Twonky Me

I wanted to write about how the internet should be our saviour from the throw-away economy but I'm pissed off.

I'm at a new level of pissed off. I'm pissed off to the point I cant even stay on topic. I'm vain, well not vain but I'm extremely insecure about how I look.  I own one pair of trackies I can wear to work (one day per week) that are (were) a uniform colour, comfortable and neat.  I don't anymore and will have to be wearing them tomorrow. 

The other casualty of this is my (relatively) new jumper that I got as a birthday gift.  its now no longer very warm, overstretched and more pilled than Keith fucking Richards.  The pants are a mottled black thanks to the pilling on them from being put in the wash with things that shouldn't go in the wash with them.  The jumper (no longer fit for anything but the shed, but no good for the shed because inside the shed is fucking freezing) in only three months old and cost a bomb, mostly in freight.  The pants are three weeks old.

Who doesn't like nice things? I cant well expect that I'll just replace either item and it'll result in me begrudgingly sulking around in them feeling like a twonk.  Trying to be Mr rational and keep on keeping on but it's had when the 3 month old clothes (that I really like) now resemble the daggy ones that are a decade old.

Rant ends, I'm sitting up watching the laundry so that Mrs I.M will have clean clothes for work.  And making soup.

I.M

Mortally Me

Interesting that the thoughts I'm trying to get out have been rattling around in my head for a few weeks but Im struggling.

It began with being unwell, being unwell is a pain under any circumstances.  Being unwell while having a chronic autoimmune disease is pain..ier?  The first and probably most embarrassing sign of being unwell is waking up in a puddle of one's own faeces (Think Spud from Trainspotting).  Why is that important? Every sickness that I seem to experience involves my gut, its getting harder to tell if its a cold, gastro, flu, or that my IBD is back.  There are few things that I've experienced that are now as humbling as the early stages of being unwell.  Something to really take the wind from one's sails.

So there's the being unwell, and not knowing what is wrong but then there's the dying part.  Having had an attack bad enough to have had my large intestine removed gives me a new and slightly deeper level of paranoia about this.  I am more likely to develop cancer than the normal person but in understanding probability and large numbers, I know it's not a given.

On Friday a workmate died.  Its the second person whom I've worked with in two years to lose the fight with cancer.  It reinforces the knowledge that I will only orbit the Sun a finite number of times and that my number is likely to be less than the average.  Aside from all of the feeling crap and the implications that; it's a cold with lots of added features thanks to my altered body it introduces that period of doubt.  That point when you know "I'm not sick by I'm not well".  Being on the way down with lots of silly and generic symptoms.  Difficulty sleeping, headaches, dizzyness.  I don't for a moment think I'm terminally ill but I also remember that neither did these people.  

The pessimism, worry and stress are all extremely tiring.  The hurt and loss only make that worse too.  Things will get better and I'm sure that at some point I'll be able to confidently fall asleep again.  I just with I knew when that would be.

Maybe they were the thoughts I needed to get down somewhere.