Dire
I was awakened by agonised howling at about 6 am. Staggered downstairs to let them out and then–don’t ask me how, but I’m sure the 6 am comes into it–I managed to tread in some of it in the process of picking up what I could and hosing down the rest. Didn’t discover this till I came indoors again . . . so it was kind of a while before I could go back to bed. (Hellhounds of course came in, heaved a happy sigh of relief, and crashed out again immediately.)
And I feel like death on soggy toast. I feel a whole hell of a lot worse, indeed, than a couple of missed hours of sleep can explain. Siiiiiiiiigh. And I was remembering How It All Began: I’m a classic ME case. I had the regularly recurring glandular fever (mononucleosis) for two years, which I refused to take seriously, and every time I had it and got over it I thought ‘okay, finally, it’s gone now’ and of course it wasn’t. And after two years of this the ME said ‘we did warn you’ and nailed me. To the sofa for eighteen months.
Even the glandular fever was classic: I had flu, but it came with a sore throat that was like knives, which is not how I get flu, and I remember having a furious argument with Peter about something which I had to WRITE my side of because I couldn’t speak. I remember slashing through the paper . . . and laughing (silently) because it’s very difficult to keep up being furious when you’re ripping it out in illegible shorthand, so Peter would pick it up and say, ‘”and your mother wears”- what? I can’t read that bit’. But the flu kept coming back. I had it for a week or two or three and it seemed to clear up, and then a week or two or three later it would come back. And with it came this weird exhaustion. Being ill does make you tired–it’s your body’s way of saying shut up and lie down–but this had all kinds of strange resonances. Which have since become only too familiar but they were novel and alarming at the time.
After about two months of this I took my saggy self off to the doctor.* And while there isn’t an incontrovertible test for ME there’s a perfectly good blood test for glandular fever. I’d indeed had my suspicions, because I’d had glandular fever–which is to say mono, because I’d been in the States then–twenty years before, and while I didn’t remember the quality of the tiredness I remembered there was a weird exhaustion involved. And, lo and behold, the test came back positive. And I, poor fool, was relieved. Glandular fever is a big stupid nuisance but it’s not fatal, it’s quite real enough to rescue you from any accusations of either madness or malingering, and eventually it does get bored and go away. Last time, you know, it did go away–it didn’t thump and bludgeon on the rest of the way into ME/CFS.
Peter, who didn’t know any better either, was amused at my relief, as he brought me champagne and whippets on the sofa, and he wrote me a poem. I’ve had it on one of my office bulletin boards ever since, including through the eighteen months of sofa time after the ME’s dramatic arrival and a traumatic house move, and I still read it and it still, absurdly, cheers me up. Some time this last month while the ME has been such a menace I pulled it off its bulletin board and started carrying it around with me, because I was going to post it for you. Today’s the day.**
Ode to an Ailment
For weeks I have felt like an under-achiever.
I have lacked all the bounce of a golden retriever
And moped round the house, a mere groaner and griever.
Though in orthodox medicine I’m no believer,
I went to the doctor. Was she a reliever!
She said, “Dearie me, you have glandular fever.”
I have a disease! Not a husband-bereaver,
But a dear little, mild little glandular fever.
It is real. So I am not a sympathy-thiever,
Not a weakling or a wimp, not a self-centred diva***
Nor a hypochondriacal fantasy-weaver.
No more at my desk I will toil like a beaver,
But lie on the sofa and watch Ralph the Riever†
And really enjoy having glandular fever.
(All right, yes I know it is called Ralph the Rover
You can tell me all that sort of thing when it’s over.)
And now I’m going to go lie on the sofa with hellhounds for a while. And Peter can bring me chocolate and champagne. And then I’m going to go to bed. Really early.
* * *
* This was the doctor I would stop going to see, and pretty well swear off all doctors as a result of the last-straw comment of, two years later when she said ‘Oh, I don’t believe in ME. Some viruses just take longer to get over than others.’
