Nov 5

 Very ill. I've been fighting with nausea on and off again for sometime. I had previously even stated I was going to make an extra effort to get my prebiotics, probiotics, things to try and improve my digestion.

Yesterday I ate, nothing dramatic, mash potatoes, beans. And like often, I become ill after eating. This time. Really ill. Awful nausea. Dreadful tiredness. I could feel my eyes sucking into my head again. That very odd feeling of hollow eyes. Weak. Shakes. Uh huh. This was all the symptoms dialled up.

I retreated to bed. And passed much of the evening feeling awful. Really awful. It didn't pass. It has stayed with me. Lessening in intensity. I slept long.

Today I have woken up feeling like I have a flu. But not a flu. Tired. Blurry. Difficult to think over the nausea. And a low pain.

This is the at this point perennial misery with my digestion. Same place. Same feeling. Something is wrong. But. I am just living with it. Today I have eaten very sparingly. An apple. Apples are I have found one of the gentlest things I can eat. They don't seem to make things worse. Everything else is variable. The worse it is, the less it takes to make it worse.

I am not bothering to talk to the NHS about it. Why would I ? To be dismissed again with a handful of pills ? With some vague shit excuse of it "being a long process". Meaning. A long process through a bureaucratic, lazy, uncaring health service.

And here is me unable to sit upright at a computer. I can't do it. It makes me feel so ill. So I go to bed. I don't have the energy to bother with an indifferent health service. 

I am tired. I have hardly been able to work today. I slumped out in the morning. Struggled to do a task in the afternoon. And slumped out again. I am not berating myself. I feel terrible. And exhausted. A sick day. If you like. A more sick than usual day perhaps.

Yesterday, unusually, mid misery, my sister sent a message. How was I doing today. Worried perhaps about how I was on Monday.

It took me sometime to reply. Because. I couldn't rouse myself from my ill slump. Awake. But. Not able really to move. I dragged myself upright. A short reply. Tired. Nauseous. Ill. Numb. It's so much more than that. But.

It is now evening. A thundering headache has added to my joys. Probably just a sign of a body out of kilter. A headache on top of it is par for the course, another blinking light - if you needed one - that shit is not right.

I am nursing a very ragged capability to sit half upright, half slumped. And type. And just about pull thoughts into a row. I am not entirely sure what to do with myself. More than anything. I just want to sleep. Again. More. It is my default. Escape the pain by sleeping when I can. It has more chance than anything else to help.

Today in the bathroom. Ill. Awful. I looked at the bath tub. I could. Just end it. This is a horrible existence. Right now. You would be free of nausea and pain. That would be. Better. It would. I could. I can feel that line. It calls to me. See. How much this makes sense. Pain isn't good right. Just. End it. At this point, those who knew, wouldn't blame you. This is an arc. A well signposted arc. Of ill health. You read about it. In obituaries. Passing away. After a difficult number of years with ill health.

Ho hum.

I will try eating a little this evening. I hope it doesn't make things worse.

And sleep. And sleep. And sleep. Until it's all better. All of it.

Is that likely ? 

Another message sits on my phone. Unanswered. A voice message. I cannot drag the wellness or energy up to click on it and listen. The hours pass. I cannot respond. Sweet ever loving fuck. An exhausted puddle of illness.