Today provides one of those
unusual mornings, at only 11.45 I feel almost awake; a rare instance indeed!
Just over a week ago I intended to write a posting, more a catharsis for me
than a word for others, but an intolerable lethargy weighed far too heavily. My
scribbling that day went as follows :
“And wimpishness knows no bounds, the tears flow
freely, the sinuses discharge an uninfected load as earth’s rotation slows
right down A flood of fear and selfishness combines
A flood of fear
And selfishness
Knows no bounds –
The tears flow freely
And sinuses discharge
An uninfected stream
Of hopelessness …”
My brain seemed blocked; no
words would flow until, some twenty-four hours later, the above emotion
transmogrified into the following doggerel:
Dog
Errol
but
when
there’s
more
to
follow.
Rain
never follows
an
unending drought.
If
once a mouse
should
catch a cat
the
fox would say
I
smell a rat
Whereas earlier in the year, despite all too familiar aches, pains, and
wooly confusion, I managed to remain quite upbeat, by early March my reserves
of emotional and physical stamina had fallen from their quite low plateau. Even
the most modest exertion seemed to wipe me out. It was as if I had to make an exhausting
conscious effort to persuade my legs to move in the right direction, as I
ventured out into the hallway; this would occasionally be followed by a
strenuous mental effort to remember why I’d headed there in the first place.
Earlier today it seemed as if the sun would make an appearance but, as I
turn back towards the window, hailstones are flailing down from the heavens,
their rebound, as they leave the ground, makes mockery of my prevailing
inertia.
No sooner had I jotted down the previous paragraph than the sun, in full
glory, burst through the residual cloud cover as grey skies turned to blue. The
swiftness of this transition would be hard to believe were it not experienced
first hand by one’s own senses. So, you may add, “your senses are working, even
if much else of your corporeal being seems to be giving up on you. Why don’t
you stop moaning?” the latter question I’ve frequently asked myself but, it’s
far too easy to succumb to more negative attitudes when your feeling several
degrees below an iffy par.
*********
A gum infection, and accompanying toothache, really set me back and, as
is its wont, the worst flare-up occurred on a Friday night and the dentist doesn’t
work at weekends. Strangely, the pain seemed to emanate from beneath a crown;
intellectually this made little sense as I knew that tooth had been root-filled
many moons ago. The worst of the pain then presented itself under a wisdom
tooth; when I had an emergency appointment with my dentist she noted that I
nearly went through the ceiling when she tapped the offending tooth. She duly prescribed
a course of antibiotics to combat the infection, halfway through which the pain
seemed to have magnified, and with my somewhat iffy immune system sundry
familiar ME symptoms returned to bite me, affecting my balance, brain fog,
aching muscles, chronic IBS and diverticular disease symptoms seemed to think
it was carnival time; they rejoiced as I slid further downhill.
I was feeling so dreadful that when I realized my beloved was going to
visit her brother, and would be away overnight, the floods of tears mentioned
at the beginning came into play. My only utterance, through my wimpish
blubbering, to ma belle was that I was afraid that I was going to die alone.
Matters weren’t helped when an early morning ‘phone call wakened me from
my fitful slumbers on the morning of ma belle’s departure. The call was from a
credit card company suspecting there may have been a “fraudulent use” of my
credit card and, I must contact them on an 0845 premium number. I went
immediately to saynoto0870.com where I found an alternative number to contact
card services. Just as well that I used a free number as I was talking to (or
being talked at) the bank for 40 minutes when palpitations and breathlessness
took over. My beloved fortunately had not yet set off, as she had to take over
the conversation from me.
The annoying oiks on the banks end of the phone line endlessly repeated
the same questions re a gambling website that I’d never heard of and had I made
a £500 payment to that site on that morning. Although they acted on the basis
that a fraud had been committed, somehow this payment had been accepted and
would appear on my next statement. They then explained that in a fortnight they
would be sending me a legal letter which I would have to sign to say I had not
made this payment. The attitude of the people I spoke to left much to be
desired, especially when dealing with people who have a chronic debilitating
health condition. I was definitely made to feel that I was a prisoner in the
dock being grilled by a particularly abrasive prosecution counsel.
The card was only renewed earlier this month and has never left the four
walls wherein I live, breathe and have most of my being! It had only been used
a couple of times online at companies with whom I have had regular secure
transaction completed via a “verified by” security check so, one can only
surmise that there is somebody either at the bank or one of these companies who
has filched my card details.
Sorry for such a sustained moan but, it only serves to illustrate my
roller-coaster ride.
