I’d like to dedicate this blog post to my body for being a whiny little bitch.
I suppose that’s not really fair. My body has dragged my through the excesses of my youth, as well as the inertia of my not-so-youth and still provides me with full working use of my limbs, metabolic systems and cognitive functions. Don’t argue- my brain is fine. Mostly. On weekdays.
That’s not to say it hasn’t had moments of spectacular malfunction, as those who read my miserable, Eeyore-esque rant on chronic migraines (and bad doctors) will tell you. The last few weeks, between worrying about, and trying to take care of, Adam; my impending fun-employment, freelance work (to postpone the impending fun-employment) and serving the last drops of notice at my current full-time position, have been somewhat fraught as well.
Like a lot of people, I know when I’m about to get sick, and it’s usually at the arse-end of a high-stress period (I mean time, not menstrual cycle, Becs. Budum tish). The change of seasons doesn’t help, although complaining about the weather does help me to feel like I’m living down to an English cultural stereotype. No, I mean, I can feel it in my bones, and usually, with a careful balance of vitamin supplements and recreational alcoholism, I can waylay the effects until the crisis time has passed and I have the luxury of curling up in bed and dying for a few days.
However, this time when illness struck, it occurred at possible the worst time ever. I was meant to have an engaging, effervescent meeting with a new client; I was meant to spend the weekend working for a second client; and I was meant to walk in to work to serve my last week’s notice with dignity and the adoration (or at least, extreme tolerance of my co-workers. Nope on all fronts. On Friday, my blocked ear started causing me a lot of pain, so I went to go ‘get it quickly sorted’. I was diagnosed with 2 different kinds of ear infections and a nice healthy dose of tonsillitis to boot.
I had been to the doctor earlier in the week to get a check-up after feeling poorly. She had prescribed… vitamin supplements and alcohol (okay, so maybe I prescribed the alcohol). In 2-3 days my body had gone from saying “hey, I think I might not be feeling so hot” to “hey, you’re gonna die now.”
I have spent the last 4 days shuffling between my bed, the bathroom and the fridge. Considering Adam’s weakened immune system, he had to be taken away to go stay at his folks while I recovered, leaving me with only my 2 asshole cats and the internet for company.
As I write this, I’m a few hours away from seeing the specialist that the GP fobbed me off onto, and hopefully the last doctor’s visit of the last two weeks.
Although I have wiled away the hours catching up on The Walking Dead and reading really badly written horror stories, I can honestly say that I would have preferred to still feel normal and be working 15 hour days. But perhaps therein lies the problem… My body has buoyed me through rough seas before, but like any vessel, she’s taken some damage and doesn’t perform quite like she used to. She needs a lot more maintenance, and fibre too (which is where this analogy starts to get a bit sweaty).
Take care of yourselves. Take your vitamins, Get enough sleep. Eat your veggies, and remember: your bodies are nothing but treacherous meat-puppets that could turn on you at any second.