Do you know how much I hate that? Am I the only one? It pees me off hugely when you call me brave, I’m not brave, I’m a putter-upper so I need to rant.  What’s brave about not being able to get myself out of bed? I don’t want to be showered by somebody else! There’s no bravery in not being able to take myself to the toilet, or clean myself.  Somebody has to do that for me, I hate it, it’s not brave; there’s nothing brave about it.  I can’t do it for myself and I didn’t volunteer for this.  If I had said “Okay, you can give me MS, I’ll cope with it; I’m brave enough to take it” then you could label me as brave.  As an MS warrior I’ve brought up two daughters, I look after four adorable grandchildren but it hasn’t taken away my anger; my fury at having this shitty disease.  I’m lucky, I’ve got great carers and I know life could be worse, but I hate the fact that I have to have carers. When I was seventeen years old I could never have imagined that my life would plan out like this.  I’ve got a great husband, but he didn’t sign up for this either.

I am still a woman who cares about her appearance, I want to go to a hair salon and I want to wear nice clothes.  I have good skin and I do not look the age I am.  I love cruising to warm places, I’m dying to visit Nashville; I’m a huge Country music fan and this trip is on my bucket list.  I like most American things to be honest.  This proves that even though I’m a wheelchair user and MS warrior, I still want to do all the things that you do (assuming you are able bodied).  This doesn’t make me brave, please don’t call me that.