Thursday 1st March 2018… the day of the Big Snow… when Ireland ground to a halt. I think we will all remember this one, the way our folks remember ’82.
Today we all got sent home from work at lunchtime, with grave warnings to stay indoors and observe the “Beast from the East” curfew. After panic buying all the bread in the country, we all now have to sit tight, and each of us eat approximately 1,376 slices of pan, before it goes mouldy.
How quickly this novelty will wear off. The craic of mitching off work, and pelting snowballs at the neighbours, will fade as we all try to thaw out achey arms and numb feet. The thought of 2 or 3 more days indoors, outside our control, is already starting to bring people out in a cabin fever. It has only been 6 hours.
Plans have been cancelled, meetings postponed and travel disrupted. We’re all in the same boat, going nowhere.
I spent this afternoon working from home, tucked up on my bed, like I have done many times. When MS is at its worst, I have been stuck indoors, in that same spot.
I’ve been thinking about all my MS friends today. About the many times we’ve had curfews that we didn’t ask for, that we didn’t want. The many days we’ve cancelled plans, postponed meetings, disrupted our lives. All the while, trying to thaw out achey arms and numb feet.
In a few days, our wee country will thaw out and life will get back to normal, hopefully unscathed. We’ll look back on the Beast with fond tales of how many rounds of toast we had to eat.
Us MSers will still be in our boat, paddling along when we can, drifting when we can’t, waiting for the next curfew.
Niamh McCarron 