Relapse perhaps

Relapse perhaps

I’ve been dreading this. I’ve had eighteen months of being less ill. Not well but being less ill. I’d figured out how much rest I need to allow before and after doing stuff (one day for having my mom over to lunch, two days for going to see some friends, four days for something huge like a festival) and I’ve got to admit I felt like I’d found a balance. A new normal, as I’m fond of saying. I still had the odd curve ball, like needing to take a chunk of time out if I’ve washed my hair, and I still have to make sure I don’t get over confident and think I can do all the things I used to do but overall things felt more manageable.

Enter a random viral infection. An innocuous, if unpleasant, stomach bug descends, and I’m back to square one. Everything is harder than it was last year, I’m cancelling a quiet lunch with some very old friends, and a trip to see a band I love (frustratingly this one was a free visit because of feedback I gave the venue on their accessibility facilities). I’m back to dreading the shopping delivery because I don’t know how I’m going to unpack it, back to getting out of breath folding socks and back to being scared that I’ve finally pushed too far. It’s like living on a really dull knife edge. I probably won’t get cut to shreds, but there’s still a chance of falling to certain doom.

The big issue of course is my writing. I’m so grateful to my editor at Big Star for understanding that I can’t take on heaps of work at a time, but it’s beyond frustrating to have to turn it down. I’m hopeful I can carry on with my Secret Severn work, but each visit takes more recovery, and the week of the trail will be a bigger challenge than expected. I get in a vicious circle when these patches happen – I can’t carry out basic care like making sure I’m taking in good nutrition, so I can’t get my body stronger to recover. It’s a pickle, and I’m hopeful it’ll be short lived.

As ever, your kind support makes a huge difference, and nothing is nicer than a random “how are you” in my in-box. Thank you for you continued care and for making me feel valuable. It’s quite lonely in this pretty place. Despite the wonder of owning the fluffiest cat in the world.