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I HATE BEING CHRONICALLY ILL

Anxiety, Career, Cats, Damn like or damn comment on my damn blog! Thank you., Employment, Fatigue, Happiness, I'd like to sit down please, Insanity, It's not fair, Life is hard, MS, Multiple Sclerosis, Sexy foxes, Why aren't I Patti Smith?

September is like January Pt 2 for teachers. And probably some non-teachers as well. Like the first official month of the calendar year, I’m having a ‘dry’ September after a reasonably alcoholic summer. And I’ve made both a mind map and a to-do list. Which proper disrupted my sleep last night with list induced panic. Horror show. Disclosure: one item on aforementioned list is WRITE BLOG POST. So don’t think I’m doing this out of kindness, alright?

The first list item is: PAY MONEY INTO BANK. I’ve put a line through that one. And it’s only 10:17. Go me *rolls eyes*. 

And this is why I HATE BEING CHRONICALLY ILL. 

My walking is all difficult today, so instead of making my way through town looking all ‘together’ like a woman in a sanitary product advert, I weaved all about the pavement, in serious danger of veering into actual traffic, probably presenting as a drunk – which would be fine if I was, in reality, drunk – but I’m at the start of a dry month. And I’ve a new haircut that I alternate between HATING and REALLY QUITE LIKING but this morning it added to my woes by making me look like a DERANGED MANIAC/SMALL BOY/HARASSED HOUSEWIFE IN A KITCHEN SINK DRAMA DIRECTED BY KEN LOACH. 

And. 

Despite my friends saying stuff like, “well, you never really liked being a teacher…” THAT’S NOT THE POINT. Yes, when I could work, I complained incessantly, always boring on about wanting to go part time, BUT NOW, I’m totally envious of my teacher husband/friends starting the 16/17 school year today. IT’S NOT FAIR. Work means colleagues and intellectual stimulation and money. AND NOT FEELING LIKE A TOTAL LOSER BECAUSE YOU DON’T WALK RIGHT AND YOU GET SO TIRED AND NEED A REST AND YOUR WRITING IS TERRIBLE BECAUSE YOU ARE BROKEN. 

So. I feel great. Have a nice day. That’s one more item crossed off. 

END OF POST. 

Miscellany. 

Damn like or damn comment on my damn blog! Thank you., Fatigue, MS, Multiple Sclerosis, Summertime drinking

Yo. It’s Sunday morning, I’ve thrown open my window and can hear the contented twitterings of various garden birds, floating into my bedroom.* The smoky haze clouding the sky has started to be burnt away by an increasingly confident, dare I say cocky, sun. It promises to be a lovely day. That’s what the Met Office weather app says, anyway. Albeit less poetically, and with pictures.   

  
I’m sure, dearest reader, you’ve gathered that I have nothing of significance to impart to you on this fine day. Yep. True dat. So, instead, I might equip you with a list to be going along with. It seems to be the only right and proper thing to do. You onboard, so to speak? Okay. Deep breath. Here goes:

  • Every morning I’m taking a, not ridiculous, but, let’s say, silly number of pills. Regarde: MitoQ x 2 (no idea if they’re having any effect at all, or what exact effect they should be having); Gabapentin x 2 (to be repeated twice more throughout the day, if you’re an MSer it’s 3x900mg – for LOUSY NERVE SPASMS – these work, good); sertraline, for my MOOD; amantadine (for the FATIGUE – don’t appear to be doing cuss-all). I’m not quite rattling yet, but, you know. 
  • Item two on my list. Er. I’m still under the specific weather system a committee has voted, unanimously, to call FATIGUE. 
  • It’s not like I’m completely incapacitated though, before you rush over with magazines and lovingly prepared meals in little goddam Tupperware boxes. More inconvenienced. Thanks, though. 
  • Can I get away with not washing my hair this morning? Because that’s such a tedious life-force sucking activity. And I really can’t be bothered. It’ll be alright, right?
  • Final list item: this is the end of the list. 

Are you still here? Well, can you leave please? Go! I’ve got a day to attack. Or nudge. Clip, at least.  

 

*This isn’t a good sentence. Badly constructed. I mean the sounds, not the actual birds.  Okay?

I can only disappoint you. 

Anxiety, Be nice, Damn like or damn comment on my damn blog! Thank you., Why aren't I Patti Smith?

As the crowd wait expectantly, the mood palpably begins to shift, from one of anxious-excitement to anxious-irritation. She’s almost an hour late, the group seem to think as one; all that anxiety has transformed them into a buzzing hive-mind. Dangerous. 

Then, finally, like the tide coming in, a ripple of silence makes its way from the front row all the way back to those bearded old blokes that are to be found at the back of every gig, ever, engaged in esoteric nodding. 

The lights dim. 

On stage, appearing to have been literally pushed, a single diminutive figure reluctantly makes their way to the mic-stand. 

The audience, as one, hold their breath. 

She speaks thusly: Er, guys – hey there – thanks for coming out to see me tonight – appreciate it – but – erm – the thing, the issue, the nub, is – I haven’t really got anything to say. 

A mumour of confusion, the shifting of feet. 

The thing is, I was pretty proud of my early stuff, but the well’s run dry, man. And, I know, I know, I promised y’all posts about the NHS, Right to die – but really – what have I got to say that hasn’t already been said more coherently, pithily, succinctly by countless others?  

Ema, I love yooooou! Some handsome and intelligent looking fellow shouts. 

Thank you *bashful wink* – What I’m saying to you tonight is, I’m not going anywhere, but you know, try not to expect too much – ’cause – like late 90s band Mansun – I can only disappoint you. 

In a hail of bottles, she exits the stage.  

 

Preview. 

Damn like or damn comment on my damn blog! Thank you.

I’ve been writing posts everyday so far and, to be honest wit ya, there’s only so much one person (me) can think to write about. So I’m going to space my posts out a bit, henceforth, but also write about stuff as it occurs to me: AIOTM…AIOTM. [niche reference, if you get it, you get it!].

I’ve pretty much decided that my next three posts will (probably) be roughly about: coming out as an MSer; the NHS and Jezza ‘Hunt’; the right to die debate (heavy).

Any suggestions would be welcomed and then, probably, ignored. Ha – I’m just messing with you!

Also, I’d like more people to read this (yeah, idk why either – why not try keeping a diary?), so please, if you’ve enjoyed reading it, pass it on. As well as this, it’d be pretty great if you’d put any thoughts about what I’ve written in the comments bit.

End of post.