Wednesday, 7 August 2013

Birthday Blues

It's that time of year again and my birthday is almost here. Yet for the first time in my life I find I'm not looking forward to it at all. I'm quite an excitable person normally and in the run up to my birthday I'm usually reminding everyone how many weeks left to go, dropping not so subtle hints of what I'd like and generally behaving like a big kid. This year however is completely different. In fact if truth be told, I'd rather just pull the duvet over my head and forget about the whole palaver altogether. I feel like such a misery guts about it all - even Eeyore had a birthday party although I expect he didn't enjoy it much.

I think the first reason for this is that I actually feel terrible most of the time and have to spend about 20 hours of each day lying in bed or on the sofa doing absolutely nothing. It's pretty hard to celebrate anything when you have to spend most of your time alone in a dark, quiet room. 

I'm dreading the inevitable deluge of well wishes too. Obviously I'll be a bit miffed if I don't get any but it currently takes me anything up to a couple of weeks to get round to answering even the simplest of emails or texts. I avoid phone calls almost completely as they make my head hurt and the rare occasions I do make a call, it's to my parents to reassure them I am actually still alive. My husband is getting quite good at fielding calls from other family members. I'm sure they must think I'm being awkward but I'm really not.

I'm also not up to the company. No-one surely would chose to be alone on their birthday yet at the moment I'm starting to wonder if it isn't the better idea. My husband has taken the week off work because we usually spend the time doing nice things together. As I can barely leave the house this ain't going to happen. And whilst it is nice having him around, it does mean that I won't be able to spend my days resting on the sofa as usual. The noise of him pottering or watching telly will be too much for me so I shall have to confine myself to the bedroom for the week. I need that daily change of scenery to stop me going completely stir crazy yet how can I tell him not to bother taking the time off?

Similarly, my parents want to visit at some point. I understand they want to see me as I'm their only daughter and it's my 'special' day. They are worried about me and haven't visited for several months but therein lies the problem. The last time they visited I was not quite as bad as I am now but even then, the emotional strain of having them there and seeing me in such a poor condition left me feeling even more terrible. It took me about a week to recover and I really don't need the extra stress or strain right now. But again, how can I tell them not to bother coming?

As for presents, normally I love them. Can't get enough. But as I'm too ill to do anything really, there's nothing I want. I can't listen to the albums I'd like or see the films I want to watch. The hobbies I enjoy have all gone by the wayside for the time being. I still have things I asked for at Christmas unused and gathering dust because I just haven't had the strength. All I can manage is writing my blog and drawing in my sketch book. I don't really need much to help me do either.

There's also the main reason for my despondency. It's not just the anniversary of my birth, it's also the anniversary of when I got ill. Yes, I have the dubious honour of first feeling unwell on my birthday two years ago. Things haven't been the same since. It doesn't help that last year I was in a really good place. I'd managed to claw my way back to being able to get out and about for 4 hours solid at a time and spent the whole week doing lovely things. The weekend before my birthday I had a meal out with friends. On the day itself I went for a swim at the local spa. I was knackered but after resting for a day, I was well enough to go stay at my parents for the night before travelling to Leavesden for my birthday treat of a trip round the Harry Potter studios. I managed four hours of walking round with only a couple of quick sit downs. It seems like a miracle now or perhaps it was the 'magic of Harry Potter.' Either way, I had an amazing week and really felt I had turned a corner on my way to wellness. How wrong I was. 

I can't even contemplate doing one of those things in a week, let alone the whole lot. Since then, a gradual decline has led me here - housebound and incapable of doing all but the most menial of tasks. Perhaps it's no surprise that the last thing in the world I feel like doing is celebrating on the day that marks the start of this whole devastating affair. No, I'd much rather pull that duvet back over my head thank you very much. In fact, I'd prefer some sort of magic drug to render me unconscious for the rest of this horrible illness altogether. That way, someone can wake me up when I'm better and I can spend a whole month partying to make up for all the Christmases, birthdays, weddings, funerals, bar mitzvahs etc I've missed. Yes, I think that's best. Wake me when I'm well please - that really will be something worth celebrating.

1 comment:

  1. You sounded awfully fed up when you wrote this. Sleeping until ME goes away sounds like such a good idea; I'm so disappointed each day when it's still there. But we all seem to have bad days and not-quite-as-bad days, so things should pick up a bit before long.

    For now, I hope that you can enjoy your birthday however you can and that it's one of your not-so-bad days. I'd send you something loud to listen to if I thought that you could!