Almost seven years ago, I suffered a catastrophic relapse that left me in hospital for ten days and effectively paralysed from the knees down. Modern medicine did its miracle and I was able to leave the hospital on two, rather wobbly legs. Newly diagnosed with MS and more than a little frightened about the future, I was also grieving for my past.
Not so very long before, I had led an active life-style: playing tennis, cycling and walking the Downs. The first two didn’t seem like they would ever be a possibility again, but the Downs? Would I someday, one day be able to enjoy at least a tiny stretch of them?
Though my walking was painful, slow and bearable for only very short distances, I set myself a goal: I would once again do the glorious walk from Birling Gap to the Belle Tout lighthouse. When I told a friend this, he smiled politely and gave me a kindly if pitying look. I don’t blame him. It was a ridiculous aim, a fantasy to keep me going, an insubstantial dream. But that’s the thing with dreams – they sometimes come true.
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat
Last Saturday, mine did. It was a gorgeous early summer day and I’d just spent several hours writing in the National Trust cafe at Birling Gap. A little stiff from sitting for so long, I thought, why don’t I try the beginning of the Belle Tout walk? I’ll get some fresh air and see if I can manage the initial steep slope. My stamina for walking had been increasing for some months now and I was in a very positive frame of mind.
Shall I stay or shall I go?
So off I set, without my usual walking poles and without a companion, but the walk is so popular and so busy, I knew I could easily call for help should I need it.
The slope was mounted without too much difficulty and the joy of being up there, high on the cliffs, the blue of the sky stretching for eternity was intoxicating.
Downland walks are certainly not the easiest – tussocks of grass, flint, chalk mounds and uneven terrain constantly threaten to upset you and send you sprawling.
So to avoid such a fate, I ambled along studying the ground beneath my feet and the furze and flowers to my left. There were any number of tiny, chalk grassland plants including wild roses and beautiful conical flowers that I think were orchids. Chalk and flints littered the path, the latter being the source of Eastbourne’s wealth from Neolithic times.
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat
When I looked up, I realised that the lighthouse really wasn’t so far away – I might just make it. Despite being a struggle, I covered the final stretch. For the final yards, I wasn’t entirely sure that my legs would cooperate, but we reached the wall and I was ecstatic.
The long walk home
The only problem now was that my legs were are shaky as a new-born foul’s. The walk back was going to be very slow and a little tricky, but fuelled by my success and not a little adrenaline, I headed home.
The winds were high, but behind and to the side of me, so that helped. However, I kept a very good distance from the cliff edge, as one great gust might well have sent me over!
In what seemed no time at all, I was back at the car park, eager to return home and tell my husband of my achievement.
And that it occurred here was especially poignant. Birling Gap and the cliffs that guard the coast are my favourite place in the world. I have always come here and when things were especially difficult, I could manage to at least enjoy the views and the biting air crisp with sea salt. For years, I had parked in the disabled bay and with the aid of a stick, staggered to the cafe. Now, my blue badge seldom leaves my bag.
Reality check
Buoyed with this success, I spent the rest of the week in a delirium of joy. Perhaps I could overcome this wretched disease; perhaps recovery was truly possible.
But then, I went to visit my MS nurse yesterday and was forced to concede just how much my condition affects my daily life.
My husband had taken the day off and invited me to join him for a woodland walk with the dog. Tired from an early start and stressful hospital visit, I only just made it back with his support. By the end, he joked that I looked like one of the contestants from the Monty Python Upper Class Twit of the Year skit where they have to (and fail to) jump match boxes. The protruding tree roots were my matchboxes and equally challenging to get over. We ended our walk in fits of giggles.
Keep on dreaming
What I haven’t mentioned is the physical effects that such exertions have on me. Upon returning from my Belle Tout walk, I rested for the evening, slept for twelve hours and woke feeling that my legs were suspended over hot coals. Until early afternoon, I wandered about in a satisfied stupor until we left to see the Jubilee celebrations in a nearby village.
Not content with this one achievement, I’ve been stretching my capabilities all week, with the consequence of early nights and naps to combat the fatigue. I am truly exhausted and would happily fall asleep on a log. But, I am also full of hope.
No, I am nowhere near overcoming this disease and just discovered that the horrid night cough was what I dreaded most – a symptom of MS where you lose the ability to swallow. A solution? To sing. That is the kind of physio I like.
And what would I like you to take from this? No matter what your situation, pursue your goals. Don’t make them small, because you are afraid you may never achieve them. Make them big. The likelihood of my making it to Belle Tout seven years ago was about the same as the average Joe scaling Kilimanjaro. We can have no idea what we can achieve until we set our sights and try.
I really miss cycling and think that an e-bike might work…