Ok, this is becoming my diversion from a horrible slump following the end of the hated (but please, I want you back) steroids. I will get back on narrative track tomorrow but I’m going to indulge myself a bit.
I’m a lazy cow. I always have preferred to pamper myself and loll about doing nothing or just exercising my brain (not really accessible right now) with puzzles, books, writing, online learning... I waste money on gym membership and often just did one class a week, maybe supplemented by a bit of a gym session if I found no excuse. I have arthritic big toe joints which make walking painful - an excuse. I have a husband who enjoys housework while I don’t believe I have a domestic gene in my body - so I take the pragmatic approach and leave it all to him now. I enjoy being surrounded by mess. I gain comfort from it when my head is such a mess itself - a kind of balancing act that works. For me. Dennis hates it - he’d live in Japanese minimalism if he could, though what he would do with his record collection remains a mystery as it spreads like triffids through our home.
Fundamentally, I’m spoilt, indulged and bloody lucky. Don’t think I don’t know it or appreciate it. However, THIS IS NOT GOOD FOR ME RIGHT NOW.
I’ve tried searching online for vague answers - how long does this trough last? There’s no consensus. We’re all different and the positive posts about staying active, going for walks, keeping busy, just reinforce the message on my mug: ‘Housework won’t kill you but why take the risk?’ I can barely pick up a mug, let alone a duster.
So I’m asking myself what I can do to be more positive. I feel like I imagine a heavy dose of rohypnol might make me feel. My limbs aren’t mine, they don’t even feel anything except a weird tingling. I’m floppy and lethargic and my appetite has gone. How can you have appetite when every taste and texture has changed to slime in your mouth? But I can’t stay like this. I’ve got three hospital appointments straight in the new year!
I’ve forced myself into the shower and feel fresh and clean. Hair check: still good. I’m bursting for a pee but can’t be arsed to get out of my invalid bed and I am ready to burst with the discomfort of constipation. It’s been hard work maintaining my low target of 1.5L of fluid and I’ve kind of lapsed the last couple of days (yes, more stupidity) but drinking through a straw while the swallowing problem sorts itself out is long, slow and unrewarding. Drink plenty of fluids, they say. Yes, but how please? It takes me 45 minutes to down 300ml of tea, cold by the end, and my air intake has soared.
I need a good talking to. That has to come from me as I don’t take well to being told what I should do - another self-indulgence. It’s coming up for New Year, like Christmas, a non-event in this household. I learnt long ago that resolutions don’t work (I’ve kept ONE in my whole life - I haven’t touched a copy of the Daily Mail - guilty annoyance at the gym - in two years. Go Jan!) so it looks like I need some positive self-talk. Maybe some EFT would energise me. Maybe some more of blessed Michael’s recordings? What I do know is that, by tomorrow, I want to be up and moving about, not wallowing in self-pity, brain dulled, scared and beyond pessimistic. Yes, to be frank, I am scared. Just a little bit... I’m scared I’m slipping into being an invalid and my dear husband, trying his best, knows better than to advise me.
Maybe I should post on the Breast Cancer Care forum but I know that advice I’ll get - stuff that doesn’t come naturally to me. OK, decision time. Up for a pee, finish my cold cuppa and then do my arm exercises to exercise what my lovely Trina calls my noob. If I have any remaining energy, let’s see if I can remember a simple tai chi form. I have a goal!
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