Pure Catholic

A fall comes before...a long silence

2011-03-29T05:57:00.000-07:00

[This is a post I've put on all my blogs. Let me just say here, though, I'd never have managed the fall, or its repercussions, without the perfect love of Jesus.]

Last August I had a fall: a slip on the bathroom floor whereby my left leg flew under the shower chair, flipped it into the air and brought it down on top of me. So that I lay there, half on the hall floor, for an hour while I waited: first for Tom to arrive from work, and second – when he didn’t at his usual time – for the panic-button people and an ambulance crew to come and pick me up.

And it was agony. And poor little Lucy (toy poodle - as if you didn’t know!), who was in her own room “resting” while I cleaned up her “mess”, remained nonchalant the whole way through: didn’t even respond to all my shouts into the alarm microphone or when the lady from the council and ambulance men finally came, and with me discovering more pain and damaged nerves (shaking leg) by the moment, caused so much commotion. In fact, I think the only time she perked up was when Tom entered the scene and she heard his voice, smelled his smell: that’s always a precursor to excitement from Lucy!

I spent two weeks sitting and sleeping in the same chair (perhaps I should have gone for x-rays but I didn’t: just smeared arnica oil on everything and took extra herbs), and dear Tom waited on me hand and foot. He had a few days off to help but when he absolutely had to go back to work, left me a coffee table covered in flasks of coffee and herb teas, and cups of tissanes and spare cups…and crisps and biscuits…and, yet again, I’d never have managed without him. What a hero!

[Note: rang social services screaming for help but found out file had been closed and had to wait for “re-allocation”. Not the first time we’ve heard that. Should make a lot of noise complaining about it. But it’s too boring. And I’ve got to think of more positive things. Or go down, mentally.]

Yep, it took two weeks to be able to get back into my profiling bed and then - what a relief -: with my legs raised, the grotesque swelling gradually reduced and it got a bit easier to move: I started staggering – “furniture-walking” with a vengeance (never daring not to be holding something) and life looked a bit more hopeful. I spent about a month buying new and different slippers, online, till I found something I could stick with (literally, to the ground?!) and now, here we are…

Well, I have to admit that fall is still having an effect: I still can’t walk brilliantly; lose my balance a lot more; feel pain where there was none, or a lot less, before and, worst of all, sometimes, feel helpless…

I write constantly but too much gets drafted only to be ignored, through fatigue or depression, and then forgotten - going nowhere… And so there’s a new yardstick: if this piece actually does get posted…well, that’ll be an improvement and maybe the other bits I prepared for blogs can follow. That would be good.

In the end, I just want to say, “I’m sorry”. For anyone else who’s had a fall (and I know there are many - some who are bed-bound as a result and develop infections). You are all in my thoughts and prayers. God bless you.

Virginia

Pope Benedict XVI's visit to UK

2010-09-16T03:49:00.000-07:00

WELCOME TO BRITAIN

HOLY FATHER!

I wish I could come to see you but I will be with you through TV, on the Internet and in spirit – especially when you visit St. Peter’s Residence for Older People at Vauxhall! God bless you all.

Your sister in Christ,
love,
Virginia

Proof

2010-09-15T16:00:00.000-07:00

People are always saying they want proof of God’s existence. And I say – to myself or anyone listening – here it is: I am proof…

How else could a cripple (primary progressive multiple sclerosis [PPMS]) alone, make it through a day or night without God?

When you have faith, which is believing without “proof”, and you pray, continually. When there’s nobody else there but you know you are talking to someone and that someone is always responding. When you see yourself doing things that could never be done without supernatural strength… Then you are living proof. And you thank God and wish everyone could share your witness.

Last night was a perfect example of what I mean… Picture it: adult son comes in after day at work, makes evening meal for Mum, feeds the dog, then goes off to friend’s house where he lives.

