I don’t know that there are many things that make me feel better.
I mean, does rest make me feel better? Or does it just stop me feeling worse? That’s a big one to unpick.
Salt sometimes helps. Sugar, at others time. Painkillers stop pain becoming too debilitating.
But do I see improvement thanks to those things, or do they just help maintain the status quo? Which is being unwell without respite.
There is, however, a seemingly never-ending list of things that can make me worse.
• Exertion. Of any kind. Thinking. Speaking. Reading. Watching moving pictures. Using the stairs. Making a coffee. Bathing.
• Noise. Certain volumes. Certain pitches. The duration of the noise. The frequency of it. The reverberation of the bass through my body.
• Company. The physical presence of a human being (or guinea pig) never mind the actual conversation that might come with it.
• Light. Blue light. Cold white light. Bright light.
• Digesting certain foods. Red peppers are the most recent one to add to The List Of Foods That Aren’t Anna Friendly.
• Alcohol. Just NOPE. Although I can now tolerate wine in gravy again. How wild of me.
I remain ill, despite limiting and avoiding those things that exacerbate my ill health. And mostly isolated. With no soundtrack to help me through the days. No immersing myself in a book to escape reality.
It doesn’t sound so good when you write it out like that. But at least I have the knowledge to avoid the things that exacerbate my health as best I can.
Isn’t it all much easier said than done though, with life carrying on around you in it’s bright, noisy, over-stimulating way?
IMAGE: Anna in bed under a white duvet cover. She’s smiling at the camera. Delores, a guinea pig, is lying next to Anna.