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I've had that awful cold-coming-on feeling for about a month. It finally caught up with me, and I've spent another two lovely days at home in agony. This is after I took two days off the other week to get some rest - the object being that this wouldn't happen.
So once again I'm looking at the long term not working possibility.
Of course. I've finally become more or less reconciled to being stuck in this job; plus it finally pays me enough money to more or less be worth it. What with car payments, we really need my income now too. I'll probably be able to struggle on, but work is made a lot more difficult by my many absences.
Ever since I moved to Bristol (because I thought it would be good for my health - ha!) I've been steadily getting sicker. I thought I had no life outside work three years ago, and now I look on that amount of awake time with envy. For the god knows how long I've been going to bed about 8 every night, which leaves not a lot of time to do anything constructive. Apologies to everyone I owe email, work, birthday cards or telephone calls.
The scary part is that I'm getting steadily less articulate. I just have this huge blank in my mind whenever I try to express myself. At this rate I'm going to have a 600 word vocabulary by next year. This is the part of my illness that none of my doctors have ever taken seriously - I'm still smarter than most people, so I should just shut up and enjoy getting stupid.
On top of this I'm having increased problems travelling. We went to London a few weeks ago and that trip wore me right out. (And I have always made fun of people who find travel tiring). The last couple transatlantic flights have nearly killed me (though the last one was so bad Jason nearly didn't survive either). Whitby is going to be interesting.
I'm finding it most annoying that now I'm having trouble with the two things that have always been the biggest priority in my life: reading/ writing and travel. Especially as I finally have enough money to do some travelling.
So - um - I don't really have a point, I just wanted to moan. And point out why I've dropped off the face of the earth.
So once again I'm looking at the long term not working possibility.
Of course. I've finally become more or less reconciled to being stuck in this job; plus it finally pays me enough money to more or less be worth it. What with car payments, we really need my income now too. I'll probably be able to struggle on, but work is made a lot more difficult by my many absences.
Ever since I moved to Bristol (because I thought it would be good for my health - ha!) I've been steadily getting sicker. I thought I had no life outside work three years ago, and now I look on that amount of awake time with envy. For the god knows how long I've been going to bed about 8 every night, which leaves not a lot of time to do anything constructive. Apologies to everyone I owe email, work, birthday cards or telephone calls.
The scary part is that I'm getting steadily less articulate. I just have this huge blank in my mind whenever I try to express myself. At this rate I'm going to have a 600 word vocabulary by next year. This is the part of my illness that none of my doctors have ever taken seriously - I'm still smarter than most people, so I should just shut up and enjoy getting stupid.
On top of this I'm having increased problems travelling. We went to London a few weeks ago and that trip wore me right out. (And I have always made fun of people who find travel tiring). The last couple transatlantic flights have nearly killed me (though the last one was so bad Jason nearly didn't survive either). Whitby is going to be interesting.
I'm finding it most annoying that now I'm having trouble with the two things that have always been the biggest priority in my life: reading/ writing and travel. Especially as I finally have enough money to do some travelling.
So - um - I don't really have a point, I just wanted to moan. And point out why I've dropped off the face of the earth.
