A Little Stumble

Is it quite simply that I’m not sufficiently attentive to my body’s requirements or, are the signals transmitted by the aforementioned ‘heap of sensations’ deliberately muffled? This question is posited from the shattered state in which yours truly finds its being. In recent days I have started to take progress for granted, yesterday being no exception.

So, what went wrong? If I knew the answer there would be no need to ask the question. Saturday morning I felt unusually alert and, ventured out into the garden, shortly after 10.00am, to do a little necessary tidying up. One hour later, I quite sensibly called a halt to these exertions and returned to the house for a little rest. In the early afternoon, my beloved and I strolled down to the local Brewers Fayre for a relaxed lunch and, by the time we returned home, knew that I’d had sufficient exercise for the day.

Preparation of Sunday lunch occupied best part of an hour, late afternoon / early evening but, by then the aching weariness was beginning to set in. An early night was definitely called for; it was almost as if shutters kept falling in front of my eyes, a blanket kept muffling my ears, and the world became a floating blur. I think it must have been the quickest I’ve ever managed to transform myself from fully clothed to bed-resting Malcolm. Such was the need for sleep that I fought my weariness, as I undressed, the sooner to immerse myself in the duvet lair.

From the exhaustion came forth … not sleep … but rather a tortuous aching void, a kind of spontaneous depression, a turbulent restlessness. Far too tired to sleep, everything seemed rather pointless as I was unable to pinpoint the source of my complete psychosomatic dis-ease!  S-H-A-T-T-E-R-E-D, I couldn’t bear to be touched, even though one of life’s greatest pleasures is being cosily snuggled with ma belle; it was almost as if my body was an alien being, totally unrelated to my stupefied brain.

After a while, I arose from my bed, hazily stumbled down the stairs, my beloved following in concerned protectiveness, wandered through the kitchen to the stable-door for a nicotine fix. When in turmoil, grab a cigarette! The nicotine was followed by a mug of chamomile tea and, a laboured re-ascent of the wooden hill. On return to bed, the invasion of the night-sweats began, even before I’d gotten off to sleep. It seemed inevitable that they would return to disrupt my snoozes and, as is its wont, the inevitable occurred!

Hopefully, things can only get better; I look through bleary eyes at the sun’s reflected shine on the clouds and thankfully, I rejoice in this day the Lord has made.