Twelve noon strikes and I become the closest I get these days to a normal human being. Still can’t get used to the idea that mornings no longer belong to me but to my illness. On good days, like today, I wake with aches and pains and lethargy, swimming through treacle (unlike yesterday’s hungover porridge, so great improvement). Takes me an hour or so to get up, have breakfast, take medication, shower and get dressed.All feels as though it’s happening in slow motion and that I ought to have a button to be able to set to normal if not warp speed.
Then out to get paper and do a bit of shopping, have to stop en route for coffee and a sit down. Strange waves of tiredness and energy alternately run through me, feel like I can’t get to the next lamppost and then when I do, batteries somehow recharge.
And then about twelve, the normal clock strikes and I feel as though it might be possible to actually do something with the day. Lunch and a nap and then three or four hours of life that anyone else would recognise. The illness and lethargy are held at bay for another day.
But it’s still a surprise every morning that this lethargy is the new normal. I keep thinking that something will click into place and I’ll be back to my old self. Always an owl, rather than a lark, but able to function in the mornings.
I resist as strongly as I can the urge just to give up on mornings altogether and decree that the day now actually starts at 12 noon. Not quite ready for that surrender yet.