A bit of a setback

9 – 14 December 2014

Over the weekend I didn’t feel quite myself if I’m honest. For a start there was something rather unpleasant going on with my stomach which I put down to a meal rather too high in fat on Sunday night. With the windmill and the December miles in mind I tried my best to ignore it and went out on Monday walking anyway. It didn’t kill me but it probably didn’t help my speed or my enjoyment of the latte on the way home. In fact I very nearly didn’t finish it which might tell you something about the state of things. Not finishing a latte is almost unheard of for me.

By Tuesday the stomach was feeling more or less normal but I felt rather fuzzy headed and tired. Maybe I hadn’t slept well. I was a touch on the nervous side about eating much of anything too. Of course I did eat but stuck to bland things like toast mostly. With no walk on Sunday, I planned to wander over to town and back to make up the miles and make a start on my Chrsitmas shopping.

Something wasn’t quite right though. Nothing that could be really called being ill but a generally lethargic and cotton wooly feeling. In the end I caught the bus. Town was busier than I expected for a Tuesday morning and making my way through all the shoppers in WestQuay seemed to take more energy than I had to spare. After one present (for Commando) I decided enough was enough. The lights and noise of the Christmas Market all seemed too much so I left them behind. Even the lure of a coffee couldn’t tempt me to stay.

Walking through the enchanted park to the bus stop I thought I probably should take a photo or two of the azaleas and camellia that I’m sure shouldn’t be flowering in December along with the last of the hydrangeas and a solitary leaf on the maple that was so bright last year. There was probably lots more to see but I didn’t really look. My head told me to walk home, my body made me get the bus again.

At three in the morning I woke up with a pounding, migraine like head ache. Tablets were taken and, eventually, I got back to sleep. In the morning the headache was still there but toned down a notch or two and now I felt very wobbly and slightly feverish. Sitting in the gym trying to work up some enthusiasm for breakfast I thought seriously about not going to work.

It looked like such a nice day outside, all blue sky and the tail end of the sunrise, I told myself I’d be fine when I got there, took another headache pill and caught the bus. The walk across the boardwalk was a struggle despite the beautiful views. My legs felt wobbly, my head felt peculiar as if my brain wasn’t quite working properly.

There was a note on my desk asking me to man reception so I did but couldn’t quite focus on the hustle and bustle of people coming and going, the phone ringing, the gate buzzing. Two hours in Jess told me I should think seriously about going home. Walking back across the boardwalk to the bus stop the boards seemed to be rippling in front of my eyes. For a moment I thought I wouldn’t make it to the bus stop but I did.

At home I lay down on the sofa and fell asleep. When Commando got up he found me there and ordered me to bed.  That was where I stayed, apart from two trips downstairs to get drinks during the evening. My sleep was troubled by strange dreams. In one I was sharing a hotel room with Prince Willam and Kate Middleton who were, apparently, my cousins. In another a huge bald man was swabbing my eyelids to test for drugs.

Thursday and Friday were spent mostly in bed or on the sofa with crappy Christmas films in the background and me dosing. The bad dreams continued but I won’t bore you with the details, suffice to say most of them revolved around being lost in one form or another.  I tried to read but my eyes weren’t up to the job, or my brain come to that. The toilet was the furthest I walked and even that required holding onto things. Commando and Commando Junior kept their distance, trying to avoid my germs. I don’t blame them.

Friday night included more bad dreams and, despite all the sleeping I’d been doing, I slept until ten thirty. As I’d eaten nothing for the last three days, my only nourishment coming from a few milky cups of cocoa, I thought I should probably make an effort to have something. The strange thing is I didn’t feel hungry in the slightest. Toast was as far as the eating went. Two and a half slices to be exact. At dinner time I did try some fish but it tasted horrid so, after a couple of mouthfuls, I left it.  Still, I didn’t feel quite as fuzzy and  I managed to stay awake most of the day watching rubbish Christmas films on TV.

So, as weeks go, it wasn’t the best I’ve ever had. There was next to no walking, next to no anything really. The only reason ther was a blog post each day was cause I’d written and scheduled all of them at the weekend. Usually I check them all again before posting so, if any glaring errors crept in, I apologise.  When it comes to totting up the miles for December I have a horrible feeling I’m going to be a long way off the hundred. Oh well, such is life.