Fall back! fall back! fall back!
I am so angry. Not only has the clock sprung forward and stolen an hour off me but everything I've tried to do today has ended in confusion. Carefully composed e-mails failing to deliver or disappearing into the ether, a food recycling bin that manages to project its slurry, in an inexplicable inversion of normal physics, in a miraculous spout up the sleeve of my shirt as I gingerly/ineffectually empty it into the cavernous spoor-green depths of the motherbin on the freezing Spring doorstep.
The state of the art vacuum cleaner that fiercely resists my attempts to open it then suddenly surrenders and dowses me in a weeks supply of cat fur, slutwool (I'm reliably informed that's the new socially acceptable term for the greyish brown fluff-like detritus that mysteriously accumulates under beds, on stairs and around skirting boards as soon as one's back is turned - so-called 'cause of its preference for dressing tables) and millstone grit from space.
All this underpinned by a constant headache from my last shot of interferon that is determined to wreak revenge for my escaping another 36 weeks in its company.
To anyone out there thinking of doing treatment for Hep C with conventional Standard of Care expectations, i.e. one year for genotype 1b, my advice would be ... Don't.
The state of the art vacuum cleaner that fiercely resists my attempts to open it then suddenly surrenders and dowses me in a weeks supply of cat fur, slutwool (I'm reliably informed that's the new socially acceptable term for the greyish brown fluff-like detritus that mysteriously accumulates under beds, on stairs and around skirting boards as soon as one's back is turned - so-called 'cause of its preference for dressing tables) and millstone grit from space.
All this underpinned by a constant headache from my last shot of interferon that is determined to wreak revenge for my escaping another 36 weeks in its company.
To anyone out there thinking of doing treatment for Hep C with conventional Standard of Care expectations, i.e. one year for genotype 1b, my advice would be ... Don't.
If your liver's OK wait and see what happens with the new drugs.
I've had a mere taste of interferon, 3 months of it. And the first month or so was fine, but latterly, honeymoon well and truly over, I've begun to understand why people loathe it.
Bleeding gums, earache, mouth ulcers, aching legs, rage, self-pity and hair-trigger intolerance for others, a seething and almost irresistible sense of injustice, blurred vision, and against the murmuring roar of the tube-train backdrop head-ache, a symphony of arthritic and muscular aches and pains that seem to conduct spontaneous tours around all known (and previously unknown) regions of the body.
"April is the cruellest month", I murmur resignedly as I laboriously negotiate the sprawl of the 23hr sleeping cat on the kitchen floor.
"Its March", says Sue.
I've had a mere taste of interferon, 3 months of it. And the first month or so was fine, but latterly, honeymoon well and truly over, I've begun to understand why people loathe it.
Bleeding gums, earache, mouth ulcers, aching legs, rage, self-pity and hair-trigger intolerance for others, a seething and almost irresistible sense of injustice, blurred vision, and against the murmuring roar of the tube-train backdrop head-ache, a symphony of arthritic and muscular aches and pains that seem to conduct spontaneous tours around all known (and previously unknown) regions of the body.
"April is the cruellest month", I murmur resignedly as I laboriously negotiate the sprawl of the 23hr sleeping cat on the kitchen floor.
"Its March", says Sue.
posted by Nick Mercer at
10:56 pm
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