A Physical Limit

My energy level pretty much hit rock bottom this week. On Sunday my body started to ache like I was coming down with an attack of 'flu. More or less out-of-the-blue it seemed, I felt a wave of exhaustion rolling in. Monday was hell. I scraped myself out of bed in time to go to work, but I felt terrible, both physically and emotionally. As I was about to leave the house I went to say 'Bye' to Marion and saw that she too looked terrible. I asked her what was wrong and she just put her arms round my neck and burst into tears. I took her to the sofa, sat her on my knee and cuddled her. But within a few minutes both of us were sobbing our hearts out. A wonderful start to the week.

After half an hour or so, we pulled ourselves together and I went to the office. But it was extremely hard to get anything done. The weight of grief was crushing the life out of me. I left around 4pm and when I got home I returned to the sofa and put my feet up. But pretty quickly I was hit by the shivers, I couldn't get warm. So I ended up under a blanket and Marion lit the fire - mid-May and I felt like it was mid-winter. For some reason I couldn't sleep on Monday night, I have no idea why not. But I reckoned that it was pretty important that I get a full night's rest so, for the first time for a while, I took a sleeping tablet. It forcefully knocked me out, to the extent that on Tuesday morning the combination of exhaustion and drug after effects left me unable to stir my ass. Eventually, in the late morning, I started moving and managed to put in a half-day of useful activity, though I probably wouldn't go as far as calling it work.

Since Tuesday things have slowly improved. But I've been useless every evening, able only to read - and as I result I'm on my third book this week. And I've had to drag myself out of bed every morning. I'm sat here this morning in my cycle gear, planning to get out for a short ride to see if I've recovered enough to attempt exercise. It really is just as if I have been sick for a few days, but without the fever, headache and sore throat that goes with a virus. 

A doctor told me a few days ago that basically I've been running on my reserve fuel tank and that it just ran out as well. It's strange to be confronted with such a clearly defined physical limit. In the past if I over did it, I just got sick. But the careful attention of the homeopath and a strict vitamin regime has kept me from getting sick (so far). But I guess even the homeopath, magician that she is, cannot prevent me from running into a more basic physical limit.


The other problem with these days is that more and more memories of Kay are creeping back into my mind. I came home last night and took a tour round the garden, just wandering around in the evening warmth. But I was beset by a jarring discontinuity: in my head I could hear Kay laughing and playing and arguing, but the garden was silent of her. The difference was and is unbearable. At these moments it really feels like I have a foot in two different realities at the same time, one in which Kay is alive and kicking, and one in which she is not. I can oh-so-easily imagine how people can lose their souls, their sanity, in situations like this, where a virtual reality is vastly more attractive than real reality. I suppose I have to be thankful that computer technology is not more advanced, because I suspect that I would have lost Marion to "Second Life" by now, if she could create a virtual world containing Kay. And I have to say that I'd probably be on the way to joining her.