In the dark midwinter when people look forward to the coming of the light – the days of longer sunshine and warmth – I find myself fighting a battle with the night.
In the last three days, I’ve had two bulbs blow, one just a few minutes ago. A few weeks back, another blew on one of my side lamps. The first didn’t matter so much, as I still had the overhead light, and it is easy to change. Then, Friday, the overhead bulb went out. Fortunately, the local supermarket is open 24 hours, so off I went and found an environmentally friendlier bulb to fit. It was a little tricky to replace, requiring a balancing act on the end of my bed base, but it fitted and I could see inside my wardrobe again.
The bulbs blowing is not surprising, I guess, when I consider I only recently moved in and have no idea of the age of anything. When next I visit the supermarket I will be stocking up, as the darkness seems to be fighing the incoming light.
In other news: I am feeling awful about being sick. I would have thought the “bug” might have subsidied and, to a point, it has, but it has triggered an IBD flare which is worsening. This would inhibit my ability to assist my friends. Months ago, I promised a very dear, cherished friend to assist her during this crazy shopping period. I have been desperately hoping my health would improve, so have not given her any indication of my not being able to fulfill my promise. It is generally considered the season of goodwill and, in effect, I was helping out two friends by volunteering my services, so I feel even guiltier about cancelling.
The problem with the unpredictable nature of an IBD is that it can make you feel like you are constantly letting people down and, more often than not, it is a last minute thing. Working odd hours, as I do, makes this even more of an issue. Fewer people work at night, in smaller teams, so when you can’t make it, you really can cause problems. Why work those hours then? I learned early on with my condition (it would be 10 years before I was diagnosed with Ulcerative Colitis) that public transport was not my friend. If you have an “accident”, you have nowhere to hide and it can be a long trip home. If you drive, no-one knows but you and it’s possible to get yourself home, and you and the car cleaned, without anyone knowing the embarrassing truth. The flip side being it’s a longer commute, even after hours, and that means I need to time my breaks in order to determine if I can travel all the way to work without soiling myself, which would result in my turning around for home. I have an app on my phone to supplement my knowledge of toilets en route, but, even at night, there can be delays. I also have to gauge my pain levels, take as much pain relief as I can, and then wait to see if I can reduce to a level comfortable enough to allow me to concentrate at work.
It’s a lot of guess work, and sometimes I get it wrong. Sometimes, I will be well when I wake and, just before I leave, or even en route, I find myself under seige. I then have to call in and, for my employer, it’s very late notice indeed. Sometimes, I make it to work, get to the end of my shift and then find myself stranded there waiting for meds to kick in, because I cannot make the trip home – this has become a more frequent issue in recent times – the difference here is, it’s only me being inconvenienced and nobody (but readers of this blog) are aware, except, perhaps, the cleaner who comes in four hours after my shift ends.
My social life, and interation with friends has also suffered. My constant planning way ahead, and then cancelling last minute is relationship destroying. I’ve let family down many a time, too. It gets to a point where you stop promising anything, or planning anything. And, then, the darkness wins.
Now, I am just trying to find the light.