grumpy brumph
I'm having a right old grump on today. Sitting here on the sofa, feeling pretty sorry for myself with a dose of covid - and that's just the most recent thing that has kept me sat here feeling pretty sorry for myself.
The whole year so far has been "as soon as I feel better, I will get started on... (whatever of the many things that I could do when I feel better), just need to get over this... (whatever I have up with me at the moment)".
Early in the year I had done a bit of normal life while I was waiting for my first cardioversion (electric shock procedure) to correct my AF heart problem, but I was unable to get going on my usual winter-weight shedding/spring fitness campaign with any great vigour, for fear of doing too much for my heart in its arrhythmic, misfiring, and low-efficiency state, and ending up... well, dead basically.
The AF got sorted out at the end of March with an electric shock reset procedure, followed by a week or so of recovery, then I developed a horrible cough. That was miserable, scary and violent, to the point of coughing up blood and retching during coughing fits, and kept me firmly rooted in just doing the bare minimum I could physically do without setting off the cough and dying of asphyxiation (the coughing fits left me whooping and gasping for air at times) for nearly two months.
After that subsided, suddenly I had a weird loss of voice and was coughing blood up at night. The GP was concerned about cancer as I'd had a smoking past. Investigations led the docs to wanting to remove a polyp in my throat, and an operation was done to remove it, with the intentions to do a biopsy to find out what we had. But at least I could do stuff again at that point, because my heart thing was sorted out, so while waiting for the op I managed to do a fair amount of garden work and finally got started on my cycling trainer program.
I had the op (where they couldn't find the polyp any more, but found some left over gunk from it possibly bursting instead) and had a two week recovery period from that. Quietly.
I haven't mentioned the MS lulls that seem to target the points when I was just starting to feel stronger after each recovery period, leading to another week of wobbly weariness and sofa bound not-a-lot doingness. But they were in there too. But nice that my incurable chronic disease was hardly getting a look in for a change, eh?
That takes us up to about a month ago now and, relatively speaking, things felt like they were finally sorted out at only nine months into the year, and an optimistically clear path was opening up at last.
I'd missed a whole season of gardening. The greenhouse was a failure for tomato production, the veg beds were untended jungles, and the meadows out in the front gardens needed a lot of clearing work to give me a good base for starting next year. All the work was heavier now, and was basically clearing stuff out to try to be ready to do something better next year.
Then I had a re-occurence of the atrial-fibrillation, a collapse, and an emergency room visit via ambulance. Almost indecently quickly, I was home again and sitting on my sofa, mended via electric shocks again, but recovering at home again by tea time that day.
Good old sofa. Always here for me to be recovering on.
Anyway, another week of recovery from that latest cardioversion procedure and things are settling down again. I'm starting to feel stronger. I have a list of jobs to do that will need me to be fit, AND I desperately want to actually get fit. So I get started.
For a few days.
J, who at first was just sniffling a bit, feels a lot worse one morning. Yes, a positive test for covid. She's ill, so I'm being nurse to her as she's sofa-bound (good job we have his and hers sofas!)
A week later she's healthy again and back to work. I'm now sat here feeling grumpy, sore throat, aching, tired, as the covid is doing on day three of whatever it's going to do to me.
That - sat on a sofa feeling pretty ropey - apparently is pretty normal for me for this year.
Grumpy brumph
NB: brumph is my username on Mastodon
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