The Funny Side of MS #3986: My Flare-Up made me Look like a Flirt
The Funny Side of MS #3986: My Flare-Up made me Look like a Flirt
You know when you’ve had children and certain dignities and privacies go out the window? Well, MS is a bit like that too! Where once I would have been mortified to draw any sort of unwanted attention to myself, I find I no longer give a monkeys (almost!)…It’s probably just as well…there have been moments where it would have been nice to have a hole open up in front of me?…
Picture it: A very busy week had turned into a very busy (and warm) weekend. I was having a great week though and feeling good so decided to have a girly outing with my youngest. Shopping, coffee, a little more shopping and perhaps just enough time to squeeze in another coffee.
I was standing in a queue, ready to make payment when (*twitch*) I felt the tell-tale sign of an impending flare-up (*gasp*). A shop full of people, a lengthy queue that I had just gotten to the front of and MS (my trusty sidekick) thinks this would be a good time to come out and play. I was determined to see this thing through; we were almost at the tills and, if my calculations were correct, I had a couple of minutes before the vertigo or the dead leg or whatever it was that was coming arrived.
So, what is the tell-tale sign of an impending flare-up? For me, it’s when my right eye begins to twitch. Not noticeably, at first, until it turns into a full-blown wink and that’s exactly the direction this was headed.
I got to the till, threw the armful of clothes on the counter and began dancing from one foot to the other, impatiently waiting for the man-child behind the till to ring everything up. (*twitch*)(*twitch*)(*wink*) Oh flip-me! There it goes, in less time than I thought! (*wink*)(*wink*)(*wink*)
By this time I’m grinning sheepishly hoping the man-child doesn’t try and engage me in conversation, or worse, make eye-contact. I’m trying desperately to push the ATM card into the slot when there’s a tugging at my elbow.
“Mom? MOM!!” It’s my daughter trying to get my attention through gritted teeth and the beginnings of teenage angst. Clearly, in my growing frustration and panic I have missed a social cue – it’s the only time I get scowled at in public? . (*wink*)(*wink*)…(*wink*)(*wink*)(*wink*)
I look at her, she gives me the eye roll?, I look at the guy behind the till. “Ma’am?” (*wink*)(*wink*) “Would you like a bag?” (*wink*)(*wink*)(*wink*). Well, there it is: full on eye-contact made and I’m standing there winking uncontrollably at a man-child young enough (almost!) to be my son.
“Yes please.” I mumble, pretending to be completely pre-occupied with the card machine, fingers poised above the buttons, ready to key my number in, complete the transaction and escape any further public humiliation.
I may have left my dignity behind in that shop but I did walk away with something…a hastily scribbled note on the back of the receipt:
CALL ME
07# ### #####
I have no words!? (*wink*)(*wink*)
