Tomorrow is my birthday.
Tonight I have got DRESSED for the first time in 9 days to mark the occasion (and possibly because MindReader's coming over in an hour and he perhaps deserves to have a girlfriend who wears dayclothes) I feel absolutely knackered from opening my drawers and am going to go and have a lie down, but still! Clothes!
I am trying not to be too bleak. I have perfected the art of napping (3.25 - 5pm), not shouting at MindReader and MadFather when I need help getting up the stairs, and feeling sorry for my body and its low platelet counts and other complaints so that I do pretty much whatever it tells me to. Today, it needed expensive Covent Garden Co. soup. What can you do but obey? :)
Also: it's hard to be bleak when you received 20 birthday cards today alone, and Haribo sweets through the post :)
Labels: illness, MindReader
Body is evil creature not deserving of my love.
Today was too tired to lift my head off pillow.
Tonight cannot sleep.
Have stupid ultrasound in 8 hours. Going to have to cancel if do not sleep soon otherwise will be zombie all week including my BIRTHDAY.
This sucks more than anything I have ever been through. There is especially no respite from my thoughts if my body won't sleep.
"Beep beep."
My eyes fly open.
For a moment I doze, wrapping MindReader's lovely smelling t shirt (that I stole) around me.
"Beep beep."
I look lazily at my phone. It does not appear to want anything. I close my eyes again.
"Beep beep."
I sit up, my head spinning. The beeping gets louder when I walk unsteadily out of my room.
I scratch my stomach, and, looking down, realise there is a label poking out of my pants.
I have my pants on backwards.
"Beep beep."
I sit down on the landing. What the hell
is that?
I follow the sound down the stairs, stopping in between beeps and twirling around uselessly.
The beeps are getting louder as I walk through the living room to the kitchen. I am poised in the kitchen waiting for the next beep. Then I shall have it!
It beeps. I stare at the counter. It is the PHONE. Oh! The phone has a low battery and wants everyone to know.
The doorbell rings. I open the door absentmindedly.
The FedEx man stares at me. Me, in my boyfriend's t-shirt and my age 9 pants on backwards.
"We don't need to discuss this," I say, gesturing to my body.
"So true," he says, and I sign for the parcel in silence.
Labels: embarrassing
Body is not much improving. As in, I saved up all of today's energy to stumble over here and write this (MadFather is back this evening complete with laptop - hurrah for blogging in bed!). This is fine. Body is spoilt brat and gets whatever it wants at the moment.
In the meantime I am going MAD and my BRAIN IS MELTING watching all of the trash on TV. Seriously. A couple look at three houses and choose their favourite? For ONE HOUR? A couple cannot sell their house, TV show come and paint their living room. A couple would like to move to Spain and speak English and not have to work. They buy a property. It doesn't work out how they thought. Quelle surprise!
So: what can I do lying (or, on a good day, sitting!) that is NOT WATCHING TRASH?
Labels: asking the internet, illness
"How're you?" DoctorSister says into the phone, as we both sink into our SEPARATE baths.
"Tired."
"Poor lady," she says. "Keep resting properly."
"I will," I say. And I am unable to resist. "So what is actually
happening in my body?"
"Well," she says. "You have two types of white blood cell. T and B. When a virus attacks your B cells politely ask your T cells if they've seen it before. If they have everyone starts multiplying like rabbits."
"I see," I say. "So they they just kill it?"
"Well, you also have Natural Killer Cells. They're like the football hooligans of the immune system. They basically kill anything unless it asks to be saved."
"I think you just made my blog."
Labels: illness
Well I did get to sleep (at like SIX) and slept til 1:30pm which was slightly surreal. By the time I got up MindReader had driven to Birmingham, sat a three and a half hour exam, and driven back again.
He has now gone until Sunday when he comes back to take me to have an ULTRASOUND on Monday morning. No I am not pregnant (I would have told you readers before anyone!); the Doctor is obsessed with why I get urinary tract infections almost constantly. I told her it's because my body's a bit preoccupied fighting something else off at the moment - but no - I have to go and drink FOUR PINTS of water and NOT PEE all morning!
Also ALSO, last night I stayed up for so long watching the ceiling that I actually crossed paths with MadFather who got up at 5:30 to go to London. I asked him conversationally, in my midnight and his morning, where his relaxation CD was (probably best not to ask). He handed me a few CD packets to look through. It was not there.
