A Viral Delay

For the last few days, I have been revisited by the body-crushing virus that I have christened ‘The Boomerang Virus’.
(Because it keeps coming back of course)

It has a distinct combination of symptoms, and once they appear, there is no mistake that it has returned.

Hot, painful, and watery eyes.
High temperature followed by feeling ice cold.
Weakness, tiredness, and lethargy.
A sore throat that feels like broken glass.
Random coughing fits that can last for up to fifteen minutes.

Yesterday, I was in bed for almost 20 of the available 24 hours. And for 16 of those 20 hours, I was asleep, in something akin to a feverish coma. I only emerged to take Ollie for a 90-minute walk, and later to eat dinner. I am taking the usual shop-bought medications to reduce the effects of a runny nose, and a headache that feels like an Eagle’s claw around my skull. They are helping a little, but I suspect it must be left to run its course, like the last time I had it. Meanwhile, much of my normal life has been put on hold, not unlike waiting for a delayed train, on a windy station platform.

So many people now have this here, that I am beginning to wonder if it is biological warfare, gone wrong.

I am unable to concentrate on anything for too long. So no reading, very little TV, and no long sessions on the blogs. Sitting in my office chair for more than an hour is too uncomfortable, and lack of enthusiasm and energy means that nothing else gets done at all.

To everyone who is awaiting the next part of my current fiction serial, I apologise. I haven’t been up to writing it, sorry to say.

If I feel better later tonight, which seems unlikely at the moment, I will try to get it done.

Late summer lethargy

As the shortest summer I can ever remember draws to a close, I am beginning to anticipate our short holiday in Kent, in early September. The change of scene, and the time spent together, will make for a welcome break from routine. Despite many dry days recently, and a return of the warmer weather we enjoyed in late May, it has been a summer that passed without notice. Heavy rain throughout July lost us one of the months, and most of June wasn’t that memorable either. So far, August has been marked by a lot of grey, heavy sky, uncomfortably warm nights, and the constant threat of rain that rarely appears.

Since being laid low recently by the virus of some kind, I have not really got back on my feet, or returned to the form before the short period of feeling unwell. I am still tired after a good sleep overnight, and I feel as if I have no energy at all. Routine jobs have become a bind, and even Ollie’s walks have been tiresome, and less paced, with me seeking out benches to sit on more than I ever did before. As a result, those jobs inside and outside the house have started to pile up. Despite resolving daily to do this, or tackle that, nothing is getting done. Getting up earlier to allow more time to do them hasn’t helped at all. I have simply felt tired for longer. Even the prospect of my few hours at the windmill on Friday seems like a daunting task, instead of a pleasant morning out.

The hedges are overdue a cut. Growing fast after the rain, they appear unkempt and shabby. The back patio needs weeding, as the small green shoots have now grown into fully-formed plants between the gaps in the slabs. Garden furniture needs sanding and staining, ready for the coming change in the seasons, and the grass has suddenly popped up again, with the lawn resembling a wild meadow. In nine days time, we have visitors from my family. I am not about to present them with their first sight of our house in this condition, so I going to have to seriously raise my game, starting this weekend. Perhaps once I get started, I might rediscover some of the lost energy. I can only hope so.

It is a shame that I am not a famous artist, or bohemian writer. If I was, I could retire to a chaise longue, and place the back of my hand against my forehead, as I gaze listlessly through the window.

Then others would say it was ‘ennui.’

Unfit for duty

After posting about being too hot or too cold yesterday, last night saw me having to retire to bed when it was still light outside. I had felt a little strange all day, with aches and pains around my hips and back, and had already taken some pain-killers, to be able to take Ollie for a walk. The unrelenting damp had affected the joints in my hands, and I couldn’t seem to get comfortable, in any position.

By early evening, I also had a splitting headache. I couldn’t concentrate on my nightly news fix on TV, and after cooking and eating the evening meal, I was soon checking the clock, to see if it was too early to call it a day, and collapse into bed. Just before 9 pm, I took some more tablets, apologised to Julie, and went to bed, securing the chinks in the curtains against the light from the garden. I must have had something wrong with me, as I slept right through, without any disturbance, until 8.30 this morning.

I woke up feeling as if tiny evil goblins had spent all night hitting me with their little hammers. Every bone and joint aches, and I am walking like a 100 year-old lady. There is something lurking inside me, some unnamed virus, only staved off by nearly twelve hours of sleep. My head feels wobbly, and barely attached to my body. If it had nuts and bolts securing it, Frankenstein monster-style, I would definitely be tightening them up by a few turns. One thing is certain, I won’t be getting much done today.

In 2013, I wrote this post, about how it feels to be ‘off sick’, when you are not actually working.
https://beetleypete.wordpress.com/2013/02/19/reporting-sick/ After a lifetime of having to call in a sick report, to a manager or company, it feels very different when you only have yourself to answer to. There will be no ‘phone calls from someone supposedly ‘checking on my welfare.’ No callers at the door, to ensure that I am actually at home, and nobody to have to see afterwards, for the ‘back to work interview.’ With no more six-monthly appraisals to endure, I will not have to listen to a list of all my days taken off sick, and whether they were certificated or not. There will be no dire warnings about exceeding acceptable sick time, or perhaps not being paid on the next occasion.

Despite being free of all this, I still feel absolutely awful, so it doesn’t help that much. I will still have to take Ollie out, though for a shorter time than usual. I then have to drive him over to the Vet in Swaffham, for a review of his skin problems. I have also just cancelled my shift at the windmill tomorrow, as I can’t face the stairs, feeling like this. The first time I haven’t turned up in six months, so not bad.

I’ll just have to take more tablets.