It’s been somewhat of an eventful time as of late, culminating in an appointment and discussion with my neurologist about how we would move forward with a treatment plan for my Multiple Sclerosis. When he commended my level headedness through the process so far – from my initial bout with a sixth annular nerve palsy and speculative diagnosis two years ago, to the confirmatory case of optic neuritis I experienced earlier this year and the subsequent decision being made that I will require life-long treatment – my only thought was, “What other choice do I have?” I told him just that, prompting a repeat of his applause for my reticence in the face of what is becoming an increasingly unsavoury reality.
In truth, my only real concern is the possibility of side-effects to the medication and how these might stunt or impede my ability to do the things I most enjoy; music, reading, cooking, writing, running, working. Of course, there is nothing to be gained by worrying about such possibilities before absolutely necessary, and even then worry is sure to only hinder any sort of productive outcome to the matter. The whole affair put me in mind of the conclusion to Isaiah Berlin’s essay on the originality of Machiavelli in which Berlin contemplates that, “To know the worst is not always to be liberated from its consequences; nevertheless it is preferable to ignorance.” There are many bad things that could happen, regardless of my feelings on the case. Until the nasty bits reveal themselves, I have better things to be getting on with.
I had some free time after my appointment, and before I headed back to the office, I was able to snap some of the interesting street art around Shoreditch.