Having moved into 2019 off the back of a fairly average year, healthwise, for me, I was thinking, do I really need a health update this year or should I, for the first time in my chronic ill-health journey, give it a miss?
I did have the usual couple of relapses (and hospital visits) to deal with – my ‘normal’ year – but my biggest health crisis has occurred in the last several weeks where I caught a cold and then came down with what with my GP calls ‘proper flu’.
Cue immediate alarm because I was bedbound and began to get the usual kind of skin problems that you get when you can’t move or maintain your usual skin protection regime – this is now something that frightens me to death given the pressure sore problems that struck me down in 2015 and continue to haunt me.
Happily, today, I am feeling pretty much back to normal – a bit weak and the skin is still looking vulnerable in places but I managed to get through the six weeks maintaining my existing fragile skin areas and without developing any further problems. So far. Phew. Wipes sweat off brow.
Of course, as I shook and shivered, with my temperature spiking over 40°, I felt stupidly sorry for myself. And, melodrama, much, I imagined the spectre of death looming large before me – caused by both fever and the recent death of a very close friend, G, at the ridiculously young age of 61. Okay, I accept not young for anybody under the age of 30 but definitely young to anybody over the age of 40.
The spectre of death having receded for me, I continue to mourn our wonderful gentle friend, finishing here with my words to G’s son who had commented on how sad it was that his dad’s life seemed, with hindsight, to be one unfulfilled by early promise.
G had been a professional dancer, always a short career. After his dancing career ended, he never really found his niche in life and he was such a bright, kind man:
RIP with love always, my friend.
The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.