Mum (your’s truly, the ‘cripple’) moans a bit about being left alone – first to the son, then to the dog (toy poodle – good listeners!) and finally, if not simultaneously, to Jesus – then puts on brave face - and the television - and tries to get on with it…

All seems to be going well (but bear in mind that, although there could be “carers” popping in all day, there haven’t been because, along with many others, this MSer prefers to be alone…ergo, the legs are in a lot of pain at this point) but we need for there not to be a crisis. [Note: this is a house where there have been three power-cuts already this year and, every year sees myriad spiders!] …

Then at 1.30 a.m. there it is… I was watching a late showing of Marcus Grodi’s “Journey Home” on EWTN when: blam! Splot! “I’ve arrived!” It was the biggest, blackest, nastiest (all right, it wasn’t a brown recluse or even a widow but it was bad) arachnid, right there, to the right of the curtains, just behind the television and impossible, for a cripple, to get to. Ah!

Now, to add to my woes – and I don’t know why I forgot to mention this – my profiling bed is in this sitting-room (won’t go into why but it makes sense).

I wasn’t going to sleep with this thing (by the way, Lucy – poodle – has her own room!), so - as I did in the past when legs weren’t so bad – somehow, I had to get the cordless vacuum and aim for it. Hah! Without help?

Well, there-you-go. Helpless. Prayer is all you have.

“Jesus! Jesus!” (before, I’ve tried to cross myself but I think last night I was shaking too much.) I had to turn my back on intruder and reach for the charging, very heavy, Dyson…

I wobbled all over the place. Got my foot caught a couple of times in Lucy’s day-time pen. The damned thing let its web out, dropped and hid behind the curtain. I tried to hold on to a plasma (thin and light) TV-top… And then with another “Please, Jesus…” Just pointed, hoping for the best, and saw it – perhaps, not sure, only just – get sucked down the black-hole tube!

Then I sprayed – a little (allergies!) - high strength pyrethrin, went to brush my teeth (and breathe!), checked Lucy, came back and threw Holy Water all over the place. At last I felt better and could try to settle for the night.

And here I am. The next lunch-time. Daren’t look around but, hey, Mass is on. And there you have it…

They wanted proof of God’s existence?!

Amen

So, how do you die alone?

2010-09-15T15:39:00.000-07:00

[The following two posts were drafted, both in different seasons, earlier this year. I’m sorry it’s taken so long to publish them but hope they’ll still fit in. We start with winter, the second is from mid-summer.]

So, how do you die alone? I mean, if you’re not a suicide who has meticulously planned it for weeks; you haven’t had an accident or heart attack and can see it coming but only just before you’re gone; you haven’t been lying in a hospice/hospital bed, long enough to know the staff and have regular visits, maybe even from loving family; you haven’t got a loving family…

I mean, how do you die alone when you’ve been suffering with a degenerative disease for years but people have always ignored it because: a) its many symptoms are – at least to begin with – invisible; b) in multiple sclerosis (MS) the ‘multiple’ lesions which cause the sclerosis are in the brain (“brain damage”) and spine, leaving the MSer moody and prone to emotional outbursts, as well as physically disabled; c) the pain from spasicity, nerves under attack, weak muscles, etc. makes you irritable; d) you often lash out at those who do try to help and don’t know why; e) people resent the reminder that this could happen to anyone; f) people want to believe life here can be perfect and last forever, so MS (and diseases like it) should have an end-date, be terminal – sympathy and compassion run out; g) [God forbid, anyone should say this but I think they might] you “won’t stop being selfish and get yourself euthanased.”

It doesn’t help, either, if someone like me (and I know I’m not alone among MSers) refuses to see doctors or use the medical establishment at all*. Some: don’t believe your self-diagnoses – even when you were right about other things and MS itself; don’t see the value in alternative therapies (i.e. maintaining some level of control over your own body); refuse to admit that even pharmaceutical companies use herbs.

As secular society relies on the Welfare State and social services to provide for its sick loved ones, it’s carers or nothing now for many senior and/or disabled citizens… So, if you don’t want carers (because you’re allergic to their perfumes**, for example), well, that’s another reason for relatives to turn their backs on you - for fear they’ll be called upon to help.