** You won’t find this one in Peter’s poetry collection The Weir either.
*** This rhyme works perfectly well in British English.
† Well. Buffy and Deep Space Nine. But they don’t rhyme.
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That poem cheered me up. I’m off to the doc for bloodtests tomorrow, which means that from *right now* I’m not allowed to eat or drink.
Not eating, well, that’s fine. Woulnd’t have done that anyway. But depriving me of my cup of tea (and the next, and the next, and the next)? Torture.
Oh dear! Are you willing to admit on a public blog what you’re going in for tests for? NOT for glandular fever I hope? (I’m pretty sure I didn’t have to not drink tea for it however. I’m *not safe to drive* on no tea–I couldn’t get in to HAVE the test.)
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General fatigue and brainfog, which seems somewhat on topic :-(
I think I would have noticed glandular fever, but you can never be certain…
Oh eff—-! Glandular fever first is NOT a requirement, and even if you have it it may not present itself dramatically. UGH.
HUGS MORE HUGS LOTS AND LOTS OF HUGS. AND CHOCOLATE. EVEN CHOCOLATE HUGS…WHYEVER NOT.
LOTS AND LOTS AND LOTS AND LOTS OF CHOCOLATE TOO.
AND MORE HUGS.
BECAUSE I CAN. finals are over, and i am HOME. So, have some hot tea with lots and lots of honey.
and chocolate chip cookies.
and more hugs.
<3 Julia
What a charming poem. Too bad you had to suffer through so much to inspire it (not that that was deliberate!)
Plenteous thoughts of candles, chocolate and sweet, sweet sleep with hellhounds near.
PS: I am enjoying the quotes at the upper left of your posts. Thank you for them as well as for the sharing you do with us.
Oh good. Thank you!
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I’m so sorry that the ME remains above the parapet. The pem is charming; long may it continue to lift your spirits. I’ve just passed through a period of “death on soggy toast” and hope you soon exit yours.
Here are some dog training treat thoughts (I don’t know that they qualify for the title recipe) because the area of PWYF for dogs is sadly lacking – Flora noticed, but Beefy and Noodles agree. Doggo just drools at the mere thought of food, but he IS a labrador :)
20 years ago when I moved to Birmingham I joined a training club where treats where supplied by the club secretary for enrolled dogs. This made training MUCH more successful as the treats were far tastier than shop bought versions.
Liver chips – use liver – any kind, but I usually cook lamb or calf liver. cut into thin strips, or use scissors to cut into small (fingernail or smaller) pieces. Place on a baking tray and cook in a low oven (very low) for an hour to an hour and a half. Aim for dry, rock hard pieces. The strips are excellent for reinforcing behaviours as a high value reward (eg toilet training outside!) and the tiny chips are good for rewarding repetitions.
Liver cake – there are many variations of this, but this is courtesy of Chris Hack, on Agilitynet.com
Canine Liver Cake
Ingredients
1 lb. liver (preferably lamb)
2 eggs
1 whole garlic bulb
12 ozs. self-raising flour
1/2 pint water
Method
Pulverise the raw liver, eggs and garlic in a food processor.
Add flour and mix.
Once blended, add water.
Pour mixture into a line cake tin (7-8 inches).
Cook at gas mark 5/180 degrees for half an hour or until the mixture is firm to touch.
Cut into very, very small squares when cool.
Use the same day, or freeeze what you don’t need immediately, to use later.
Leftover vegetables can be added and will be enjoyed by dogs, but avoid onions. Other meat (turkey after Christmas!) or fish work well also. If using tinned tuna, which is much enjoyed, I look for line caught, in unsalted water.
I hope dogs out there are licking their lips in anticipation, mine are snoring because I’m sitting at the computer :)
Yes well unfortunately you’re forgetting two things: One: hellhounds don’t LIKE liver. No, you’re right, they’re not really dogs, they’re alien implants. However, they’re MY alien implants, and I plan to keep them. Two: because they are alien implants, they have alien implant digestion, and even if they liked liver they can’t have it because they’re on this totally restricted diet with digestive enzymes in every meal to keep their faulty alien pancreases under control.
