Just Keep Moving
I’d been feeling tired all week, but yesterday at lunch time, my finger tips started tingling, not a good sign. By 13:00 I’d taken pain killers to keep me going and to be able to drive, by 14:00 I was struggling to keep my thoughts straight but hung on for an important chat with Matt. By the time I got home at 3:30 I wasn’t safe to drive to the hospital, so I got Jennie to take me. After my appointment I barely managed the 5 minute walk home.
Living with unpredictability like this is hard, mostly I just take the risk but that’s not always wise. My eldest daughter is planning a year in Japan after graduating, Debbie would like to take a holiday to visit, but I’m not keen. Two very long flights, two crippling time zone changes, and public transport in one of the noisiest, busiest places on the planet is likely to be a flare inducing, expensive non-holiday. I vote for Skype Video chat, paying her plane fare home for Christmas and the grandeur and quiet of holidays in the Lake District.
This morning when I woke up I felt badly bruised and exhausted, but I know from experience that it’s vital to keep moving at times like this. I hobbled (on tender feet, swollen Achilles tendons and grinding knees) the 1/2 mile to the Beach Terrace Cafe, almost failed to make the mile walk back into town (thank goodness for the Dalmeny Hotel half way rest) and collapsed (literally) in my ‘reserved’ window seat at Caffe Nero. Maybe I under-estimated how exhausted I was, you can walk through the pain, but when you can’t lift your legs there aren’t many options. Fortunately I knew Jennie was only a phone call and a couple of minutes away.
When I’m brain fogged like this I can’t really read anything complex but I can still scan read and read easy fiction. I can’t do Sudoku puzzles though. I’m pleased that I can write this blog post, although correcting all the spelling mistakes is taking a long time, and my finger tip pain makes it hard work.
But it’s important to keep going, keep moving, keep reminding myself, that if I do – tomorrow will almost certainly be better. Oh and I get to eat cake