Bath, Bathford and Beyond!

As a surprise for my birthday, my lovely husband Alex took me to Bath, the Roman town with a lot to offer. I was a bit concerned there would be a lot of walking, so we took my portable wheelchair just in case. We arrived at our lovely B&B (and I mean seriously lovely), and had a tasty dinner in the pub nearby.

The next day we went to the Roman Baths, with the wheelchair ready to be unpacked. Alex was setting it up when we realised we had forgotten the foot supports, rendering the wheelchair almost useless. We were gutted to say the least. All the planning we had done – triple checking medication, packing way more socks than needed – seemed to fall apart around us. It may seem like a small thing, but that wheelchair opens so many doors for us

Luckily, the amazing people at the Baths were on hand. Before we knew it, they had produced a working wheelchair and took ours for safekeeping behind reception. I was more than impressed I have to say. The Bath museum was fully accessible with lifts and ramps here, there and everywhere. The only part of the Baths that wasn’t too comfortable were the actual Baths themselves. We even had a staff member apologise for the Romans, who didn’t really consider disability almost 2000 years ago. I let that one go, but made a mental note to be annoyed at the ancient Romans later.

Things like that can really make or break a trip, but only if you let it. When we realised we weren’t as prepared as we thought, it got us both down quite a bit. But only for a moment really. As is often the case with MS, you don’t quite know what’s going to happen. We did laugh about it in the end, but it took a bit of time!

After the Baths we went to The Pump House next door, enjoyed a coffee, and even an awkward happy birthday song from the staff. The cake they brought made up for the singing. We went back to our B&B (I had a lovely nap), and then went out again for some lovely Italian fare. They also brought me a rushed candle stuffed into some chocolate gelato (which was very nice I have to admit).

These trips really are about taking the rough with the smooth. OK we forgot some vital equipment, but the kindness of strangers saved the day. It’s funny how it’s so much easier to focus on the bad things. Good things can fade away into a haze of annoyance. Basically, you have two choices: Stay in the haze, or fight your way out. We chose the latter and the trip was so much better for it. Would definitely recommend!   

Am I allowed to laugh at this…?

I have always had an odd sense of humour. The terrible (sometimes inappropriate, sometimes sweary) humour that has become second nature to me can offend even the most solid of personalities.

When I was diagnosed with MS I assumed my sense of humour would stop. Completely. What was the point in joking anymore? The hand I had been dealt was frankly [insert expletive here]. After my adjustment to my diagnosis, my sense of humour did not fade away. If anything it became stronger (for better or worse). I don’t consider my humour a coping mechanism as such, but more like a place where I can vent through macabre – and sometimes self-deprecating – one liners.

I remember a while ago my Dad expressed how proud of me he was to take the diagnosis, and all things associated with it, in my stride. I was very touched by this, more than I can say. I think my sense of humour helped. I have always been one to crack wise at the silliest things, and my MS has become an extension of this; an extension of my comedic material.

To me this is not denial, but a way to let others know I am OK with my MS (most of the time), and the implications of it. Please ask me questions! The more the merrier! I am not going to bite anyone’s head off because they don’t know what MS is (I certainly didn’t before I was diagnosed). As I’ve said before, spreading the word is really important to me, and if I can make you laugh about that time I spilled drink everywhere because I couldn’t hold onto the glass properly, please laugh! And don’t you dare feel guilty about it!