I really hate that sudden feeling of confusion, an un-preparedness to pursue that task or goal which, only a few moments before, you knew you were fully capable of fulfilling. It's not even anything out of the usual, perhaps even part of a regular routine, that suddenly becomes daunting. Even one's thoughts seem to be jumbled up, impossible to decipher. Quite a while since I last experienced that but, yesterday, it suddenly hit me and I can't even remember what the task was that I either completed or cancelled. At lunch-time today it seemed more like a panic attack as I began preparation for this evenings meal; I'm rather pleased with myself that I was able to continue despite a sense of emotional exhaustion. Glands, at side of my neck and under my chin, have been feeling a kind of sharp bruised tenderness for a couple of days now whilst my eyes have reacted with extreme sensitivity, spasmodically and hopefully very temporarily, towards any light source - a kind of sensory overload. Sudden waves of overwhelming exhaustion, as if something's achingly gnawing through my bones as well as muscles, serve to remind me of my quite routine state of being for months at a time during the past decade. The bright side is that it has made me feel most grateful for a fairly sustained run of reasonably good days. I'm just hoping and praying that I'm not heading for a total relapse.
With ever increasing exposure to its spouting puce physiognomy, one can't help but feel that there is very little hope for those in society without the necessary wealth inheriting, tax avoiding, gene. This is a bold virus that strives to batter the economically unfortunate, and the disabled, into submission rather than replicating itself. Other viruses of similar status tend to thrive as bloodsuckers. This particular virus emanated from Eton, transmitted via an Oxford-Bullingdon Syndrome, and is sustained through excessive exposure on BBC and some other TV channels. Whenever this vile puce spouting physiognomy appears, my immediate response is an urgent desire to vomit, accompanied by an uncontrollabble explosion of expletives. Surely someone with a mature humanitarian conscience could produce an antidote for this pernicious disease.
Colour comes back into life – overwhelms the morbid grey – despite
their defeat with the death of their leader, it wasn’t long before the
disciples were enabled to boldly proclaim the good news – something
miraculous had occurred, these frightened and despairing social misfits
were transformed – that’s the experience of RESURRECTION!
"Which way do I turn?" and "dare I turn?"; these related questions come to the fore at erratically scattered instants of day or night. In the past few days, tortuous pains have danced from left side of the back (a hollow bruising ache just below the shoulder blade, as if one was undergoing a sequence of blows from a felt coated lead lump hammer) to a more acute nagging pain in the left side of the back just above hip level. These sensations tend to overlap with a more constantly recurring gnawing ache just under the rib cage and, other old familiars returning with a vengeance. A nausea inducing throbbing pain, on the inner side of the upper left arm - accompanied by a tenderness in the armpit, frequently prevents my attaining an appropriate period of rest during the night.
As exhaustion overtakes me mid-afternoon, a gnawing ache, occasionally becoming more acute, in wrists and elbows necessitates the donning of wrist splints (both arms) and the taking of additional pain killers.Today, this discomfort in upper limbs vied for honours with a throbbing pain around the knees which seemed to ease slightly with the donning of elastic supports. A sensation of giddy light-headedness, alongside not infrequent griping reminders of my IBS and diverticular problems, does little to help me feel at ease.
Despite all the above, I did manage to enjoy a celebratory lunch at The Park yesterday for our wedding anniversary but, even that didn't come payback free!