Living with Myasthenia Gravis can be a rollercoaster, a slow-moving, muscle-fatiguing, slightly sarcastic rollercoaster. Just like any ride at a theme park, if you’re going to get stuck on it, you might as well sit back, throw your arms into the air, enjoy it, and have a good laugh.
I thought today we’d talk about laughing about MG. It’s pretty quirky and can be quite humorous at times. Don’t get me wrong, MG is nothing to laugh at, but since there’s not much else we can do about it, we might as well see the humor in it. Let’s look at a few examples.
The Surprise Party Called Fatigue
MG fatigue is like that friend who shows up uninvited to your party and then proceeds to not only become a Debbie-Downer, but also succeeds in dragging everyone else’s mood down with them. You’re doing fine one minute, maybe mowing the lawn or crushing a Netflix marathon, when suddenly your arms are staging a sit-in, your legs are filing a complaint, and your eyelids unexpectedly decide to clock out. MG fatigue doesn’t send warnings; it sends ambushes. If you view it as an overdramatic theater kid, acknowledge its flair, find a comfy chair and sit back to watch, it’s almost entertaining.
The Great Eyelid Escape
The fancy word is ptosis. I tend to think of it as “why does it look like I’m winking at strangers again?” When your eyelid decides to take a nap mid-conversation, it can be a real icebreaker. Try saying, “Don’t worry, I’m not flirting; the muscles in my eye just took a siesta.” That either gets a laugh or a very awkward pause, which, let’s face it, can also be kind of funny.
Talking Like a Drunk Pirate
MG affects speech too. Some days your voice is clear and strong. Other days, you sound like you’re doing an impression of a pirate with a mouth full of peanut butter. Or, your voice becomes so squeaky and soft that you sound like you’re a three-year-old. Want to have some fun? Try sounding like you know what you’re talking about when your voice sounds like it’s coming out of a three-year-old! Ahhh, MG. Such a prankster.
Chewing: The Olympic Sport
Have you ever looked forward to going out to eat and enjoying that mouth-watering steak only to need a halftime break? Welcome to the MG chewing challenge. By bite number five, you’re negotiating with your jaw. “We’re almost there, buddy. Don’t give up on me now!” Silver lining? Smaller bites makes for longer meals which helps aid digestion which gives you more time to appreciate your food. The Platinum Lining? You might just get to enjoy the rest of that steak tomorrow for lunch!
The Suddenly Appearing Symptoms Game
Is is MG? Is it stress? Is it just Monday? Snowflake symptoms that appear out of the blue can actually be pretty funny. One minute you’re ordering a Carmelicious Latte with extra whipped cream and the next minute your mouth won’t work well enough to give the barista your name.
Laughing Because We Can
Here’s the beautiful part: MG teaches us patience, resilience, and how to laugh at life’s absurdities. Every droopy eyelid, every slurred sentence, every wobbly-legged moment reminds us that we’re still standing – maybe a little tilted – but still here.
Sometimes the best therapy is a good laugh and there’s no better laugh than be able to laugh at yourself. So go ahead: wink involuntarily, mumble magnificently, and chew heroically. You’re not just surviving MG; you’re doing it with humor, heart, and one droopy eyelid held high.