HOwever I agree that PWYF needs a Critter Area. New category? :)
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“New category? :)”
Brrr, that word (*shudders*), over to you Southdowner….:)
Way to go, guys. Shift blame where it belongs. :)
OOhh! I’ve got MORE recipes for dogs and a few for cats, so definitely a critter category!
Here’s a recipe from “Bone Appetit!” by Suzan Anson which might suit the hellhounds (to quote the author “for the fastidious eater”!)
Rice balls
1 cup uncooked short grain sushi or arborio rice (or use long grain white rice)
2 cups water
Sesame seeds
Place rice and water in a saucepan and bring to the boil. Cover and simmer until sticky. Allow to cool.
When the rice is cool enough to handle, wet your hands and form rice balls 1and1/2 inches in diameter. Roll the rice balls in sesame seeds. Makes about a dozen rice balls.
The first time I made these I had 6 balls, and 5 hungry dogs! Now I make double or quadruple and everyone gets some. Even my picky eaters like them, and they always have room to eat them. I’ve also used them for elderly or nervous rescue dogs with dodgy digestion as they are easy to handfeed.
But maybe this isn’t hellhound food either – what ingredients can they tolerate and (hopefully) enjoy?
Well they do get a bit of rice, so this is possible. At the moment hwoever they’ve had DIARRHEA FOR A WEEK and I am rapidly losing the remains of my mind. It (ahem) ebbs and flows or I’d've already rung the vet; if it’s not a LOT better by tomorrow I WILL ring. . . .
I hope you feel better soon!
Your husband is so sweet.
(I keep reading ‘ME’ as ‘me’ and it gets very confusing. Perhaps I need more sleep as well…)
I love it!
But I prefer Voyager to Deep Space Nine. Or does it get better after the first dozen episodes or so?
Never got on with Voyager. Only liked the captain so so, hated the chief pilot or whatever he was, HAAAAAATED the spotted alien cook or whatever HE was, the only character I really liked was the holographic doc. I had an instant crush on Sisko. :)
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The Ode cheered me up too! Lately it’s been one good day, two bad days–I’m hitting the Evening Primrose Oil and it might be maybe possibly hopefully kicking in. I think. But today was a good day. I actually cooked dinner tonight. Enchiladas. Yum. So sorry you can’t eat dairy! (I have to go easy on dairy, but I make exceptions for enchiladas.)
You know I had mono first too, and it kept coming back–I one point I was jaundiced and they never figured out why–I was down for 9 months the first time. After that I was never the same. I used to be an athlete, but even moderate exercise–which they say is good for CFS–is very hard for me. So now it comes and goes, but it’s not nearly as bad as it used to be, it DOES get better with time. So they* say, and that’s been my experience. Take it easy and try not to step in any more, um, shit.
*Those researchers in Sweden or where ever…
Thanks for sharing the poem! I just finished Eva and I do enjoy Peter’s work! (Discovered him through you .) It’s so lovely that he can do things like that for you.
I’m sorry to hear you’re feeling bleh though—sorry in the whole hand-wringing-wish-I-could-help-but-I’m-just-a-useless-fan-on-the-other-side-of-the-world-who-can’t-do-anything-anyway-(except-pray).
At any rate, I hope the weather improves to give you some sunshine; it is a glorious day in Sydney at the moment, but we are expecting rain, rain and more rain very shortly (better us than you; we’re in a drought!)
Oh, that’s a lovely poem. I’ll have to share it with my mom, who has Something They Can’t Quite Diagnose which might be Lyme (which Isn’t In Kansas, despite dogs having had it here for at least a decade) and might be Chronic Fatigue and certainly isn’t going away.
Oh *grim.* My very best, very too experienced, wishes.
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I like this poem–how could it fail to cheer you up, even in the throes? Much sympathy and good wishes–may you slide out under the ME’s radar.