When MindReader got back this afternoon he said to me, "Why did you have 5 CD stacks around your bed last night? I thought you'd cracked!"
Thanks!!
Labels: illness, MindReader
Body will still not sleep. I can think of no reason. I am too tired to stand up. I did not nap today. I feel less anxious than I have in weeks.
I wish bodies would talk.
But I fear mine would moan quite a lot.
Labels: grumbles, illness
Dear Body,
Why can't you sleep? This is ridiculous. This is ALL YOU WANTED.
Billygean
Labels: grumbles, illness
"Okay," I say, sitting up from my duvet. "So I roll the dice, and whatever letter it shows, you have to fill out the list with things beginning with that letter. So for the first bit of the list, 'things that are sticky', you fill it in with a word beginning with that letter."
"Right," MindReader says, a hand casually on my knee.
"And if you can think of something
alliterative," MadFather says, "you get two points."
I roll the 26-sided (!) dice.
"The letter is F," I say, sipping my tea and feeling exhausted.
I start the timer and begin filling in my list. I leave out things that are sticky. The next item is famous landmarks. I write Figi before later learning it is a place. I then write 'fasteners' under 'things that fasten,' because I am a lawyer.
"How are you writing so much?" MindReader whispers.
"I am struggling with cosmetics," I say. "I can't think of ANY."
"Sticky cosmetics?" he says.
I stare at him.
And then we both realise.
"I'm not supposed to be thinking of 12 things that are sticky, am I?" MindReader says.
I am unable to contain my laughter. "What the
fuck is on your list?" I say, wiping my eyes.
"Figs, fresh figs, foals (when they're just born), faeces," he says.
Labels: illness, MindReader
Okay.
I had a few cries, lots of chocolate fondu, ordered books off Amazon and bath stuff and spent 2 days in bed.
I have some decisions to make over the next few weeks - if I am still not well in a few weeks I will have to defer and -
gasp - drop out. For now, I feel okay. Perhaps because MindReader has been here all week, cooking and putting baby lions on the TV for me whenever he sees me start to wallow. Possibly because - for now - all that matters is that I don't have to set my alarm and I'm finally giving my body what it wants.
Next week, we'll see.
Labels: illness, MindReader
I arrive down in the canteen at college. It is empty.
"You okay love?" CanteenLady says.
"No," I say, my throat tight. "I just walked out of my first exam because I'm not well enough to sit. And I don't have my purse and they won't let me back in to get it."
It's strange how things such as coffee seem to matter at times like these.
"Oh, love," she says, handing me a free coffee.
"And now," I say, realising I like to pour my heart out to strangers, "I can't travel this summer and my job will be delayed by 6 months and -"
She wordlessly puts her arms around me, and I cry for all I feel I've lost.
Labels: illness
Oh, Bloggers, last night MindReader cooked and it was fabulous. I was even in a good mood despite having locked myself in the doctor's and been told by the doctor that I should be over glandular fever by now.
He cooked:
Melon with Parma Ham
Poncy Chicken
And Glorious Eton Mess (aka. meringue, with some stuff!)
And he cooked for MadFather too, for he is single, without saying a word about it. And then we went to my room and lit candles and chatted for hours. And oh - it was delightful!
He's gone now again until Sunday. But - but! - on Monday we both have five exams (in five days), so he is to be here all week! What a treat! I am probably not going to go into the fact that I need to sleep for 20 hours wheneven I leave the house; the exams are not happening yet.
Labels: MindReader
Me: MindReader!
MindReader: Are you okay?
Me: No. I am TRAPPED.
MindReader: What?
Me: I'm at the Doctor's.
MindReader: I know, I wondered if-
Me: I have to give ANOTHER pee sample so they gave me these keys to go to the toilet. It was a yale lock.
[pause]
I've sort of... left the keys outside. And i'm locked in the loo!
MindReader: [laughter so loud I have to move phone away from my year]
[pause]
[still laughing] ring the receptionist!
Me: [smiling] you are rubbish.
---------------------------------------------------
Me: Er - hello. It's um, Billygean, I was just in the doctor's room.
Evil Receptionist: Oh, right.
Me: I'm sort of - trapped - in the toilet. Well not
in the toilet. I have - left the keys...
Evil Receptionist: I'll just send someone to get you.
Labels: blonde moments, embarrassing
"Hello," Chris - a Very Old Home Friend - says, giving me a cursory pat on the arm.