But probably the main reason people ignore you (or in the case of my dear son, get angry with you) is because they wouldn’t be like you. They wouldn’t want to stay at home if they were crippled or, as I am now, suffering something like COPD (chronic obstructive pulmonary disease) after said son brought “cold” germ for Christmas. They certainly wouldn’t choose to be alone at home (actually, there is also Lucy, a toy poodle who I feel really rotten for but seems happy [it’s not easy to find her a better home and, besides, I love her and keep trying for her sake: she keeps me moving!]).

They wouldn’t be like me – most of them – in that, they think you should do anything rather than die: you are certainly not supposed to look forward to dying (and definitely not talk about it with a smile on your face). And you shouldn’t have a faith that you say saves you from being lonely because you’ve always got the company of the Holy Family and Saints, when they have a faith but don’t feel like that (only because they haven’t been forced into contemplative prayer through pain and alone-ness). Even worse if they’re atheist (which most are): “You can’t just keep talking to an imaginary character…” (most don’t even seem aware of the historical evidence for the life of Jesus) “…and just wait for Him to come and get you…”

Ultimately, they have to believe you can’t be so ill that you think you’re dying and won’t call someone (i.e. doctor, ambulance, social services); you can’t say the only person you would see is a priest, that’s not the way they’d be.

Ah, but you can. And I do. And no one understands it, so it seems cruel sometimes. But I have to accept it.

And I offer it up in prayer to Jesus, because that’s the only thing I can do that may be useful.

While, in the meantime: struggling to stand up; furniture-walking to shuffle around; pooing in pants; coughing so much, heart feels weak; gulping swollen throat; swallowing voice; gasping for breath and needing air-purifier on full-blast, oxygen bottles nearby; preparing and taking dozens of herbs and the odd Anadin for head pain; sleeping only for minutes between coughing attacks; rubbing eucalyptus on chest, tea-tree (both in olive oil) on tooth ache (forgot to mention teeth falling out!); commode-sitting at regular intervals through night; talking to God all night (i.e. confession and just the name “Jesus”); saying Hail Mary’s in head – not usually finishing; surprising myself when – and if – I’m still here in the morning.

Without the prayer – oh, and, by the way, saying what Catholics say at Mass before receiving the Eucharist is amazing when you’re in pain/can’t sleep: “Lord, I am not worthy to receive you but only say the Word and I shall be healed.” Maybe I should say, Jesus’ response is amazing! Without prayer, it might be impossible. I might want to give up.

So, that’s my answer to ‘How do you die alone?’. I’ve written it here because, if there’s one thing good that’s come out of this, it’s the realization that I must keep writing non-fiction – my story – if I’m to help anyone else. And I must get on with it. Time (which only exists in this world) runs out.

Yet I think I wanted to say more. Especially on those last few nights lying there wondering about all this: feeling sure death was just one missing breath away. I mean, it was all right really, knowing you might die the very next moment and no one else being there, but why did it have to seem so matter-of-fact, so ordinary? You were hopefully going to see Jesus soon and, hey, that’s special isn’t it? Beautiful Jesus, followed by (well, maybe some time in Purgatory!), the oh-so-fantastic, Beatific Vision of God the Father, Himself. Why on earth did the very act of dying seem so…earthly?

I think I wanted to say more here to Jesus. At least say a prayer asking Him to take special care of: the homeless during this cruelest winter; anyone else alone and in any kind of pain; all those dying wherever they may be; my son; anyone suffering from, or having to contemplate, loss of a loved one.; everyone who needs Him.

Well, something like that. Something to end it all with, in writing.

And I suppose it is slightly obvious, now I think of it: anything here – death included – is bound to seem ordinary compared to the super-natural wonder of Heaven. Until you actually pass on (go over to the other side/leave this “mortal coil”, etc.) it has to be, by definition, ‘of this world’: earthly! It’s the “reality” we know here. Okay, I can live, and die, with that…

So be it. Amen.