And sorry to hear about the howling and its sequelae, hope that’s just a temporary aberration. At least the worst didn’t happen in the crate. Dealing with that, if you have wire crates, goes beyond horrible.
It’s much better to think about champagne and chocolate.
Well, I won’t tell you what I discovered in the crate yesterday evening, hellhounds having tactfully BURIED it so they could sleep comfortably. This has to have happened while I was bell ringing the evening before. Sigh. They also kept throwing up. Remind me why I have dogs? However things are quieter today.
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They are doing the part of their job that calls for giving you grey hair and palpitations while you are on your way to the poorhouse. I don’t know who put that in the job description, but it’s there.
They sure are . . . sigh . . .
I loved the poem!
Otherwise – I’m reminded of my favourite doctor comment: she looked at me and said: “I don’t know what’s wrong with you” and then she looked at me as if she expected me to come up with an answer. I did NOT say “Neither do I”, which honestly was the only possible response.
But luckily she sent me to Huddinge hospital – and everybody in this particular department (gastro something) have turned out to be absolutely wonderful. From the receptionists to the nurses and doctors. It’s not that others are necessarily rude so much as you get the impression that if you happened to drop dead in front of them, they wouldn’t care. I go every second month for my regular blood-letting experience (blood tests) have a chat with “my” nurse and come home.
Unfortunately I’m still tired and dizzy (this varies only in the degree of it – I’m never free of it) so I suspect I’ll have to tackle my “I don’t know what’s wrong with you”-doctor soon again – just now I don’t have the nerve or patience.
Oh, not all of Huddinge hospital is as charming as “my” department – the last time I had to have my eyes examined… But I’ll spare you. (For the present…)
I’m reminded of my favourite doctor comment: she looked at me and said: “I don’t know what’s wrong with you” and then she looked at me as if she expected me to come up with an answer.
********* I *so* love doctors. And she gets PAID for this, you know.
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A friend swears by shiatsu massage as what cured her of ME. Well that and 2 years total bed rest and completely overhauling her diet..
Yes. Bowen for me. But I’m sure doing something wrong at the moment.
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“Peter, who didn’t know any better either, was amused at my relief, as he brought me champagne and whippets on the sofa”
Desperately sorry though I am that you were then (and now are again) in such an unhappy state, I did find the image of Peter solemnly staggering towards you bearing a whippet on a serving salver extremely fetching!
And yes, it’s strange how being Absolutely Furious with someone doesn’t easily translate into alternative modes of communication. Shouting (on occasion) is more satisfying! :)
I will have to post photos of Peter wandering around the kitchen with a whippet tucked under his arm and something like a kettle in the other hand. If you had a whippet in your lap and you needed to get up and do something, generally you took the whippet with you. :)
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Nettishness Alert!
I’ve been sent two more nice little examples of clicking and time-wasting this week. Would you like the simple one or…the not so simple but more *involving* one?
(Or neither?)
:)
Why are you wasting time ASKING? Just POST the beggars, woman!
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“Why are you wasting time ASKING? Just POST the beggars, woman!”
Oh all right then. :)
a) Deceptively simple – http://www.matchpractice.com/game/ (you just need to ignore the annoying message between shots).
b) http://www.bbc.co.uk/drama/rockface/game/index.shtml
(if you get a little tiny screen at the start saying is it OK to connect to the BBC cgi script, yes, quite safe). A long-time friend who is a retired RAF pilot is currently being driven mad by this one too. :-D
I got ONE ball in the little hole . . . and shot OUT of there! :)
And the second one . . . gadzooks . . . !
This is my husband’s response when I sent him Peter’s poem:
“Ah, I can see that Peter is a man after my own heart. This is not mere stray
doggrel; it is pure-bred doggrel, and it takes a first in my book.”
would anyone like to compile a book of funny poems about unfunny illnesses??
(Therapists say that humor is one of the higher-order defenses.)
