Salvaging The Wreckage

I quite honestly don’t know what’s going on; much as I hate visiting doctors, and hospitals, my body seems to have a contrary impulse which makes such visits essential.


The most recent such visit, after another little setback, was to the GP out of hours Clinic at the District Hospital on Saturday afternoon. I’d suddenly found myself overwhelmed by a head-spinning giddiness coupled with a griping sense of nausea invoking bloatedness. To add to this discomfort, my lower limbs simultaneously took on a leaden rubbery sensation, stubbornly refusing to be comforted by any re-positioning I attempted. The now familiar gnawing bruised sensation in the lower ribcage and abdominal region once again reasserted itself.



I have to admit though that it was the head-spinning giddiness that caused me the greatest concern. When I went to lie down, a feeling of nausea forced me to return to a seated position but, within a few moments, I needed to lay down once more to prevent the room spinning giddyingly out of control. I generally just felt crap, alternating between clammy overheating and cold shudders.



Having telephonically contacted the out of hours helpline, a doctor suggested that I get my OH to drive me down to the clinic at the hospital. The clinic seemed extremely busy, the best part of two hours passed before I got to see a GP. Having checked my blood pressure, which proved normal, he examined my eyes, ears, nose and throat. His diagnosis was severe sinusitis and an infection in the left ear and, prescribed a course of antibiotics and directed us to the nearest dispensary, which happened to be on the route home. In this instance I have to admit that the diagnosis made complete sense of sundry recent symptoms, acknowledged primarily by my attempts to ignore them.



It did seem rather odd that I was experiencing an extremely unpleasant variant of the symptoms that I would, normally, have blamed on smoking too much; having not smoked a cigarette, even lacking the desire to do so, for the past four and a half weeks that sort of unreason could no longer prevail.



Since succumbing to ME, in 2003, it’s easy to attribute any sense of dis-ease to that wretched overall condition. Whilst awaiting a gastroscopy, an investigative response to my various digestive tract problems, I’ve now developed a tendency to blame any other ailments on my intestinal abnormalities. It’s not only medical professionals who have difficulty in looking at the whole person; it’s proving tricky enough to switch my own focus away from the currently dominant site of dis-ease!

Of Memory, Concentration and emotional Perspiration

So much seems to have been going on the past couple of days that, I’ve not even found the residual energy to post a blog. My memory says “yeah, you have had quite a bit going on”, meanwhile my concentration does it’s darnedest to prevent me logging into the memory store. I think one of the differences between memory and concentration is, whereas memory is that great reserve of data concerning what one has done, experienced, read, seen etc., concentration is the cash point needed to access this reserve. Sometimes it’s difficult to remember your PIN, so you’re unable to proceed with the transaction; meantime your attention wanders off elsewhere rather than being bothered to open up your password manager. The memories are there but, in my case, all too frequently I’m too easily distracted to utilize it.

I suppose that concentration is more to do with discipline and planning but, fortunately or unfortunately, my mind is more like an erratic grasshopper. I tend to have a very spontaneous attitude to life and events, undisciplined some might say but, since the onset of ME/CFS forward planning of any kind has become even more difficult. Even thinking about a forthcoming event can so often lead to a state of panic but, then again, for the past few years I’ve never known how I’m going to be in terms of physical and emotional stamina from one day to the next (the worst case scenario is, not even knowing this from one minute to the next).

Whilst memories may flow at a sudden prompt, one thinks of Proust’s Madeleines, concentration requires a much more positive input and, that’s where the emotional stamina dries up on me.

A panic state grabbed me by the trachea and chest yesterday morning; the cause was quite simply having to be up early in anticipation of a parcel delivery which would require a signature, failing that the items would be returned to the depot. Suddenly, I felt trapped in the house (even though I very rarely leave its environs) and, my mind flooded with fears that perhaps I would so desperately need the loo at precisely the time the courier arrived. This was not the best start to the day and, I all too swiftly hyperventilated …; there was no way I could distract myself, switch on the PC, switch off again, pick up a magazine and promptly put it down again. My chest felt like it was being held in a vice, the perspiration fell away from me like water from a Thames Water Board mains pipe but, I did manage to get a breathe as I forced myself into my 7/11 breathing routine.

The parcel arrived by 11.55AM but, that didn’t provide the relief one would have anticipated; in some strange way I felt cheated, had the delivery not arrived that day then I could have been justifiably angry! Perhaps I’ve mentioned before, at times of discomfort or sensory overload (my all too frequent companion in recent years) I become a real irritable sod and, intense anger could be ignited by the most trivial oversight on anyone’s part. Yesterday, as part of the waiting game and, missing my full night-time bed rest allocation, cramps, bruised ribs, headache, earache and toothache all seemed to be sneering at me; all I needed was the least opportunity to let fly.

It wasn’t until a couple of hours after the parcels arrival, I felt sufficiently courageous and energized to break the seal. The parcel contained a new computer base unit which I was to set up for a friend of my beloveds. Initial set-up went quite smoothly but, when it came to the installation of some major programmes they just didn’t want to play ball! I had to find some way to avoid the obstructions, which the supposedly automated installation programme kept putting in my way and, eventually managed to overcome its obstinacy. Thankfully, some other programmes, and files, presented no such problems. Some 150MB of updates and patches later, we were ready to roll. Those 3 ½ hours, spent setting it up are the most intensive operation I’ve performed for many a year and, the opportunity to just collapse for the evening was taken with great relish.

Even after a very relaxed evening, every nerve in my body seemed to be screaming when I rolled myself into bed, and the old restless legs were having a field day. My mind by this time was fully alert and, my need and desire for sleep was thwarted for what seemed like endless hours. Apart from the occasional intervention of severe cramps in my calf muscles, I did manage to rest on the bed until a goodly portion of the morning had passed me by.

Having prepared a somewhat delicious trout, pepper and mushroom topping for our jacket potatoes, the afternoon has been one of total idleness marred only by the stifling heat!