Bird with a damaged wing
We should help it. No, it's alright. Look, it's still moving.
In the early days, when MS was new to me, it was like a game of what comes next. I didn't know, nor did the experts, and the world at large was oblivious.
I was on a bus and my leg seized up. I was at the open door, couldn't move, passengers tutting, driver shouting, and I could have said I have MS, please help.
But I didn't. I threw myself forward and fell onto the pavement. No-one tried to help me, likely thinking I was drunk. It passed. I got up, limped off.
But can it fly? I don't know. Does it have to?
First published in Under the Radar, Nine Arches Press