You must be beyond-tired of medical queries/advice, but a sore throat like knives sounds like strep, and haven’t Doctors and Researchers discovered that strep not treated with proper antibiotics can cause some sorts of long-term problems?
I’m sorry–I’m being useless–I’m supposed to be at my desk copyediting, having spent the week at a new job (tours at the Lower East Side Tenement Museum) and I’m trying to get my brain to change shape, as it must for me to get from one task to the other.
feel better soon (as they say on the Hallmark cards), but I mean it really.
Can’t remember now, but the boxes did get ticked–have had strep, and gods know have had *truckloads* of antibiotics, which is where a lot of my problems *come* from. What I remember is later reading that glandular-fever-lead-in flu often has sore throat like knives, and saying, Oh!
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As a diabetic, I have to go in for fasting blood tests every three months. This means no food or drink other than plain water for a minimum of 12 hours before the test. Which means I have to spend an entire evening from about 7:30 pm with NO coffee or tea. And the lab is a good 12 miles from home. Lovely.
UGH. What kind of torture is this? Not all the diabetics I know do this.
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My doctor doesn’t like my cholesterol levels, she doesn’t like my triglyceride levels, I also have hypothyroidism, so she keeps sending me for fasting blood tests every three months. I’m trying to prevent having to take too many prescription meds, because I react badly to quite a few of them, so I’m trying to tweak my diet and get more exercise in order to get the numbers down. The one thing the frequent tests do is keep me on my eating plan (can’t really call it a diet, can one, when it’s for the rest of one’s life).
The only thing my doctor does seem to like is the weight loss – well, I like it, too.
**Ugh.** Well, good luck. Fasting on hypothyroidism sounds like a really bad idea, but I’ll take your word for it. And diet meant what you ate before it meant weight loss. The tiger’s diet is goat and slow human, for example.
‘Ralph the Riever’ – ha! I just assumed you were talking about ‘Firefly’, even though I doubt any of the Rievers have names… or don’t any longer.
Lovely poem, just the thing to cheer you up when sick. And since we are all a little under the weather here with an annoying virus and an ongoing ear infection (in my son’s case), I think I will print it out and stick it on the fridge with proper annotation. Thank you!
I will tell Peter his range is increasing. :)
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Is there a problem? I posted a comment hours ago and it does not show. Plus the site is showing only 2 comments for the 15th, which cannot be right. That is much too small a number and must reflect that I am not the only one with lost comments.
I only unscreen once a day most days.
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::lights a candle::
::hugs::
A pure dose of sugar probably is not particularly good for your system at the moment but just the *thought* of these brownies will almost provide the necessary daily cocoa intake. ::snork:: I made them yesterday and accidently undercooked one batch. Oh my. My eyes nearly glazed over as my cocoa serum level maxed out after one small piece. It *might* have been related to the liquid chocolate oozing out….
CHOCOLATE MOCHA BROWNIES
INGREDIENTS:
220g dark chocolate, chopped
150g butter, chopped
1/4 cup (60ml) hot water
2 tsp strong instant coffee
3/4 cup (165g) castor sugar
1 cup (150g) self-raising flour
3 eggs
150g dark chocolate, chopped, extra
3/4 cup (90g) chopped walnuts or choc chips
METHOD:
Preheat oven to 160C /325F (moderately slow). Line 23cm /9” square pan with baking paper and extend over 2 opposites sides for easy lifting after cooking.
Dissolve the coffee into the hot water. Place butter, chocolate (220g), sugar and coffee into a heavy based saucepan. Stir over low heat without boiling until all chocolate is melted. Cool 10 minutes. Stir in flour, eggs, extra chocolate and nuts/choc chips.
Pour mixture into prepared pan and bake for approximately 45 minutes. Cool in pan. (If you try to remove from pan before it is cold you may have problems…) If you prefer your brownies oozing molten chocolate then take it out about 10 minutes early. Practice is essential.
Dust with combined equal quantities of sifted icing sugar and cocoa if desired.
I definitely like the ‘oozing molten chocolate’ part. :)
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