Sweet Dreams

Strawberries and Cream. Remember those sweets? They came in big jars which the shopkeeper tipped into old-fashioned scales before pouring them into a little paper bag. “That’s ten pee please.” Even better were Rhubarb and Custard, or Cola Bottles. Pear drops were no good. They were too heavy. You didn’t get many of them for 10p. Best were the really tiny multi-coloured pips. You could fit loads of those in your little bag.

What about Black Jacks? You couldn’t eat them in secret. A black tongue gave you away every time. But they were oh so delicious. Fruit Salads were good too. Same size as Black Jacks but without the black tongue. Ha’pny chews that became two for a penny when they got rid of half-penny coins. Competitions to see who could get the most sherbet to stick to their Liquorice Torpedo. And Traffic Lights. Oh what fun you could have unwinding the liquorice circle bite by bite.

The chewy, white Pacer mints circled with green stripes. The hard boiled fruit squares of Spangles. Sugar sweet necklaces that grew thinner as you ate your way through the beads, until all you were left with was the elastic. Checking what your Love Heart said before savouring it, as you read Jackie magazine.

But best of all, was hunting for every last toffee in Nan’s Christmas tin of Quality Street.

 

 

Of course I want to continue

Compared to the marathon round of assessments at Month 12, Month 15 was a doddle. It was just the one appointment at the Research Centre. Even so, it was still going to be hard this time.

I’d had a progression in the intervening weeks. Initially, I’d thought I was just having a bad day. It just never improved. My balance had worsened and I was falling over more, mostly at home, when I was in my comfort zone and taking less care. I had started to use two crutches (instead of one). And for places I used to park outside of and walk into, I now used the scooter. I hoped it was more a case of my being tired of struggling than a shortening of my walking distance. What changes would there be in my assessment scores? I wasn’t going to be able to ignore them and pretend it wasn’t happening.

It was all rather depressing, not helped by torrential rain on the way there.

 

On the plus side, I had an interesting discussion with the lead consultant about the trial in general and about MS. Despite how I felt that day, for the most part, being part of the trial has been a positive experience for all sorts of reasons. It has little to do with the effect the drug may or may not have and regardless of whether I’m on the medication or the placebo. It feels constructive and hopeful. I’m doing something, instead of just waiting for the inevitable. So when he asked if I was happy to continue with the trial, despite my little hiccup, the answer, of course, was “Yes”.