creep… bounce! creep… bounce! creep… creep… bounce! bounce! bounce!
I let out a hngnghhh as he lands smack-bang in the middle of my stomach.
“Come on hyper-cat: Through to the other room.”
G comes back through and I doze off as we snuggle. I’m woken again by him getting up.
“Whrs my cdl?”
“I’ve been cuddling you for the last two hours!”
“You were asleep”
He frees the fluffy menace and starts up a game on the computer; I watch him play through sleepy eyes. It feels like I’ve just pulled two all-nighters on a project; that overwhelming exhaustion you get, seeping down from your head into your bones. G’s suddenly not at the computer anymore; the microwave just went off, so I figure it must be lunch-time. The screen is burning my eyes, so I put on my blindfold and roll over. I hear G come back, apparently just in time to save me from a fierce lion attack.
“Thsis your bdinfluence, hsmuch better behaved whnyou’re atwrk.” The food smells gooood. I drift back off.
The computer shutting down wakes me up again. G comes over for a cuddle, which turns into a fierce battle with the still-hyperactive cat. Apparently, it’s half past two. I still feel nauseous from yesterday (combine this with ME’s effect on periods and hormones in general to get the perfect recipe for constant-pregnancy-scares) so I request some lunch. More energy is expended trying to protect it from the cat than in actually eating it – he found out about margarine, and is now obsessed with stealing bread in the hopes that it comes lathered in the stuff.
I check email, comics, forum, and spend the rest of the afternoon lying down, sunglasses on, watching internet TV. My back is sore from sitting up yesterday. The streamed shows really tire me out, but I can’t face doing nothing for another day; I’d rather be exhausted and actually have something to occupy my mind. As well as documentaries, I like some comedies, and a few crime dramas – I haven’t quite sunk to reality TV yet, but we’re getting there. I never used to watch that much tele, actually – I would read books upon books, maybe several a week. I’ve been engaged in my current reading matter for two or three months though; I can only take in a few pages at a time before it doesn’t make sense anymore and the paperback is too heavy for me to be holding up, anyway. I might progress better with something a little less wordy, but we’re getting there. On good days, I spend far too much time translating what the abstracts of scientific papers mean so that other people with this can understand them. I usually manage one every couple of weeks.
What else did I used to do? Video games – I remember being able to play something for a whole day, but now half an hour gives me a blinding headache and longer than that knocks me out for a good while. Even the Sims seems a little challenging for my level. I liked Warhammer and tabletop RPGs – I used to be a Dungeon Master but I don’t think I could manage one character safely any more, let alone the whole game! Tactical things like that are just totally beyond me – my mind fogs up and gets rid of any hope of focusing. I occasionally play board games with G’s friends, but it makes me feel fluey and leaden, and I can’t function the next day. I miss all the things I used to do. Now I spend my time browsing the net aimlessly, watching mindless TV and chatting to the few people who still go on MSN. Anything that engages my mind just drains it, sucking out the power from my half-charged brain-cells like an old smartphone with GPS left on.
I’ve taken up new hobbies though! TV; the forum; writing a blog. I learned to knit and crochet too – I can do it lying down, although too much or too often is still a killer. I feel useful again, making baby clothes for the endless supply of adorable sprogs produced by our church. They’re so small and sweet, and the clothes are much more manageable to produce – it would take forever to make something for me to wear, but a baby hat can be done in a few days. I love the bright colours, the cute designs, the miniature items you end up with and the smiling gurglers that wear them! There are a few people who exchange e-mails and letters with me on a regular basis – I get one once or twice a week, and can spend hours thinking about what to respond. I’d prefer to be able to write back by hand, but a minute or two with a pen cripples me, and my handwriting has evolved from a beautiful clean flow into the aftermath of attack of the spider-zombies.
I’ve also, of course, acquired a cat; although G has to do all the hard work for that one.
I decide to try making dinner for once, and a cup of tea too. My current speciality is microwave-meals, although I can do oven-based ready-meals too if I need to. While the first plastic box heats up, I pour some water in the kettle, careful not to fill it any more than I need to; the last time the kettle was over-filled, there was spilling and scalding and water heading everywhere except it’s proposed destination. I sit down on the floor while I’m waiting for everything to finish, gently stretching my legs. It’s about the most strenuous exercise I can manage, nowdays. The microwave beeps and I carry through the dinner to G; he appears both delighted and impressed with my achievements. Thank you God that I’m not entirely useless. I’m too tired to make my dinner now though: I go back to bed and he fetches me my tea, then eats his dinner while mine cooks.
I chose lasagne, so he sits on the bed next to me and cuts it all up. Usually I try to cut one piece off myself, in a stubborn effort to retain my pride, but I’m too tired for that tonight. Thank you God that I can still feed myself. Thank you that I don’t need a tube. Tibby does his best to get a bit when I’m not looking, but I’m wise to his games.Mine! He eventually curls up, biding his time until the tub is empty and unguarded, and he might be able to sneak a lick around the edge of it.
I lie back and amuse the kitten for a while with a lazer-pointer, watching him dance around the bedroom after the fiendish dot. Eventually I can’t grip it anymore; I throw him a bottle cap and he amuses himself again. A friend has come online, so we chat for a while; then G needs to sleep, and the normal bedtime routine ensues. It’s spring, but I’m freezing cold – when my foot brushes G’s he yelps and moves away. An hour later, I’m boiling up and everything comes off (hands and feet still their usual feared icicles, though). My constant on-off-on-off routine with the blankets can’t be helping G sleep: Tibby got fed up with it long ago, and is snoring away under the bed. Eventually I get comfortable, and drift off to sleep.