That’s how life feels to me right now.
The last 20 hours or so have not been fun. The feeling of energy drain is very strong this time around. And with the energy goe my ability to concentrate, and that means simple things lke moving my big fat butt from my bed to my computer chair takes like half an hour because my mind just keeps drifting away from the task at hand as the tiredness and mental drain overtook me and I was out of for a while.
Unsurprisingly, I’ve been sleeping a lot. Not a lot of other things you can do with your time when under such a state of drain.
I Was too fried to even play games on my tablet, and that’s like my ultimate fallback position. The final citadel before we surrender completely.
i think I am gradually getting better. I feel a little livelier now than I did this morning.
But I still have all the usual flu-like bullshit going on. My nose is sore and runny. My throat feels raw and scratchy. My stomach is not a happy place
Hell, my balls are even aching for some god damned reason.
IT doesn’t help that I ended up not eating much of anything for a while. Kind of hard to feed yourself when you’re barely even coherent.
I’m getting some food into me now, at least. Now I just have to deal with a grumpy stomach which views all food as a potential invader.
We need nutrition, stomach. So get over yourself.
Well that’s about as much as I will be able to do this time.
Time to return to the hibernation chamber.
OK, let’s see if I can make it to 500 words this time.
Usually, I do 500 words with lunch and 500 with dinner but given how ill I am, I have had to subdivide the task further.
One distressing thing : I am having trouble seeing things on my computer screen. The white background of my blogging window seems too bright now and I have trouble making out the letters of what i have typed.
Also distressing : breathing trouble. I assume it’s related to the heaviness et al in my lungs. But sometimes, when I am in certain positions, I find myself “running out of air” even though I am breathing normally.
It’s like the oxygen level in the room suddenly plummeted.
Those are both pretty serious symptoms, and combined with all the rest, I clearly need to start thinking about the ER or Urgent Care.
Not my favorite places to be, but I am becoming genuinely worried about what the fuck is going on with me and I don’t want to be another “if only we had gotten to it sooner” statistic like some stubborn old coot.
I haven’t reach coot status yet. I’m not even a geezer. But I hope to make it there.
So, barring a sudden worsening of symptoms, I will wait until tomorrow afternoon and reassess then. If I am not any better (or worse), it’s off to the ER I go.
Oh well, at least I have a tablet to use to entertain myself,.
More after the break.
Here we go again
Let’s see how many words I can do this time.
I might me on the mend. I feel a little more3 energetic than I did this afternoon. Whatever the fuck is going on with me, my body is fighting it.
Go, white blood cells, go!
I at least can make it to the bathroom and back. Which is kind of important.
I mean, I have my receptacle for when I need to pee, but otherwise… that does nbot bear thinking upon.
I might even be able to make it to the kitchen and back, which is normally a twice a day “adventure” for me. It would have been out of the question earlier – I was way too tired and incoherent to make the trip.
This doe beg the question, though, of whether or not I could move enough of my food assets into the bedroom here to avoid having to make that trip.
The answer is no, methinks. Not without gettinga full sied fridge n’ freezer in here. There’s keeping my cans and bottles of pop cold, and ke\eping my my frozen confections frozen and nice.
I have a mini-fridge that might be able to be put back into service. That would at least do the job for my canned pop. It has a freezer compartment, so it’s possible that it could hold a box of delectable treats from Chapman’s.
The idea of rearranging things so that I don’t have to go to the kitchen any more makes me kind of sad,. though. Those kitchen adventures, as painful and stressful a they can be, are the only times I leave this goddamned room of mine on most days.
The last thing I need is to make my world even smaller.
In fact, I should try to add one thing a week where I leave the apartment for non-medical and non-Denny’s reasons.
Something just for me.
The logistical issues would be significant, granted. Obviously a quick jog around the park is out of the question.
To be honest, I have no idea what I would do. That is unsurprising, given that I had no idea what to do back when I could walk, either.
I’ve lived such a home-bound life. Regardless of physical health, I just haven’t gone out much. I have my computer and the internet. Why go out?
All kinds of reasons. More than I could possibly enumerate.
But part of dealing with mental illness is pretending that your mental restrictions, however severe, are a choice.
“Oh no, I’m not chained to this radiator. I can leave whenever I want! I just choose not to. I don’t feel like it. ”
After all, you won’t feel trapped if you never try to escape, right?
And it’s true. I almost never think about how restricted my life is. Why upset myself?
But I am getting better about that, hence my grumbling about it in this space. I now know that I have to keep getting pissy about it if I want to have any hope of escape.
Because only rage can break these bonds.
Now excuse me while I rip this fucking radiator out of the wall.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.