* It must be remembered that there is no known cause of MS [at this time] and many blame the medical establishment with its over-use of anti-biotics, steroids and other pharmaceutical drugs. Many MSers (including myself) have suffered too greatly in the past from these treatments and their side-effects.
** I also have Multi Chemical Sensitivity (MCS).

In the Piazza

2009-06-11T08:52:00.000-07:00

The crowd and me at Mass in St. Peter’s Square, April 1999.
Image credit: Tom Phillips (also scanned by Tom at the last minute – see below!).

I was there once, with Tom, in the Piazza. One April – 1999, I think – for Mass on a Sunday morning. And it was wonderful: the Pope (John Paul ll); the people; Communion. All bathed in sparkling sunshine. I’ve never been so happy – or looked so happy – and we have the photograph to prove it.

But I don’t have a scanning machine. So, if it’s not at the top of this post, it means I haven’t been able to find – the use of – one either, and I’ll be very sorry…

Even moreso, because it seems I’ll never be able to take another.

Every Tuesday night, I go to sleep with EWTN TV [Sky: 589] on - my profiling bed (raises legs and head) is in the sitting-room and I usually do go to sleep with at least the Bible [24/7 on satellite radio; Sky: 0134] being read quietly in the background. But Tuesday night: EWTN. Has to be. And why? Because then I wake up to see our Holy Father, Benedict XVI hold his Wednesday audience; in the Piazza; in front of the gorgeous St. Peter’s Basilica. I can imagine being there. And do share the Blessing. And it’s a good start to the day. I’m thankful…

But, hey, how about I, literally (physically), try to get to Rome again? Pray hard, and work hard, towards it? Wooh! That’d be a goal to aim for wouldn’t it? And something I could include others in (unlike my writing which I think – in the human family, anyway - I’m alone with!). I could try to actually see/meet Our Holy Father. Couldn’t I?

Well, this was the gauntlet I threw down for myself the other week. Not a thing has been done, since, towards it. Except, perhaps, it was mentioned and ignored as just another one of Mother’s mad ideas. Cast aside – even by me. I mean it would be almost impossible to achieve: I haven’t got a passport any more (out-of-date) and, though I did find a photographer (expensive) now my teeth are falling out (gaps in the front) and body-wise, I’m more skinnny and decrepit than ever. Not a pretty sight for la bella città!

What I’d love to do is go to Italy in a camper-van, because then I could lie down all the way, if necessary, and not show myself to anyone. Other than the Pope, of course, and a few of his good people (maybe the odd Swiss guard!). Tom, or whoever was driving, could get the fabulous Italian food and bring it to the van (couldn’t he? Do I sound spoilt?). But Tom has given up the driving-lessons he began before he (so disasterously - for me!), left home last year [see Travels with Lucy]. My brother, Blob (nickname), on the other hand, has driven a lorry…

Ah well, it’s just dreaming. What else you-going-to-do on a miserable Saturday morning, when the ’phone won’t ring and, although people are around, they won’t come to see you?

And I think someone (Tom?!) opened my Windows last night and let a Trojan horse in […to computer]!

I’m drafting this on Word and am ready to find a scanner for the photograph, which I’d love you to see. Otherwise – and, again, I’ll be sorry – a Google image to at least remind me of what we saw!

Oh, just in case the former fails I’ll describe the ‘me’ in that picture…

I was standing – looking over heads to Tom with the camera. And beaming. It really was one of the best days of my life. I’d never been to Italy before (I’m a quarter-Italian and always wanted to go – had learnt the language at home and college for a couple of years) and had only been Catholic for six years (converted with Tom, 1993 – hope to tell you “my journey” one day). And that was it, really: standing (not well but on my legs) and loving everybody. It was the most complete feeling – and one I’ve only ever known through the Church – I imagine there is, this side of Heaven (God willing, I get there!).

I hope everyone knows that feeling, at least once in their lives.

