Sorry for the absence. I have found it very difficult to write anything. Apart from lethargy I have become completely disinterested in talking about myself. That make a blog like this tricky. I will expand on this later.
For now I add the following which has been in draft for sometime. Now, I see no point in polishing it and include it for completeness.
Over the past few days I have come to realise that if this blog is to perform its function I need to go into more depth. So far this has been little more than a catalogue of events. If the experience is going to truly inform the novel, or fellow Hep C suffers, it needs to scratch more than the surface. This intention, of course is easier said than done. For a start lethargy hangs like a noose around my neck. I feel thin somehow. Energy is at a premium. When I am well enough to compose my thoughts, the difficult experiences have passed into memory. That said, I am now aware of the importance of retaining in my memory what is happening to me as fully as possible. We will see what happens.
The last few days have been tough. Thursday began reasonably well. I went off to the supermarket, which is always a highlight of my week. A year ago I could barely walk. Now I have had my ankles fused I can get around without pain and it is a real pleasure.
At least it was before the treatment. Now I find my self walking around as if underwater. I appear to be slower than everyone else. I look at the quiches, unable to make up my mind which one to get or how many. Then there is the woman with a head full of cold, sneezing and coughing all over the vegetable. I can't afford to get your germs, I think. Yet she pops up in aisle after aisle like a heat seeking missile.
Then a voice shouts not far from my ear, 'Oh they've let you out then.' I turn to find its my next door neighbour. I manage to conjure up a joke, but inside I am feeling, you don't know how right you are. By the time I get to the checkout I am on borrowed time. As I wait for my turn I search for a seat. There are none. Why cant they have a small pull out seat? I curse internally. Knowing full well I am not the only person shopping who needs one.
After paying, I shakily leave the shop and go home. Wiped out I go to bed.
It is then the Ribavirin tablets start to play havoc with my digestive system. I don't think its appropriate to go into details, suffice to say, I am developing a close relationship with the WC. Since then I have hardly got out of bed. I can't be bothered to do anything. Its a dangerous scenario. Thankfully the family have been very caring and supportive. They appreciate the strain but don't allow me to dwell on things.
For now I add the following which has been in draft for sometime. Now, I see no point in polishing it and include it for completeness.
Over the past few days I have come to realise that if this blog is to perform its function I need to go into more depth. So far this has been little more than a catalogue of events. If the experience is going to truly inform the novel, or fellow Hep C suffers, it needs to scratch more than the surface. This intention, of course is easier said than done. For a start lethargy hangs like a noose around my neck. I feel thin somehow. Energy is at a premium. When I am well enough to compose my thoughts, the difficult experiences have passed into memory. That said, I am now aware of the importance of retaining in my memory what is happening to me as fully as possible. We will see what happens.
The last few days have been tough. Thursday began reasonably well. I went off to the supermarket, which is always a highlight of my week. A year ago I could barely walk. Now I have had my ankles fused I can get around without pain and it is a real pleasure.
At least it was before the treatment. Now I find my self walking around as if underwater. I appear to be slower than everyone else. I look at the quiches, unable to make up my mind which one to get or how many. Then there is the woman with a head full of cold, sneezing and coughing all over the vegetable. I can't afford to get your germs, I think. Yet she pops up in aisle after aisle like a heat seeking missile.
Then a voice shouts not far from my ear, 'Oh they've let you out then.' I turn to find its my next door neighbour. I manage to conjure up a joke, but inside I am feeling, you don't know how right you are. By the time I get to the checkout I am on borrowed time. As I wait for my turn I search for a seat. There are none. Why cant they have a small pull out seat? I curse internally. Knowing full well I am not the only person shopping who needs one.
After paying, I shakily leave the shop and go home. Wiped out I go to bed.
It is then the Ribavirin tablets start to play havoc with my digestive system. I don't think its appropriate to go into details, suffice to say, I am developing a close relationship with the WC. Since then I have hardly got out of bed. I can't be bothered to do anything. Its a dangerous scenario. Thankfully the family have been very caring and supportive. They appreciate the strain but don't allow me to dwell on things.
1 comment:
Would it help to have someone go to the shops with you? A distraction and help with focus as well as less scary ...?
You know where I am if you need a volunteer.
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