Thursday, 3 November 2011

Sick thoughts

Ill. I have lost my voice, possibly due to an extra-loud rendition of Love Shack at a karaoke party. However, it happened, writing is better than talking at the moment. Virgil is ill too with a similar thing. Man flu, I believe his variant of it is called. We both look and smell awful, haven't washed for days. I think smelling bad is a side-effect of being ill. The heroic amounts of vitamin C I have been taking haven't helped but Virgil stinks too and all he takes is Lemsip and Ribena.

I feel tired and fractious. I am reading Feel The Fear And Do It Anyway and, scarily, it's a good read (apart from the parts where she berates people for catching cancer as it is their own fault, supposedly, and an opportunity for growth rather than something to feel sad about). I have much to learn. I start to think about my own fear and how it keeps me in limbo. I ask myself what my pay-offs are for living this way. Something's got to give. I think I might be approaching a tipping point!

Last night I dreamed I had cancer. It's not the first time I've dreamed this recently. The most vivid aspect of the dream was a strangulating feeling of panic, grief and frustration, of unfairness. A feeling of being stuck. I'm going to die. I shouted. I'm forty now and I won't ever be 41. My family tried to comfort me but I was inconsolable.

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