Sunday, 14 April 2019

The Bug In The System

Hello dear readers!

Today is a day which finds your friendly neighbourhood blogger feeling just a little flat. A tiny bit out of sorts if you will (and even if you won’t to be fair).

The most probable cause for this is a dose of the common cold or some other related bug that has left me with a faint but persistent headache, a small case of the sniffles, and a thirst for cups of tea that seems unquenchable. Of course as is the way, these days, my MS has decided to lend a hand in proceedings, and a mega-dose of bone-deep weariness has decided to drop in to lend it’s support, alongside it’s friend and neighbour, Mr Brain-Fog. All of which is… Smashing.

And really, it couldn’t be timed better, because this week was the week of my injection.

Getting The Point
I am of course, talking about my regular injections of B12. I’ve blogged about it before, which just goes to prove that there really is nothing new under the sun, and that my life is one that is bursting with rich variety. You can read that post here.

Anyhoo, this particular dose of the vitamin that gives my blood the iron needed to help me fully function was administered on Wednesday, and was given by the Practice nurse at the local Doc’s. Usually I’d do it myself, having been shown the correct way to handle the little ampoule of bright red and slightly vinegary liquid that I need to inject subcutaneously every 3 months. It’s advised that this is done in alternative arms, which is a challenge for a strong righty like myself. Luckily my wonderful and very caring wife, Tina, is happy to stab me with a sharp piece of metal every now and then, so it’s probably and idea to make sure there’s a sound medical reason behind it.

Stick A Pin In It
This time, as I say, it was the nurses turn to enact the revenge of women the world over and stick me like the stuck pig I’m not. This was necessary due to me running out of supplies after my last injection and completely failing to order more at that point. That and the fact that I have the memory of a goldfish with mild concussion, and a tendency to put things off until tomorrow that I could conceivably have done last year.

It has meant that over the last few weeks I’ve found myself grinding to a halt. Tiredness has become a factor. A lack of energy, motivation, get up, and indeed, go. It has meant that working on the book that might be has possibly suffered a little, although I have been working on it every day (well apart from the day my computer decided to play hide-the-manuscript-and-tell-the-author it doesn’t exist... Which was nice). It’s also meant that life just became a little hard for a while. Things that are usually no problem becoming just that little bit more challenging. Luckily there’s a cure for that.

So, yes, the little ampoule was broken, the 1mg of Hydroxocoblamin drawn up, and neatly deposited in my right shoulder. For two whole days a new world was revealed to me, a world of energy, of focus, of rather annoying cheerfulness (Sorry, Tina). These were days of wonder, days bathed in spring sunshine both outside and indeed, in.

Two-day and Tomorrow
Unfortunately it was just the two days. The aforementioned bug has stripped me of this new lease of life, if only on a temporary basis, as resources are no doubt marshalled to fight it. Once more the veil of weariness is settled upon my mind, once more the idea of actually doing things is just that little bit less tempting. I’m hoping it’s just a 48 hour thing and that tomorrow will see me bounce out of bed full of beans and annoying cheeriness once again.

I guess until then I’ll just have to take this as a lesson that, not only is life so much more interesting when chronic illnesses meet, but that a little forward planning, and a little more concentration on managing my multitude of maladies can lead to a much smoother existence all round. I don’t think it will help me avoid the 48 hour man-flu but it might just make me that little bit better prepared.

Until next time.

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