It is so frustrating. I know that all the time that I am better than I was a year ago, two years ago. Three years ago I took two or three weeks off work because I was exhausted. Four years ago I took most of a year off because I was exhausted. Just about 4 years ago I slept through until the afternoon before going to ENO's The Valkyrie. I got a taxi home and slept for another fourteen hours. So, you know, such a difference now.
One of the problems in being in recovery from CFS is over-confidence, 'overdoing it'. There are broadly two theories about CFS, one is that it lasts for ever; the other that it lasts for about 4 - 7 years. Sometimes I think, more than 4 years later, I'm cured.
Which of course is rubbish.
A double-edged sword is that I survive a lot on adrenaline and nervous energy. So, being in Barcelona at the weekend, I got through really well. Saturday was a marathon and I don't think I got to sleep until five o'clock, but I never felt tired. It was nice spending Sunday on the beach at Barcoleneta. Walking back to our hotel, I found parts of my body just packing up. It's always exciting trying to predict which bit will go next. I have been struggling on and off with my right knee, which makes going downstairs problematic, but far from impossible. But when you have a dodgy right knee, and then your left foot packs up, it makes life...fun.
My journey back was totally unstressful. The plane was due to go at 1410 and didn't start boarding until then. Knowing that I already had my seat allocated I saw no purpose in standing around in a queue that wasn't going to move. So I sat reading for half an hour, and was the third last person onto the bus to be driven five miles around Barcelona airport. And then I had the stress of a taxi driver from Paddington who was a worshipper of the Queen Mother,and then started harping on about the good old days when Debutantes, the daughters of Lords, just had 'honorary jobs'. I did get a bit annoyed, pointing out they are complete nobodies, people who have a title because they got pissed with some king from long ago. My grandfather was a bus-driver and his father a farrier, and I am proud to be from that background.
It was slightly stressful to be on a different flight with Jimmy. I have this idea in my head that he can't look after himself, but he did point out he has managed to get himself to and from and around Australia on his own! He was a bit concerned that we were smuggling cigarettes. I patiently explained that it is perfectly legal to buy duty-paid cigarettes in other EU countries, as long as they are for personal use. Even so, we swapped suitcases so that I could swan through UKBA without suspicion, whereas if he was stopped (because of sharing family ties including a surname with convicted drug smugglers) he would just have to explain away having female stuff in his suitcase...that being, I'm a girl, I have a heavier suitcase...shoes, gadget chargers, bags of magic stuff (like shower gel, painkillers...), he's a man, he carries the heavier suitcase. He had a copy of my eticket print out.
But actually, it was also less stressful not being with Jimmy. He hates flying, and twists and turns and grumbles throughout flights, plus every action I take has to be communicated 'I'm going to the loo,you wait there; the exit is to the left; the train goes in five minutes..."
But then I was really knackered on Tuesday and decided to take the day off. Not exactly snowed under with work (waiting on other busy people so I can kick a couple of audits off), and flush with Annual Leave, it was a sensible decision. I struggled through Wednesday and Thursday, just about, and last night went to Tosca. I enjoyed it, although not as much as last week. This was partly for objective reasons (Tony Pappano wasn't conducting), partly because a second hearing in close proximity actually detracted a bit from the magic, but mainly because I was tired.
I went to bed almost immediately I got home and slept the clock round. I did not feel great when I got up and I have done virtually nothing since. It annoys me, it was a trouble-free, stress-free weekend away. I used to do it all the time. In my early twenties I was away visiting, or entertaining guests, nearly every weekend, working full time, partying hard, and I never really felt drained, let alone achey.