By 2000 I was using a walking-stick and 2001 (year of diagnosis and second trip to Italy, though, unfortunately, not to St. Peter’s), poor Tom had to push me in the wheelchair outside. Great fun on the ancient cobbles!

And that’s the way we measure the progress of this primary progressive multiple sclerosis (PPMS), by looking back and comparing [it] to a time in the future. I guess, right now, if I could manage to get to the Wednesday audience, it would be with the familiar (for people like me) blanket, even on a hot day (always cold) and sitting at the front, right opposite our dear Pope.

Now, that would be an honour.

And what a climax to a life!

God bless you all.

Virginia

P.S. Please pray for Tom, who still visits and helps daily. I know he’s finding this (MS, me) hard. Thank you.

Ash Wednesday (and the MS "end stage")

2009-02-28T07:37:00.000-08:00

[Note: if you don’t see this on Wednesday, 25th February, I’m sorry. I drafted it then but it can take me a while to get to Blogger!]

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…” And, at least today, everyone else will be thinking about it. Well, that’s how it seems, anyway, having just watched EWTN’s Mass and two priests smearing ash crosses on scores of poor, penitent foreheads.

Not secularites obviously, no atheists or agnostics; not even Muslims or Jews; but for Catholics the world over, and anyone vaguely calling themselves Christian, Ash Wednesday will bring them to reflect on death…

The beginning of Lent and the Gospel tells of Christ’s leaving His disciples, to go alone into the Wilderness for forty days and forty nights. To be, physically alone, to be tested to the extreme; tempted, eventually, by the Devil, and, at last, to envision and accept His death to come. It is the time poor Jesus would begin to feel the emotional agony He will cry out from in the Garden of Gethsemane.

And which, therefore as Christians, we are called upon to share, at least empathise with, at this time of the Passion – season of Easter – which starts, liturgically, on Ash Wednesday.

‘Poor penitents’ – of which, of course, I am one, though without the literal ashen brow as I no longer get to Church (I’m sure the local Priest would have come here if I’d asked but I didn’t, he’s so busy – I expect to see him before Easter Day) – will offer up their own sacrificial suffering (their penance for sins) to unite with Christ’s sacrifice of Himself for the sake of the world.

It is what Catholics are encouraged to do at any time of suffering in their lives and why they love the term “offering it up”! It is why on a Catholic crucifix there is always a Corpus (body of Christ).

For me, as someone with progressive MS – a degenerative neurological disease – in chronic (meaning constant) pain, it (the Passion of Christ) has become a blessèd raison d’être. The entire and only meaning of my life.

And for this, I am incredibly, and humbly because I know it is a grace, grateful. It is not for no reason that the word ‘Eucharist’ is Greek for ‘thanksgiving’: body, blood, soul and divinity of Jesus, Son of God, in the bread and wine of the daily Church offering.

Oh, golly gosh, I love being Roman Catholic!

Anyway, back to the reason for this piece: Ash Wednesday. I feel less alone today because I know there are others thinking about their own mortality and their future, eternal, life to come.

And because I hope they may think of all those like me and say a prayer that God gives us, or in my case, continues to give, the strength to go on. That we might show the same courage and fortitude as displayed by dear Jesus in the Wilderness and throughout His journey to, and suffering of, the Crucifixion. “Take up [your] cross and follow me.” [Lk 9:23] May we keep hearing those words.

I don’t know if it’s the same with all – what Tom (son) and I sometimes call - “long-haul illnesses”. I imagine it is, if, for any continuous period, for any reason, someone is immobile. That is, that they, like progressive MSers, will come to what is known as the “end stage”, where even your internal organs start (?) to weaken and, finally, no longer support life.

Well, it looks (even the MS Nurse agrees - but mostly I keep it to myself, I don’t see doctors [see MS blog]!) as though I’m reaching that point. And it’s a scary time. My heart goes out to anyone else going through this and my redemptive prayer (offered up) is for all of us.

