November

You have my sympathies mate.
Feel like shit myself.
Mentally and physically.

Are you sure this isn't November? I've had a bathroom and kitchen leak that has needed a fair bit of rebuilding, car key trouble, none of us are well, insurance fuck-ups that I've had to rectify and all through a fog of dulled brain and snot that is not amusing at all.

December can fuck right off.

2014 can fuck right off.

I'll second that, Tone.

Update on December -

Fuck oooofffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff

I am currently in the middle of an eight day period where I see four different doctors for four different issues at four different locations (both in terms of body and geography).

It's not the best I've ever been, although I don't exactly feel shite.

It's a shame we cant trade our body in for a new one when it's clapped out....as you can with a car for instance.

Not content with everything else, I had to go for a scope on Wednesday last. The prep is of course half the fucking battle.

And the hits just keep on coming...

It never rains, it pours.

Could sleep a sixteen hour day at the minute and food is an afterthought. I ache

Thos November, I haven't been too bad but the house has a case of the shits...

The icy fucking fingers of the month stretched out in the last few days and have been plucking my lights...

Mother and father of colds had me completely out of energy on Monday. Had clinic on Thursday where I had a fair cover of history and talked myself into a liver scan.

Sounds awful but is in fact the sort of monitoring I welcome - the meds I'm on can have the mother and father of consequences (no relation to the cold in line one) and as such bloods and scans are the routine. It's been over a decade, I'd rather have it than not. Was surprised to find that because of being on azathioprine at any time in my life, I will have a heightened susceptibility to sun-related skin cancers, even were I to stop them tomorrow.

Pretty much doing OK otherwise, though

I had a routine scaan last week and they tell me I now have narrowing of the left iliac artery.
I give up.

Fuck me, Tone, all this narrowing when we want a bit of lengthening and widening...

It was the fucking widening of my aorta that caused me to have 3 hours of surgery 16 months ago.
My vascular system must be so fucked.

I slept a fitful hour in the car yesterday as I staved off one of these fucking episodes that I just can't get my head around.

What happens is I start off reasonable, as I did yesterday. I nipped out of work to pick up an order (unrelated) from the chemist and by the time I'd turned to go back ten minutes later, I had gone into steep decline (rleatively speaking). Within an hour I had the referred backache and some of my joints were afire and twenty minutes after that my regulatory system checked out and I got the shakes through abject cold in a 72 degree climate controlled environment. This would reverse three hours later into sweating like a Rochdale MP texting a minor. Between these I had a desperately needed hour of sleep and a complete collapse of energy. The hour of sleep in the car was an hour further on again. The car's windows looked like Stan Collymore's hobbyshop.

After sleep last night I was crap to progressively better all morning and am all but rebounded now, although I haven't eaten well. It's a fucking bizarre cycle and I haven't had one for a year or two but it frightens the fucking life out of anyone watching...

(I can generally stabilise although still feel totally ragdoll with 2 paracetamol and a half hour in a darkened room)

Two liver scans in the next month too. No Bestie me...

I have a new attack of gout in my left foot, pain indescribable........Have had to hire a mobility scooter to get into town with.

I truthfully (to myself only) considered something similar myself on Thursday, Tone - I had shit to do and had no spoons to do it.

Satanic torture no. 237 - if your charge is tired, send him to IKEA to get three items. One should be out of stock, one should be in two items and one should be flat pack.

Can't work out if I'm tired or fatigued. Guessing the former but the gates of November are beginning to get an oiling...

Guts aflame. Not funny at all.

Bert, I feel for you mate.
I am still unable to recover mentally from the 9 hour operation I had in July.
Plus my body is falling apart everywhere.

Understandable, Tone, it's one of those ops that shapes your entire present and future and you've had it done twice.  I can remember my old man's recovery after his quadruple bypass - November 19th he had the op and it was questionable whether he would be out over Christmas (well, nominally questionable - Mum determined he'd be out, even if just for his dinner and no doctor could have told her otherwise).

We still have photos of him on New Year's Eve and he is drawn, white and looks immensely tired in one in particular.  This is a man whose tan (all natural) had "leathered" his skin to the extent that they broke a clutch of needles when trying to stitch up his leg after the venal grafts were taken out for bypass (they stapled him in the end), and he looked like Casper.  That was the night he turned to me and said that he was on the mend.  Took him six weeks to say that and even then he looked the shade that, in local vernacular, is called "boiled shite".

Every minute is a shaken fist at the Gods, because if They exist, they're all bastards and every single one of them can suck my fucking dick.  I won't offer you platitudes, Tone, because you don't reason with cuntery, you kick it in the pods.  I hope you get to fucking rage at it, I really do.

Meanwhile, I've spent two days trading out of codeine into paracetamol and am currently shitting explosive rusty water every ninety minutes.  Pain's subsided somewhat post-needle and can eat, which is a pretty fair position.  Drugs are doing their thing as this has turned into a bit of a "bounce" rather than anything else but that pain on Sunday is as bad as I've had in a good while.  The perils of good remission - you forget what it's like to be more substantively ill.