I am still ill. It is so tedious and makes me a bore. Someone asked how my leg was yesterday and I began trying to race through my reply, aware of how dreary and dull my answer was. For those of you who care to know, my Pyoderma Gangrenosum is healing but very, very slowly. I saw the consultant last week and the PG has shrunk by 1 c.m. I have a deep ache in my leg which is because I have accompanying inflammation of the fatty tissue. Nice. I have been prescribed another couple of months worth of antibiotics. On top of that I have endometriosis and am always at the mercy of my cycle. Things have got increasingly weird in my body, and now when I have a period my eyesight gets fucksy and bloodshot, my back and hips ache, my feet hurt, my body bloats and swells, I get a headache that lasts for several days. The exhaustion I feel is of the put-my-face-down-on-the-floor-and-sleep-wherever-the-hell-I-am variety.
I am embarrassed and ashamed of being ill. Like I am failing in my duties as a human somehow. I vow to eat well, exercise, be a better person, as if that will become a useful bargaining tool. Actually the Pyoderma began when I was exercising daily, cycling for the first time in years, walking a lot, watching what I ate.
I haven’t been writing. It becomes impossible to as my brain becomes fudgy. I am trying very hard to shut up my customary inner voice, the one that berates me for being a lazy, fat fuck. I am telling it to sod off because actually, this isn’t procrastination, this is disease.
So. A catch up of tedium. It’s all I’ve got right now.