Contemplating the small things and their effects
The next-to-final stage in recovering from a really bad chest infection is for me to be so tired it feels like I've got glandular fever all over again. That's my body's signal to sleep things off. This is why I'm here, at my desk, and not at the march in March (this and the gammy leg). If I don't sleep it off, then I get into yet another round of inflammatory pain, you see, and I really don't need that.
What happened was this morning I thought my body was telling me to get an extra hour's sleep after the neighbour woke me up. Four hours later, my aches have finally diminished.
If today is still too tired for original work, then I'll do what I did yesterday (which is why a couple of people know I wasn't sure if I'd make it to the march today) and edit. If I'm somewhere between the two, then I'll write.
I think there's a lesson in this about finding out what is causing aches and pains. I got this virus over two weeks before the Sydney interview and assumed that I was just reacting to lack of sleep when they changed to something else. Then I assumed I was just nervous about Sydney, when I probably should have been on antibiotics already. Sometimes infections don't show the obvious symptoms and they don't do so for obvious reasons: a very deep chest infection can produce asthma attacks, but no coughing.
There's also a lesson in how much one can do when not well (lots!) and how much needs redoing when the brain returns (some, but not as much as I'd feared) and how many plates and dishes one can destroy before one realises that being perimenopausal (for it has returned) combines very excitingly with lack of breathing to cause interesting accidents. I've been telling people I needed to diminish my possessions, and this is certainly one way of doing it.
What I intend to do this afternoon is sit in my comfy chair in front of my netbook, and just dribble away at work. I will make inroads, even if it's only a few paragraphs an hour or I only clean up typing issues.
This method works, in a funny way. I used it when I was finishing that first doctorate. I developed glandular fever (mono) in my final year and my deadlines were unchangeable and my father was dying (which is one of the several reasons I ended up in Canberra rather than in the US working as a Medievalist). I did any final research in bed (for we used books almost always, back then), and my computer was on the desk less than five feet from the bed, and I dragged myself to the computer the moment I could sit up straight, and I did as much typing as my body/brain allowed and then I napped and read and napped and read some more.
I think this is why I was stupid about the virus. Once one does something, it's easier to fall into known patterns than to say "I can do something about this." I say this from the wise perspective of a morning asleep and from the wonderful vantage point of my breathing starting to properly return. It looks like yawning, but from inside it's parched lungs gulping new air.
By Wednesday, I'll have to find real excuses to complain, or maybe I'll just get back to normal life. Wednesday's going to be fun, though, so I don't mind having nothing to complain about. My students will have an excursion, and I myself will be doing the first three modules of the ANU's Educational Fellowship Scheme. I would've done this sick (for I am not infectious), but it's going to be much easier with more air and less ache inside me.
What happened was this morning I thought my body was telling me to get an extra hour's sleep after the neighbour woke me up. Four hours later, my aches have finally diminished.
If today is still too tired for original work, then I'll do what I did yesterday (which is why a couple of people know I wasn't sure if I'd make it to the march today) and edit. If I'm somewhere between the two, then I'll write.
I think there's a lesson in this about finding out what is causing aches and pains. I got this virus over two weeks before the Sydney interview and assumed that I was just reacting to lack of sleep when they changed to something else. Then I assumed I was just nervous about Sydney, when I probably should have been on antibiotics already. Sometimes infections don't show the obvious symptoms and they don't do so for obvious reasons: a very deep chest infection can produce asthma attacks, but no coughing.
There's also a lesson in how much one can do when not well (lots!) and how much needs redoing when the brain returns (some, but not as much as I'd feared) and how many plates and dishes one can destroy before one realises that being perimenopausal (for it has returned) combines very excitingly with lack of breathing to cause interesting accidents. I've been telling people I needed to diminish my possessions, and this is certainly one way of doing it.
What I intend to do this afternoon is sit in my comfy chair in front of my netbook, and just dribble away at work. I will make inroads, even if it's only a few paragraphs an hour or I only clean up typing issues.
This method works, in a funny way. I used it when I was finishing that first doctorate. I developed glandular fever (mono) in my final year and my deadlines were unchangeable and my father was dying (which is one of the several reasons I ended up in Canberra rather than in the US working as a Medievalist). I did any final research in bed (for we used books almost always, back then), and my computer was on the desk less than five feet from the bed, and I dragged myself to the computer the moment I could sit up straight, and I did as much typing as my body/brain allowed and then I napped and read and napped and read some more.
I think this is why I was stupid about the virus. Once one does something, it's easier to fall into known patterns than to say "I can do something about this." I say this from the wise perspective of a morning asleep and from the wonderful vantage point of my breathing starting to properly return. It looks like yawning, but from inside it's parched lungs gulping new air.
By Wednesday, I'll have to find real excuses to complain, or maybe I'll just get back to normal life. Wednesday's going to be fun, though, so I don't mind having nothing to complain about. My students will have an excursion, and I myself will be doing the first three modules of the ANU's Educational Fellowship Scheme. I would've done this sick (for I am not infectious), but it's going to be much easier with more air and less ache inside me.
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