I let him into the house, going immediately to fill the kettle.
"I heard a rumour," he says, raising an eyebrow, "that you're sick, so I bring you..." he says, opening a brown paper bag. "Grapes, more interesting grapes," he says, setting a bottle of wine on the counter, "and lucozade, because I know you're addicted."
I smile broadly.
He looks at me. "You don't
look that sick," he says conversationally.
"It's all make-up," I say. "Trust me, I have very dark circles under my eyes."
He laughs. "So what's happened?"
"Well," I say, bored of the story. "I got flu twice. Then I got diagnosed with glandular fever, and pretty much since then for every hour I spend out of the house I have to spend 12 in bed."
"Wow," he says. "Are you sure it's not M.E?"
HUFF. Why do people keep SAYING this? It is NOT M.E it is GLANDULAR FEVER / MONO which is VERY WELL KNOWN for knocking people out for months. If you want me to get ME the way for me to do it would be for you to TELL ME I WILL! Huffs.
Labels: illness
"How was the insolvency class that I missed?" I say to A.
"Boring," he says. "And we didn't have our usual tutor."
"Oh," I say, "who did you have?"
"This guy called Matt."
I swoon a little. "I love him."
A raises an eyebrow. "Really?" he says. "He's
so sarcastic though."
I look at him a moment. "I date
MindReader," I say.
"Sorry," A says. "I forgot your type was sarcastic."
Labels: MindReader
It is ten to four. MindReader is leaving at four. My eyes dart to the clock and back to him and he smiles and pulls me closer.
We are on the sofa, my head on his chest, knees touching, his arms around my waist.
His nose pushes through my hair to my ear. "I love you," he whispers, as MadFather watches the TV, unaware.
He's gone now for the week, and I'm fine. But - it's just better when they're around, no?
Labels: MindReader
Most of the lessons I've had to learn over the past few years were quite simple: I should have talked more about my parents' divorce instead of drinking alcopops til 6 in the morning, and I should have not listened to scary library people when wandering around the silent wooden aisles and simply grabbed Shakespeare's unannotated works and sat down and let
him tell me what Hamlet was really about. I should have met OldTutor in first year and he might have given me some guidance rather than me having to pick up the pieces of a 2.1 in my final year.
But last year threw up some lessons that I am still not sure I have learnt the lessons from.
March saw the seemingly insignificant break up: me clutching a hankerchief, Mike's eyes on the clock, me wondering what to have for dinner. The next day we walked into University in the Spring rain and the only difference was that we did not hold hands. In some ways we did not know
how to break up. I did not know where he ended and I began.
April was the beginning - or the continuance - of MindReader. Of messenger chats into the small hours, and later, phone calls at dusk in my fields, sitting comfortably on a rock and wrapping a jumper around my cool shoulders. It was also the time when Mike - correctly suspicious, although I was single - invaded my privacy in ways I didn't know he would ever need to, phoned my in the middle of the night, my heart racing as I vomited after we hung up.
I felt in that month, that I no longer deserved happiness. April 14th was the first day of my life where I never, ever wanted to get out of bed, and only MadFather's blue eyes and wrinkly old arms could convince me to.
In the summer, everything warmed and bloomed. Happiness could be mine, and it was waiting in the form of MindReader. We escaped for a while to Italy, Gloucester, Norfolk, and his continuing support lapped at my feet like the warm green canals of Venice.
In July I moved in with my housemates; a new situation, a new mistake I would later have to rectify. We weren't suited. I roamed the house during the cool nights, wondering why I couldn't relax my hands, or leave my door unlocked. By October, all thoughts were consumed by this situation. I moved home again, and when I broke the news to the housemates their prickly reactions - three 20-something males reduced to door slamming, shouting - reminded me so sharply of Mike that I sucked my breath in. After the confrontation, MindReader let me wipe my nose on his jumper, and we went and sat by the canal and ate cinder toffee whilst I cried.
In November and December the "illness" struck, strange nigglings, out of breath from stairs, needing to nap in Starbucks that later turned into this thing I'm still shaking now. I may look back fondly on these days of getting up at noon, watching TV whilst my hair sticks up, eating more vitamins than I thought possible and turning my poops black with iron tablets, but not at the moment - it is too soon, too real.
I do not know what I have learnt from these experiences.
