This week Dougie came to attack my feet. No, I lie, he came to cut my toenails, it’s just that sometimes it feels as though my feet are being attacked as they are ultra sensitive. I have always had very ticklish feet but now they are even more so. They say that one cannot tickle oneself, well, let me tell you, that’s nonsense! I have always been able to tickle my own feet but now, I can’t help but tickle them. Putting on a pair of shoes or slippers is a nightmare as my feet jump about all over the place whenever they come into contact with the material of the footware. So, you will understand that when Dougie cuts my toenails it tickles me a lot. [Having my toenails cut = Positive. Ticklish feet = Negative.]
Whilst Dougie was here we chatted, as you do. During our conversation he said that one of the things he likes about me is that I am always positive and upbeat. [Positive.]
Now, some people who know me well will be amazed by Dougie’s comment as I don’t think I tend to be like that. However, during my recent, rapid deterioration I actually have been fairly positive and upbeat. [Another Positive.] FPR has tended to be quite negative in his outlook [Negative] (although part of that is probably due to his endogenous depression), but I have not taken on board that negativity [Positive]. I feel that, if I do, it will drag me down to places I don’t want to go.
This week has been different.
This week I have been feeling very down about how I am. At the moment, everything I do is an effort. Getting myself up out of bed and abluted (is that a word?) is an effort. Getting downstairs is an effort. Going to the toilet is an effort. Making a drink is an effort. Walking is an effort. Getting up from the sofa, bending to pick something up, turning over in bed, eating dinner, walking more than a few steps. And, as for going upstairs, that takes a nightmarish amount of effort.
And, all the effort that is needed is getting me down. I’m fed up wth struggling to get up from a dining chair. Fed up with having to rest after I have dressed because it has exhausted me. Fed up with being too exhausted to make or consume breakfast after I have descended the stairs to face the day. Fed up with not being able to carry things up or downstairs because otherwise I am likely to fall; with everything taking two, three or even four times as long to do as it did less than a year ago; struggling to stand by the worktop for long enough to be able to dish up our dinner: yes, I know I could use a perching stool but I’m fed up with being in such a state that I need to even think about having one! I am simply fed up with my lot. I know that very many people are worse off then I am, but that doesn’t make it any easier for me to tolerate my situation this week.
I think one of the main reasons that I am so fed up is that, because of the nature of my condition, I don’t know whether it is temporary or permanent. Consequently, I don’t know if it is worth getting myself a wheeled-walker or a wheelchair, as I don’t know if either or both might become redundant very soon.
Another reason I am fed up is that, for more than a year, I have been looking forward to helping at and attending a particular cultural festival which took place over this past week. However, I simply wasn’t able to get to any of the events. Either the venue was too far from parking facilities, or I was too fatigued to go. So, I have been sorely disappointed and frustrated.
I am hoping that this fed-up-ness is transitory as I don’t much like how it feels, but it has helped to get it off my chest.
Normal service will be resumed next week… I hope.