My lungs are what I think will go first (as they often are, of course, with pneumonia or something similar – you can read about this and my herbal remedies/tonics for everything lung related, again, in my MS blog!). Or it could be the heart. Who knows? God knows, or will know. And that’s all that matters.

I just thought I might write about that – my end, as it were – and about how it’s going (!), here, with Jesus. And with you who I love because I know I should, if you’re actually reading!

God bless you.

Amen

A note for a friend in a forum

2008-08-01T06:55:00.000-07:00

[1) The following post I have adapted from one I put in a forum (sadly no longer available) a while ago which proved quite popular. It was written for a friend, also disabled, who had recently converted to the faith but hadn’t yet understood redemptive suffering well enough to apply it to her own life. By explaining the way it helps me to “offer (my suffering) up”, I hoped to help my friend. 2) To protect privacy, some names have been changed or omitted. 3) Thanks, as always (see below), to EWTN.]

Maggie, I am so sorry that last time we “spoke” I forgot to welcome you Home, into the Catholic Church. I was trying to say too much, too quickly, I think. Anyway, truly, I am so happy you have joined our family. And know how full of joy and passion you must be, because I was a convert – with Tom – in 1993 and know how I felt, and still do feel, in love with Mother Church. Welcome home!

The other thing, of course, was “redemptive suffering”, and where I’m sure others can (and probably did already) explain it better than I could, I will tell you what it means to me, and how it makes everything so much easier.

Credit for anything, and everything, I know though, really has to go to EWTN. After years of listening on satellite radio and now watching on Sky TV - especially from Mthr. Angelica. Fr. Mitch Pacwa and Dr. Scott Hahn - I have become quite knowledgable in our faith – well, at least moreso than when I started! I am so grateful to them all.

First of all I look to my two favourite scripture passages: Luke 9:23 and Paul to the Colossians 1:24.

In the first, Jesus is addressing His disciples: “If any man would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.” (LK 9:23) He is instructing them, and us, that if we want to be with Him in Heaven we must follow His example, which is to take up our cross (i.e. suffering) and pray for the forgivenes of sins (for each sinner’s redemption). This can be for your own sins and those of your family but most of all, I think for those you are aware of taking place elsewhere, through strangers.

So, in my own way, I will perhaps be feeling a lot of pain, not sure I can go on, and then I picture Jesus in front of me with His cross and I, physically, do my best to keep up with Him (sometimes He takes my hand; He always helps). Other times I’ll meditate on being with our Lord in the Garden of Gethsemane (Mt 26:36-46; Lk 22:40-46; Mk 14:32-42) sharing His Agony. Or with Him on the cross uniting with His suffering of the Crucifixion. At the same time I will be “offering up” my pain – as a sort-of sacrifice to God – and remembering in my thoughts (i.e. silent prayer) those people I wish God to forgive/help/convert – it can be any or all of these things or any you think of for yourself.

This is just how I understand it, and how I try to be faithful to Christ’s teaching but I’m sure, Maggie, you will find your way and it will be just as meaningful. The wonder then, is the peace which comes from knowing that it all does serve a purpose – it makes sense. And that’s when, by the grace of God, the miracle happens: you find yourself filled with a great joy. Which leads us to St. Paul and his epistle to the Colossians.

“Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I complete what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions for the sake of His body, that is the Church [my caps.]…” (Col 1:24).

To my understanding, this is St. Paul realising that, certainly Jesus died for the forgiveness of sins, but original sin, not all sins forever more (as some Protestants would have it). No, Jesus died, that we, through our faith in Him, could be saved by following His example (see above). St. Paul has therefore learnt that to offer up our suffering in prayer for our own sins and others’, post-original sin, is to unite with our Saviour in His Passion. And that unity, that closenes brings a great peace and, finally, joy.

Well, there you go, Maggie. A couple of weeks of crashed computer, souping-up an old and better one, re-formatting and becoming a regular geek later, and here you have it: probably totally redundant by now, but my interpretation (with EWTN’s help) of redemptive suffering.

