Monthly Archives: October 2015

The Perks Of Being A Goldfish

goldfishThere’s nothing much happening in our little cottage since I’ve been convalescing from my third course of Alemtuzumab, so I’ve mostly been Thinking, which is always a risky undertaking.

Uppermost in my mind is, well, my Mind. In other words, my Goldfish Brain.

This is best explained by my risible attempt at New & Experimental writing at Uni:

I had to ‘write a sketch  in which the gender of the narrator and/or characters is obscured or manipulated in some way’.

Really.

So I did what any pretentious peep with literary leanings would do and wrote a sketch using only titles from the top 50 bestseller list from a popular bookstore – sample line: ”It was always Personal, always about Us. Where My Heart Used to Beat, there is only Lamentation”. Counter-culture or what? And I even called it ‘Water & Stone’. Yup, I am that tragic.

Anyway, I polished it, posted it on our forum and promptly forgot about it. Which probably wasn’t a bad thing.

This got me Thinking. MS has taken a giant eraser and smudged out a whole part of my brain. At first this was pretty frightening, as you can imagine. Words failed me, jokes died, anecdotes withered in the middle and post-it notes bloomed all over the house.

Looking on the bright side however, I decided to write a list of all that was positive about this, and here it is, taken from my scribbles:

  • Supermarket home delivery is a joy, every single week. I completely forget what I’ve ordered, so when I unpack the bags I stare in wonder at the gluten-free pasta and think, ‘wow, I needed this! How fabulous’. Digging through the bags is exciting and just like Christmas. Especially when they pop in a free sample – ‘yay, a small pot of spinach-flavoured yoghurt, just what I wanted’.
  • I am the Best Ever Friend. I’m the friend who can not only keep secrets, but also promptly forgets them. Result.
  • Every day is a whole new experience. I wake up refreshed, having forgotten the traumas of yesterday. If I’m reminded, I’ll deal with it. If not, I enjoy my coffee.
  • I can’t argue any more. This may sound like a bad thing, but believe me, it’s an unexpected bonus. People will attempt to bring me into long-standing grievances/arguments/slights and I’m like, ‘oh, really? And when did that happen?’ They will then start talking really slowly in a very loud voice to me and try to explain. I forget.
  • I’m never bored; I gaze at my pile of books by my bed (just the books I want to read, how amazing), I admire my friend’s notes from Uni (was I actually at that lecture? Wonderful, let’s read the notes and enjoy it all over again). Hey, someone’s put more loo-roll in the bathroom and it definitely wasn’t The Teenager. How thoughtful.
  • Last but not least, I forget how much chocolate I have eaten.

Mind you, I’ll have to rein in this Goldfish Brain as I start back at work in a couple of days.

Apparently I’ve met with The Boss for coffee several times over the last week for a catch up and debriefing. If you remember what we talked about, could you send me some notes?

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Sick. And Tired.

workWell, this convalescing malarky isn’t much fun.

An interminable routine of waking up and falling asleep, interspersed with hideous headaches and increased foot-drop, so much so that I had to dig out my craft glue-gun and stick the soles back on my favourite boots after tripping over one too many pavements.

University started back last week which was a welcome reprieve. I packed my file, pencil case, water bottle and emergency Pro-Plus and toddled off, careful to watch my step as the glue has been in a drawer for a couple of years.

A whole module of New and Experimental Writing. Exciting. Or so I thought. I pondered ruminated mused, ‘I can be avant-garde, I can be Left Bank and enthuse about counter-culture and the like’. I pictured myself in six months time, graciously accepting a literary prize for my ground-breaking, innovative novella in which the main character was an MRI scanner. Brilliant. Undeniably genius.

Anyway, back in the real world, I have one more week off work and plan to sleep through most of it in the desperate hope that I can bank some energy. I dipped my toe in the water yesterday and worked with The Boss just to see how I’d manage. All went well; I was on top form, as I’m pretty good in the mornings. We started off with a debrief over coffee and toast in the local cafe. My eyes glazed over after a while and he dragged me to work, bribing me with a flapjack from the bakery next door.

It was fine. Until about noon, when the foot-drop reared its ugly head. There’s a lot to trip over on a building site. There’s a lot of holes in the floor, and after my spectacular fall through a kitchen ceiling a couple of years ago (which I’m reminded of on a weekly basis), I’m pretty careful.

I yawned more and more until the boss took the hint and wrapped it up by 1pm. Bliss. I fell into my house, threw myself on the sofa and didn’t move for three hours. I’m not so sure my Back To Work Plan is, um, going to plan.

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