If you are looking for specifically for stuff on living with ME/CFIDS/CFS, you will find some amongst the entries here.

(Very) occasionally my bloggings are not suitable for people under 18 or anyone likely to be upset by what is often referred to as 'adult' content, so consider yourself warned. Mostly I just swear a lot.

Comments are welcome and thanks for popping by. :-)

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This was not intended to be a site specifically about living with illness, but it's about my life and unfortunately, living with illness is a significant part of that. These days I don't harp on about it as much as I used to because I assume you probably already now about the restrictions I live with every day. But just so's you know: I rarely leave the house. I cannot move round much physically and at the moment I pretty much live in an armchair. I make occasional forays out and about but not without consequences. My cognitive capacity is limited. Yes, I can be very articulate, but most of my energy goes into what you see in these pages. It's not like I'm off working a job, reading books, making things or even pottering around the house when I'm not here. Mostly I am restricted to sitting quietly and completing small, undemanding tasks between periods of rest. And that _is_ as boring as it sounds.


If illness freaks you out it's probably going to eclipse your awareness of my sparkling wit and charisma and you probably buggered off after the first ten words of this post. Yep. Of if you've stuck around, you're probably googling 'boobies' and trying not to think too hard about the vicissitudes of life and really, I can't blame you. I've got a boobies search open in another window even as I type, really.

Because sometimes I can't be bothered looking down.

In more cheery news, it's hard rubbish time in [location redacted] and given the lack of good telly I might go for a late night scuttle and browse. Subject to finding enough warm layers of course.

I am on the lookout for a small telephone table.

(If anyone has one lying about, feel free to let me know.)

I do mean small, it needs to tuck into a 40cm space between the couch and the wall, just so I can get the phone and router off the floor. I have a distinct preference for late 60's decor to match the rest of the place. Nothing chunky.

Unfortunately this era is now hot property so I don't know how I'm going to go looking for a freeby.

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And today my sister nearly choked when I told her I want to buy more turntables because they're fun to fiddle with.

They aren't that much fun but her reaction is priceless.

Today at Casa Sploge: electricians all around. It meant almost total fail on my plan to ring more GPs in my search for one that does home visits and doesn't go at a sprint. I've rung one more, the receptionist will ask about home visits and call me back tomorrow, so I am not optimistic. It's very easy to say no to someone you have never met.

But Big Sis and I went out for a cuppa to get away from the fuss, and soon I will have power points aplenty, so all was not lost.

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I am sore. I don't care what anyone says about how much pain I should be in by now according to the textbook, because my leg hurts and sometimes quite a lot thankyou. And the numbness is painful, in a strange numb way. It's a heavy dull feeling and my leg bumps into things of its own accord because I don't quite know what it's doing. And that numb, heavy pain is definitely worse in the cold. Or low pressure or whatever the trigger is today.

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I am not decreasing my lexapro dose yet. It seemed like a good idea a fortnight ago but things went downhill last week. I've been needing to rely on first aid level CBT way too often. Y'know, the point where you really need to coax yourself through the basics and give yourself a big old round of applause for pulling yourself together enough to switch on the radio and make yourself a cuppa. Not all the time - but enough.

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Missing my garden today.

I remember my ex explaining why it was so important that _he_ keep the house: he was terrified of having to downsize to some horrid little one person, single person type dwelling. No proper shed, no proper yard...an old person's one person place, not a proper house. It was a real challenge to his self image.

Yes, the irony was completely lost on him. Who he was talking to and what she was facing, he just did not notice. I don't think he realised I was, and am, still not seeing myself as a write-off. One of those strange moments when you see how someone doesn't see you, but assumes that they do and that you see yourself in the same way. Whether that's over-the-hill, or disabled, or able-bodied (depending on context)...pretty, ugly, fat or thin... whatever...and therefore it's okay that you are in the position that you are in. When in fact as far as you're concerned, it's no more okay for you than it would be for them.

So did any readers in Melbourne experience unusually bad pain overnight on Friday? And if you've had a fracture in the last few years, or you have osteoarthritis or similar...how was your night?

I ask because my night was a bit of a shocker and I'm trying to work out whether it's that barometric pressure thing that I'm still getting used to, or something else.

Quite a few bits of me were hurting, and there were GI symptoms as well. So it might simply be Crohn's Disease. (Woke up with a possibly inflamed eye too...which also points to Crohn's Disease, but I'll know more about that when I see my eye specialist this week).

But it was unexpected, and there was also some very specific trouble around the site of the first femoral fracture and the knee and hip - enough that I wondered if something undue had happenned with the femoral nail, the femur, or both.

And it cleared up. Which is not something I would expect a Crohn's flare to do.

I'm sure I would be happy if I could have


just three good hours a day. When I could go outside. And just kick around, without collapsing in a heap for the rest of the week, too sick to think.

I guess a song's a true classic when you can't find the original on youtube and people don't even *bother* mentioning you're about to watch a cover in the title.

Bob Dylan's Hurricane!


by some kid on kazoo.



Sorry little dude, it's Hurricane, by Bob Dylan - not you. Or your kazoo.

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A friend thinks I will like 'Game Of Thrones'. Maybe it's time to find out.

It's 1:45.

I need to keep spoons for tomorrow.

I would really like to go out. I have been in here for days.

But as well as not wanting to overdo things, I am having a flare up of Crohn's. Quite a bad one. And rather sudden.

It might not be Crohn's I guess...but it rather feels like it. Lots of general pain, arm pain, back pain too. Lexapro is staying where it is (withdrawal can cause upset stomachs, so doesn't seem like a good idea right now) and I just put the prednisolone back up to 15 from 11mgs. Shall start Pentasa. Have taken loperamide, codeine. Shall cross all fingers and toes.


Really missing my old GP right now! The new one doesn't know me and both times I have seen her now she's been in a hurry.

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So. I've just showered, washed hair. Will tackle the domestic tasks I couldn't manage for the last few days.

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Thoughts: buying new turntable, is it worth it? Buying vertical garden modules - which one, how much, cheapest option?

I am being mean to the cat. First, I am sitting in *my* spot, and any spot that is mine defaults to her after 24 hours. Permanently.

That's the rule.

Second, I won't let her sit on my lap because I am leaning forward surfing the web.

Edit: yeah okay, now she's on my lap with her head on my left arm and I'm typing one handed. Cat=1 Splozza=0

shed door goes down. Shed door goes up, shed door goes down. Shed door goes up, shed door goes down. Shed door goes up, shed door goes down. Shed door goes up, shed door goes down. Shed door goes up, shed door goes down. Shed door goes up, shed door goes down. Shed door goes up, shed door goes down. Shed door goes up, shed door goes down. Shed door goes up, shed door goes down. Shed door goes up, shed door goes down. Shed door goes up, shed door goes down. Shed door goes up, shed door goes down.

My landline isn't working properly - it's going through to someone else's voicemail. Not the previous tenants, in case you were wondering. Just some random people. Not a good introduction to the new service. An email has been sent, hopefully they'll reply by email or mobile, for obvious reasons.
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Also, my new dial tone is really strange.

It's super fast. Frenetic, even. And at a higher pitch than the regular tone.

I don't like it because now my phone sounds really frightened whenever I'm about to make a call. It is most offputting.