I’m going to close now and come over to the site (I’ve drafted this on Word – hope the paragraph-breaks and italics come out?!) because I’m really missing everyone on ***** and looking forward to catching up.

God bless you.

Love, Virginia

MS Bubble

2008-08-01T03:17:00.000-07:00

[This poem/prayer also appears on my MS blog (MS - My Scene). I like re-reading it as, for me, it describes the consolation to be found in having a disease like MS (yes, there is one!). It's a "Thank you."]

There is something very special about being in an MS “bubble”.
Alone, untouched by voice or hand, or even presence of another.
Protected, enveloped, by what? By peace. There is no panic here. No stress.
Only the blessing and golden light of being alone,
yet loved, in communion with the Holy Family.
Through silence and physical solitude to feel the soul surrender its own wordless prayer.
Contemplation.
And grace.
Amen.

Creation!

2008-05-25T08:13:00.000-07:00

The Creation of Adam by Michelangelo

Oh, I’m so excited! This is great. A new blog and I wasn’t planning it, though I’d sometimes wondered about needing it, and it’s here. It came. All by itself (no, I know these things are Heaven-sent – thank you, God!). It was even easy – straight-forward – setting it up on Blogger (practice makes nearly-perfect folks!). So I’m thrilled. And, to use a much-used blogging cliché, it’s like having a new baby: I am pleased to announce the birth of…

Pure Catholic. So why the title? Well, in my other blogs – see sidebar), which I love dearly, I have to admit I’ve held back sometimes. On my Catholicism. Because I wanted to speak to everyone, be a witness and an evangelist but not a fanatic. I didn’t want to drive atheists, Protestants or anyone away by being too pedantic or dictatorial – though on occasion the way I felt was hardly hidden! I wanted to meet people on their own level, in their own walk of life. I still do and shall continue to try to do so.

Most of all though, I didn’t want to preach to the converted. Be cosseted by a cocoon of familiarity. And safety. I was a journalist and am used to causing controversy, ruffling a few feathers. I suppose I can enjoy a good argument.

However, with primary progressive multiple sclerosis (PPMS) and it worsening gradually, constantly, I have to say, arguing isn’t quite the fun and the mental stimulation it used to be. One of the symptoms is chronic fatigue, it’s with you always and it isn’t conducive to any sort of heated debate.

No. I just want to be comfortable and at peace, that’s all. And to do what I can (e.g. prayer/herbal tips) to help others. I try each day to help someone, even if I don't actually talk to another human being - most are virtual now! (I’m so grateful, as yet, I can still type and have in the past year learnt to use the Web. [Thanks there, to my wonderful son, Tom, 28 – he just left home because this has got too much (live-in carer soon?). Without Tom I’d never have managed the computer stuff – nor very much really, in the past few years!])

Anyway, so all this (above) meant that I was trying to write blogs in a calm, charitable - Catholic but not obvious - way, on lots of different subjects.

But, let’s face it, to most people my most interesting claim to fame (?!) is that I have MS. There’s a huge community of MS bloggers out there and I’m very proud to be considered one of them, but that’s the thing: MS isn’t the most important part of my life. Being a Catholic is. My faith. Without it I couldn’t go on. Praise God for His graces, He has allowed me to use this time to get closer to Him

Yet I feel the need to tell about that, more than I do and so that’s why, first I joined 4marks, the Catholic social networking site with forums, and now I’ve come here.

And who do I think will read this blog? Me! It’ll be good for me to be free to write what I’m feeling and the prayers I’m praying and to thank Jesus and all our Holy Family in Heaven for their presence with me. Without worrying about who might be annoyed by it (some do not like hearing others’ “success stories”/recommendations, especially when they’re feeling bad - fair enough.). I want to be with them too.

Yes, it’s me who’ll be reading this blog, but who am I writing it for? Ah, primarily, predominantly and purely for Jesus.

Amen

P.S. That doesn’t mean, of course, I won’t be glad if anyone else does drop by!