The last three days have been good ones! This was after my worst five days for ages (thanks NHS consultant for three days of that!) I even went out for dinner with friends Saturday for an hour and a half and I still felt good! Hell, I went to a National Trust property with my husband today and had a small wander around the grounds (although they did allow us to park in the disabled car park!). Certainly by this afternoon I was tired but still better than I had been in weeks! I feel so excited by this.
I know I’m being foolish and there is little doubt that this joy will come crashing down soon but I feel so hopeful that this is the beginning of the end. I haven’t had three such good days in a row since all of this began. Who can blame me for feeling hope. If things are going to start getting better, it’s going to happen eventually, it has to! I’ve even allowed myself to dream about slowly returning to teaching after Easter!
I feel so good today that oddly I’m feeling very guilty. I feel like I was scamming all those good people who really have M.E., that really suffer every day. I feel like I’ve been pretending to be as ill as I’ve been
I have chosen to write today though perhaps I shouldn’t have. I have done it however in short stages and have slept in between. The quality is appalling but I felt it was a chance to show the immediate reality of boom and bust
Arrogance comes with a fall. Suddenly last night I wasn’t even able to carry my plate into the sitting room for dinner. I wasn’t even able to pick it up. Trying to do so resulted in tears. My husband tried to force me to eat but I couldn’t. I simply didn’t have the energy to put my fork to my mouth and swallow.
I struggled into bed and lay there in a daze. My friend called me and I ignored my own dos from yesterday’s blog. I spoke to him for 40 mins despite feeling increasingly dizzy and ill. I should have hung up but I didn’t want to.
On hanging up, I collapsed into hysterical tears, tears of frustration, anger and despair. For the last three days I had arrogantly assumed I was better than I was, I had allowed myself to have hope. This collapse dramatically proved that I was wrong, that it wasn’t the beginning of the end: it was just M.E. I had made excuses about doing more than I should, allowed myself to believe that because I was getting better, it was okay.
Now Monday morning I lie in bed, in pain having failed to sleep much throughout the night. I’m clock watching until I can take my next Ibuprofen.
Shame on me for forgetting I have a seriously fluctuating illness. Shame on me for ignoring my husband when he told me to do less. I allowed myself to get excited and now I’ve been bitten in the bum by this silly illness.
I must now focus on being grateful for three good days, keep the hope that it might happen again. More importantly I must be on my guard more about doing too much. I must try not to fall into the boom and bust followed by Post Exertional Malaise trap again. I must listen to my husband when he says, “No!” I must follow my own rules!