Shock realisation

It occurred to me today that I don’t remember what it feels like to not be sick.

Funnily enough this came as quite a shock. I had just been picked up from the train station after a long day in which I felt like crap the majority of the time with headaches, muscle aches and an almost overwhelming exhaustion that I woke up with and couldn’t shake no matter how much caffeine I consumed. My mind wandered, as it is want to do, onto a friend of mine who has just suffered a particularly nasty bout of food poisoning (which caused him to cancel a coffee date) complete with all- vomiting and a trip to emergency at the local hospital. The next day I sent him a text message and asked how he was feeling and he said “tired and worn out”. I know the feeling, I thought. A few days later, he’s back to his chirpy (if a little busy) self and remarked that “if there is one thing I hate above all others it is being ill”. I was thinking about all of this in the random stupor of my exhaustion and was suddenly struck by the horrifying realisation that I don’t remember not feeling sick in one way or another.

It is actually quite poetic that I should be struck by such a realisation this week. This week is International ME/CFS and Fibromyalgia Awareness Week. I won’t rehash the sordid details, I’ve already done that once this month and frankly it’s getting a little depressing. Suffice it to say that there’s always something.

There’s always headaches, migraines, aching legs or arms, sore back or shoulders, crippling exhaustion, stomach upsets or the ever-present memory of a goldfish. I don’t remember how it was before all this started eight years ago. I don’t remember having energy, going to school every day or being able to go to a party at the drop of a hat. I don’t remember having a life.