Maybe, if you love another, leave, if there is even half a chance that 9 months later you are kissing under the Arc de Triomphe. Do not be too hard on yourself if you end up caught in a relationship so dead it is easier to stay than to leave it. And do not beat yourself up if it takes another person - however subconsciously - to make you realise.
Do not move in with people if you think it won't work. Try not to blame them when they are hurt and angry and ultimately, good people. Try not to blame yourself if your stomach is in constant knots and you simply have to leave a situation.
Do not push yourself, and always have to be the best. If you need to nap, nap immediately. If your glands are so big that it hurts to turn your head, maybe don't go into college.
I'm not sure what I would have done differently. I think I may have written about it sooner.
Labels: illness, reminiscing
I smile inwardly at a text from MindReader.
"I have left a urinary sample bottle in your car!" I had text, meaning I had forgot to take it.
"Thanks," MindReader had replied, with a wink.
"Look after him," MadFather says, looking directly at me.
"Huh?" I say.
"What you and MindReader have," MadFather says, sipping his whiskey, as the late-night rain pounds the black windows, "it's fine, and rare."
I smile proudly. "Thanks," I say.
"If I had to sum it up," MadFather says, and then, "hang on a second."
He pads out of the room, his new belly hanging slightly over his trousers.
"Hemingway said," he says, sitting back down, "that his best work was a short story of just 6 words. He said 'For sale: baby shoes, never worn'."
I nod slowly.
"Mine would be 'still searching for a soulmate,'" he says.
"That's 5 words," I say, ever the lawyer. "Soulmate is one word."
"Okay. Still searching for a purple soulmate."
Labels: Dad, MindReader
"Also," I say to the pharmacist, "I need some verruca treatment."
It pains me to say it, it really does. How on
earth I got a verruca in the period of my life where I have spent the least time with the general public is beyond me.
"Oh, right," she says, probably eyeing my suit. "Is it for your child?"
I am offended. Do I look so obviously of childbearing age?
"No, actually," I say smirking. "It's for my foot."
Labels: illness, MindReader
"Tall soy latte," I say to StarbucksMan.
I am on my way to my advocacy assessment, and consequently very fidgity. I have not read the case properly BECAUSE I AM ILL but law school do not view this as a good excuse.
I fuss about with my purse when I realise a £2 coin is now not enough for a coffee. He hands me the latte as I finish faffing.
"Thank you," I say.
"Bye," he says. "Billygean."
My head snaps up, and he smiles at me.
I place a finger to my lips, and secretly celebrate at being RECOGNISED.
Labels: law
"And now cross examination for the defence," the Magistrate says.
I stand up, a grip the table for support. I am still ill. And there was an accident on the m6 so I was 45 minutes late. I sip my lemsip and the prosecution lawyer smirks.
"Mr Smith," I say, looking up at the witness. He is tall and balding, and thinks my lovely little defendant stole from him.
"Was it crowded on your market stall on the day in question?"
"No," he says, meeting my eyes.
I clear my throat. "Yet in paragraph 2 of your witness statement you say it was the last shopping Saturday before Christmas and the street was crowded."
"Yes. The street was."
"And your stall was on the street."
"Yes," he says pushing his sleeves up.
"So you admit it was crowded?"
"Yes," he says, a sigh escaping.
"And would a crowd not impair your ability to identify the defendant?"
"Yes."
"Right," I say, straightening my papers and smiling. "Describe the stolen bracelet."
"Well - it was gold and worth about £30."
"So you got a good look at it?" I say.
"Oh yes," he says, drawn in.
"And how long was the thief at your stall for?"
"I don't know. Not long."
"And in that time you were looking at the bracelet?"
"No I got a good look at him," he says, fidgiting.
"And yet," I say, lifting my papers. "You can't tell me what he was wearing?"
"No."
"So is it not at
all possible," I say, "that you have made a mistake?"
"Yes. It's possible," he says.
"No further questions," I say, breathing out and sitting down.
I allow myself a small smile as I realise I am, momentarily, exactly where I want to be.
"Aah," I say, sipping my tea and snuggling further into MindReader's embrace as we watch Animal Planet. "A donkey."
He smiles.
"I love donkeys," I say. "They're so much better than horses and ponies."
"Really, why?"
"They have old eyes. And they're so grumpy."
"How do you know that?"
"Eeyore was a donkey because his character was grumpy."
"No," MindReader says smirking. "Eeyore was a donkey because both of his parents were."
Labels: MindReader
