Here’s the deal as I see it: Multiple Sclerosis is a soul-sucking succubus that drains my energy, my vitality, my sex drive, my coordination, my self-esteem and my wallet. All in no particular order.
First of all, please understand that fatigue is not the same as being tired. It’s not the same as being out of shape or lazy. It is something totally different. I didn’t understand that before all this happened to me, but let me tell you…. Fatigue sucks. I liken it to Scarlett O’Hara pulling that horse and wagon through the mud while it carried Miss Melly and Prissy and Pork and whoever else. Only pulling it up hill. On a road made of fresh salt water taffy. Towing a disgruntled rhinoceros. This is hyperbole only in the most tame of definitions.
When fatigued, the littlest most innocuous tasks become exhausting. A “good night’s sleep” does not preclude me from needing a solid two hour nap about an hour after I arrive at work. Or, while I’m on the train heading in to work. Or while I’m at work doing a task of great importance. Or, you know, talking to a colleague. Or my husband. Or while, in last night’s exciting example, seated in front of a live band playing REALLY LOUD AWESOME MUSIC. They were truly great, and I hope they didn’t notice my cartoonishly repressed yawns. I just couldn’t stop trying to figure a nonchalant way to slide under the table and stretch out between the feet of the others in the live audience. This is how I felt:
I did get home without humiliating myself, but next time you see me, if you catch me in the world’s biggest yawn like this guy at 47 seconds, just avert your eyes. It’s only my MS.