When I feel well, as I did earlier this week I invariably go through the mental process of "Maybe there's not much wrong with me. I may be making a fuss for nothing. After all, I am 56 and nobody can be 21 for ever. I should just go and look for a job like ATOS wants me to."
Once a month between three monthly check-ups the dog's repeat prescription has to be picked up from the vet. Often I ask my half-sister to pick them up for me on her way home from her weekly overnight stay with her friend. It only takes her 5 minutes off her route so is no trouble. But, once again, we've had a row and I don't want to ask her. At least this time my Dad admitted he was aware of her baiting me so I'm not left with the usual double wound.
Back to the topic in hand. I decided as I was feeling well enough to get the bus that goes closest and walk the half mile or so to get to the vet (this is where I get paranoid that ATOS have been allowed by the government to hack the data-base and read that 'half-mile - then it's job seekers for me forever more. Read on ATOS if you're listening - I forgot, they never listen so nothing to worry about there). When I think of that walk, I was really just thinking of the first bit which is a straight line for about half a mile. I forgot about all the twists and turns and the final up-hill grind that makes it a couple of miles in all. The exact distance I walked to and from work for a couple of years listening to Dot Alison and Death in Vegas - music aimed at people at least 10 years younger - not only was I fit, I was cool too.
I got to the end of the first straight feeling breathless and with pains in my calves. By the time I got to the vet I was close to tears, wishing I could afford a taxi into town because there's no seat at the bus stop. I really wanted the receptionist to ask me if I was OK so that I could whine like a child and tell her how bad I felt. I could have lain down on the floor of the vet's waiting room with it's smell of cheap but deadly disinfectant mixed with unmentionable things.
By the time I got home to my dad's I could barely speak, slept from 6 until about midnight on the sofa, went to bed and slept until 5 pm the yesterday. I managed to fall asleep ago around midnight last night so got up at 9.30 just in time for my lovely befriender - yes, befriender - but that's another blog.
Ever since I got back to my Dad's on Wednesday, every waking moment has been filled with sadness for the loss of the ability to walk a couple of miles and with it - what feels like the loss of my whole life. I'll perk up again, but why don't I learn that I have fibro, I do this over and over again! I just don't want it. It can buzz off - is the politest thing I can say!