A diagnosis of MS can bring with it a lot of anger, which is understandable, but if you already have anger issues this can compound the situation and make you a very angry person indeed. As a general rule, angry people aren't nice to be around so it's a good idea to decide early on how you want to deal with all of the anger in your life. I used to have quite a hot temper which can sometimes be looked on favourably when you are a sparkly teenager but tends to relegate you to the 'grumpy old woman' pile once you hit a certain milestone age. To avoid being thrown on the pile, I've found that I can stop my anger in its tracks by asking myself one simple question: what would Audrey Hepburn do?

Obviously I didn't know Audrey personally and I am basing my opinion purely on what others have written about her, but she seemed to be a genuinely beautiful person, inside and out. By all accounts, not only was she the epitome of style and class she was also kind, loving, gracious, gentle and modest, right up until the end. Even if all of these attributes were part of a constructed persona (not that I believe they were), these are surely admirable qualities to try and emulate.

Sometimes I find that people can be really annoying, especially en masse and in public, which is why I avoid crowds whenever possible. I used to be quite an impatient person myself and would hate it when people walked too slowly in front of me. MS has forced me to slow down but occasionally, particularly when out on my speedy travel scooter or wheelchair being blocked by clueless pedestrians, my impatience resurfaces and I suddenly feel the urge to ram my scooter right into someone's backside. Now when I feel even the hint of such impatience or anger bubbling up inside me, I take a moment to ask myself "what would Audrey do?" and carry on the imaginary conversation thusly "no, Audrey would not ram her scooter up that annoying person's bottom. She would patiently wait for them to move or perhaps even politely ask them if she could please pass by." Just by taking a moment, my anger is averted and a stranger's butt is spared, an outcome that I am sure would receive Audrey's stamp of approval.

I also like to call on Audrey for advice in the face of what my husband and I have dubbed 'fuisances'. A fuisance is a favour that has turned into a nuisance. For example, when a neighbour very kindly puts your bin out for you but puts it way over on the grass rather than at the end of the concrete driveway so that when you zip out in your wheelchair in the darkness later that night with the smelly fish leftovers from dinner your wheels get covered in wet grass and dog poo which you only discover when you get back inside and realise that you have traipsed said grass and dog poo all over the carpet! It's hard not to be angry, but fuisances are usually carried out with such good intentions you really must resist the urge to give in to that anger. Instead, remember to ask yourself what Audrey would do and take a moment to respond in an appropriately graceful manner. Admittedly Audrey would likely have had someone to take out the smelly fish rubbish in the first place, but that's not the point.

Finally, my imagined Audrey also helps me to recognise the importance of accepting help with grace. Prior to my diagnosis, I always preferred to be the sort of person who would provide help to others, not ask for help myself. Worsening disability has forced a role reversal for me and I now find myself having to accept help far more often than I give it. This didn't sit well with me until a wise and dear friend pointed out that on the whole, most people actually get great satisfaction from helping others, just as I used to do. This made me feel a lot better about the situation. Rather than view an offer of help as a criticism of my physical ability, as I have seen others do, I remember Audrey and accept with graciousness, genuine thanks and a smile.