Plangent Moaning from the Undergrowth

We are at that point of winter where I despair of warm days ever coming again.

It is freezing. My feet are permanently cold. my lips are falling off. My hair is lacklustre. I need a hair cut but spent all my money on tea towels I don’t need and my husband’s birthday presents, which I do need.

My skin is like the worst cross between parchment and hessian you can imagine. The bits of it that aren’t crunchy or flaky are flabby and saggy, and some of them are all of the above. Then there are the unspeakable heat burns where I spend half my life clutching a hot water bottle to either my front or my back due to cold, menstrual cramps, monstrous hip/pelvic aching. My feet are like hobbit feet crossed with eagle talons. The bags under my eyes are grey and ponderous and make me look like I have just crawled out of the bottom of a well.

These are only the good bits.

It is all vile, and the only thing that saves me from children shrieking and running into the road to escape me when they see me coming, are the forty eight layers of clothes I am compelled to go out in, because otherwise I might freeze to death.

The best thing I can think to say is that my general health is about on a par with my physical appearance, which at least means I am congruous, and if I need to go to A&E I will probably be triaged to the top of the list, whatever I go in for.

Small mercies.

I am trying to rectify the situation in some ways. I have started seeing an osteo chap for the hips/pelvis of doom. While he is crouched over my twitching corpse, I am also getting him to shrink my skull to see if he can do something about the migraines, which have oer leapt their common bounds and are now clustering like rampant fucking velociraptors of the head and appearing once or twice a week with soul sucking inevitability.

I am trying to walk a bit more every day, although the hip situation sometimes dictates otherwise, as do the ravages of a menstrual cycle so haywire I seem to have been permanently bleeding or in a state of PMT since the second week in December.

Once the osteo has done his thing I have a referral to a local acupuncture chap for the menstrual stuff. This may also help the migraines. I am not going back to the Dr again only to be told that I am too old for the pill/young for a hysterectomy and would I like daily beta blockers for migraines that in between clusters are clearly linked to my menstrual cycle and do not require treatment with anti anxiety medicine.

Rather than go down this route again, as I do every six months or so, I just had the consultation with myself and saved myself the misery of ringing the Dr’s receptionist, sitting in his waiting room and talking about the same old shit two weeks after I even slightly wanted to. I even treated myself to a biscuit.

Which cheered me up a lot.

I am a) drinking water, b) taking vitamins, c) attempting to eat well and reasonably healthily apart from the wading through the Christmas sweet pile. I am also sleeping fairly well, although last night’s dream where the Reverend Richard Coles was showing me round the V&A dressed in a kilt was somewhat stressful, even though he was very nice. I am hoping that all this, plus the outside interference, plus the walking and eventually, a new haircut, will work wonders and I will emerge in Spring a better person, even if only on the outside.

If not, I shall have to become either a hermit or the elephant lady, but at least I can probably get some income from both those careers, so all is not lost.

 

2 responses to “Plangent Moaning from the Undergrowth

  1. Try hormone replacement therapy. It will do wonders for many of the symptoms you relate.

    • Sadly, I doubt it will. I am super sensitive to the shifts in my hormone levels and most of my migraines are hormonal. The pill destroys me, and pregnancy is 40 weeks of unremitting misery and illness. What I need is no hormones!

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