I look normal. I probably act normal too. You'd probably not be able to tell that I'm sick.
Most days, I just feel off-colour, and wish I had my old self and energy back.
But when I have a viral infection, like I do at the moment, on top of the usual feeling, it's not good.
I'm going to try to explain what the viral overload is like. I've had a bad viral infection (and no voice) for just over 5 weeks.
I'm not looking for sympathy or remedies or comments. I'm just documenting this for myself, and anyone who may need it.
After 5 weeks of a viral infection, I still look fine, I'm still trying to act fine so you may not know I'm not well. On the inside, the act of putting one foot in front of the other, of placing one word after the other, one breath after the other is a struggle. I want to sleep but there's only so much sleep you can have when you're trying to live a somewhat meaningful life. I need to do some work each day even if only an hour or so (because bills, etc.). I need to do something for me (for my sanity). I need to eat well (for my health) and interact with my husband (for our relationship). These may seem insignificant things, but achieving them each day can be incredibly exhausting...even after 8, or even 12, hours of sleep!
My brain is foggy, so retrieving information from the depths takes energy, time and patience (and I'm not very patient!). Working requires some amount of brain power, and sometimes too much brainpower. I make more mistakes than usual, a lot more, which is frustrating and annoying and makes me feel useless.
Writing is almost impossible because I need brain power to find words, think of characters, story, events. I need to use the creative part of my brain that is just too exhausted after the day job. I can scribble ideas or short stories, but I can't write a novel.
My body aches. Not all at once, but parts at a time, in no particular order, so I think I'm going crazy. At one moment, my knuckle on the third finger on my left hand throbs so badly I think I've injured it. I touch gently, probe, rub. After a few moments, it eases. Then my shoulder blades pound. Or maybe it's my knee, or hip, or little toe. The aches and pains are in perpetual motion. Never the same place for any length of time. The only pain that's there constantly are headaches. The difference is a matter of how much they pound.
My glands are swollen, some days to the size of golf balls, and they ache. Constantly. Sometimes I can feel them swell, or pulse, and that's a little disconcerting. The ones on my neck and under my arms are the worst.
When I do something extra (like maybe I've committed to something in advance and feel I have to go, or it's an event for someone important, or something I'm keen to do) I rest before hand, and plan rests for afterwards because I know it's going to wipe me. I go, even knowing I shouldn't be going, and while there, I remain quiet and still, using as little energy as possible. I take all the care in the world not to be my 'usual' self and overdo it. I enjoy the event, even if I'm subdued. I think it was worth it. Until then the next day... when every symptom is worse.
I shouldn't have gone, I knew it and I went anyway, and it's the worst feeling ever. I've set myself backwards. Hurt myself. Idiot. Self-recrimination can be almost overwhelming.
Emotions go haywire. I'm angry that I'm ill. Angry that other people get sick and then recover in a week or so, yet for me this same virus drags out for weeks at a time. I'm upset that my life is on hold - I can't do what I want to do, can't speak, can't socialise. I'm trapped and upset and frustrated. So frustrated at life that it's dealt me this cross to bear. I don't like being ill, I don't like not being able to do things or function fully, I hate that I'm trapped. I'm disappointed that somewhere in the last eleven years, I've lost myself - the fun, social, witty, quick, over-achiever who organised crazy things. I'm grieving that loss of self. The death of my career, my social life, my fun, my inability to worry, my ability to bounce back from everything.
Western medicine has proven to be useless in dealing with this weird kind of illness (CFS). When I have an illness on top of CFS, it's even worse.
"It's a virus, drink plenty of fluids and rest." is the usual mantra for normal people with a virus, and it passes within a few days. For me, when the virus hangs around for longer than a few weeks, the concern sets in among friends and family who make me believe I've got some dread disease and so I go to the doctor, who now also panics, and starts sending me for blood tests and other tests, using up energy that I don't have. Setting fear inside me when any emotion eats energy, and it's another strong emotion I don't need, giving me no rest. The blood tests show I have a viral infection, so they do more tests to determine what virus. It's indeterminate but the Glandular Fever and Ross River Fever viruses are detected...yes, from the past, that's what started all of this. And then before they send me for more tests and more worry, I bail. I go back to fluids and rest and trying not to let emotions overwhelm me. For eleven years I've gone through this cycle, and still it happens because 'doctors are gospel', when they're not. Not for me. They can't treat me. There is no 'cure' for a virus and my CFS was set off by viruses.
After the doctor's rounds, I know I'll just have to wait to get better. It takes me longer, I know that. I need to believe that. The more I do. The more I worry. The more I have to justify my illness. The longer that healing takes.
I'd like to sit and cry, rage against the world but that takes energy I just don't have. Besides, there are people worse off than I am. I have to remember that and get through another day.
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