Hurrah for Health!

First a gratuitous picture of MasterB:
Now on with the post.
A long time ago in my giddy youth I had a few days with very little sleep and a lot of boat travel between various places in Greece and the heel of Italy. The memories are hazy, but I do remember when we disembarked at Brindisi quite late one evening how the ground seemed to come up to greet me. Since then I have experienced a milder version of the same after travelling on the sleeper between London and Fort William, or after several days aboard das Boot.
You’ll notice a travel theme here.
On Tuesday my only transport was Shanks’ Pony, but on Wednesday morning when I tried to get out of bed, the room span and the floor tilted menacingly. I sat down and tried again after a few seconds. This time I moved more slowly, but the effect was still there. When I walked to the bathroom it felt like my feet did not know how to connect with the ground, but when they did, shuddering echoes stormed up like sand disturbed by giants.
It made me think of one of those films where footsteps ring out, overloud on damp cobbles in empty night time streets, or cartoons where the earth trembles and quakes as the ogre arrives at the village. If I moved my head too quickly I had to grab hold of something to stop myself from falling. Nausea came through me in a rush.
The challenge of two flights of stairs to let MasterB out, and then later back in, was scary to put it mildly, though I imagine my clinging on to the bannister rail might have looked quite comic to anyone watching. I didn’t dare go outside. The chances of falling over seemed horribly high. I had some writing to do, so I nested on the sofa and made slow progress with it, feeling very very sorry for myself.
I am not brave about illness. Continue reading