations here and there, would be troubling to someone not accustomed to the banging about that is multiple sclerosis (MS). If the local busybody were to see me getting into the pool, my wife might get a visit from a social worker concerned about abuse. I’m that beat-up sometimes.
It’s the Injuries I Don’t Remember That Bother Me
If scars are the fingerprints of history, then I must have lived some life so far. The clumsy stuff doesn’t bother me much anymore. I stumble a lot, I fall sometimes. I drop objects of varying weights on my feet and toes on a regular basis. I’ve bumped into, slid into, and run into just about every fixed object in my house and most of them in the neighborhood. I’ve come to accept these collisions as part of my life with MS. It’s the “where did that come from?” evidences of trauma that still surprise me. The bloodied toe of today, for example. I’ve no recollection of any unscheduled meetup between my extreme lower phalanges and a hard surface in the past 12 to 24 hours. Though it bled enough to stain the bedsheets, I still can’t feel any particular discomfort.
The Effects of MS Likely Added Up to a Stubbed Toe
That it’s the little piggy on my left (more affected) side leads me to believe that the combination of numbness, along with MS-induced deep sleep, a good few times letting out the dog as a thundering storm kept her awake last night, and my own trips to answer a spastic bladder led me to a dark-of-night stubbing of the toe that didn’t register through my damaged neural network. I was probably too groggy to even note the sudden stoppage of my leg when the toe met the immovable.
I Make Light of It, but It’s a Serious Business
I make light of the condition my condition is in, but it’s not always funny for us. I’ve had proper cuts and burns to go alongside the comical stabs my gums have received from my spastic, toothbrush-wielding hands. I’ve come close to serious damage on more than one fall. Many of us have, and while I try to look on the sunny side of this life, it is important to take note of increasing levels of this silent, self-inflicted (if unintended) harm. The toe isn’t broken — we’ve enough first aid training in our house to know major from minor. The point I suppose I’m trying to make is that our flailing limbs, numbed parts, and inability to always get out of the way of moving missile hazards are yet more things we should all make ourselves aware of. It’s a comical turn of a phrase to say, “Well, you should see the other guy … ” in response to a questioning look. But the truth is that I didn’t even see the punches coming. Wishing you and your family the best of health. Cheers, Trevis
