Having posted this on Hirsute Antiquity, I recognized that it tied in reasonably with the header to this blog - at least that's my excuse for doubling up on a posting.
WE ARE SUCH ACHES AS DREAMS EMERGE FROM
Wrists, elbows, shoulders and hips; it seems the baton of discomfort is passed randomly between these runners in the restless stakes. A pattern slowly emerges, snuggling down, followed by a few restful moments before the mantle of dis-ease drapes itself over the appointed point of articulation. This process, requiring numerous postural reshufflings, continues for at least the first couple of hours in my duvet lair; eventually I drift into the realm of dreams. When I say dreams I mean full technicoloured, surround sound visions; a strange yet sufficiently natural urbanscape in which– I participate in numerous conversations, and arguments, in the process earning myself both respect and hostility. At some point, there’s always a last bus or train that I manage to miss and, frequently offers of help come from the most unexpected quarters; I teeter on the brink between optimism and cynicism.
With each discomforted awakening, I find it possible to recall multitudinous events from these dreams then, quite frequently, drift back into those selfsame situations. The fifth or sixth awakening, accompanied by all too real muscular and joint aches and pains, finds me in that realm of chest aching, rib-burning, coughing fits. With the coughing, the whole of my rib cage feels as if its been trampled by a herd of marauding bull elephants; regrettably, this is not part of a dream but rather a brutal reality.
Come the morning, I’m far more shattered than I was when I exhaustedly tumbled my way onto the mattress last evening. Finally, in the curtain filtered subdued morning light, I find a comfortable posture and drift back into the arms of Morpheus. Shortly after mid-day, I emerge half-awake into the world of the clothed day people.
Presumably, the various aches and pains my flesh is heir to correlate in some way to a marginal increase in exertion over the previous couple of days. There always seems to be a price to pay but, life is far too short and valuable to permanently err on the side of caution.
- living and frequently struggling with moderate M.E. -
where (bad) health, faith, politics and the joys and troubles of daily life collide.
ME
1 comment:
That was a very insightful read. I have heard people with CFS talk in the past about how physical actions which are usually taken for granted, become more sharply defined. The whole process is much more intense and there is a greater awareness of what is being done in each movement. The miracle of action comes into focus.
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