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(not) Working title
The best thing about the beige diet at this time of year is that it features (and is fact pretty strictly limited to) warm porridge for breakfast.
In a return to the bad old days I am home again for the nth day in a row. Fortunately the twitching has mostly settled, but the residual muscle ache is incredible. My highly illegal hot bath last night helped, but not completely. The candlelight was nice.
The hands feel a bit stronger today, although they never got as weak as they have been in the past. My typing got a bit clumsy, but I could do it; I didn't need two hands to drink water. I couldn't have held a paintbrush, but at this rate I'm sure I'll get some done on the weekend. The head was (and still is) noticeably fogged, but not exactly up (down) to the vacant stare level.
There is light at the end of the afternoon, however, for I have a massage booked for later today. Not a lot of massage per se will happen; the best treatment for leg muscles in this condition is gentle regular stroking.
It's a collaborative effot, for as she works, the masseuse and I both sense the growing chaotic response in the muscle fibers ("it's like they're having a party in there"). At about the same time we both say words to the effect of "here we go" the limb in question gives an almighty heave entirely divorced from anything my brain might try to tell it, and then it settles down, ticking like cooling metal.
After that, if she can convince my jaw to open I'd be most appreciative.
She finds me fascinating.
In a return to the bad old days I am home again for the nth day in a row. Fortunately the twitching has mostly settled, but the residual muscle ache is incredible. My highly illegal hot bath last night helped, but not completely. The candlelight was nice.
The hands feel a bit stronger today, although they never got as weak as they have been in the past. My typing got a bit clumsy, but I could do it; I didn't need two hands to drink water. I couldn't have held a paintbrush, but at this rate I'm sure I'll get some done on the weekend. The head was (and still is) noticeably fogged, but not exactly up (down) to the vacant stare level.
There is light at the end of the afternoon, however, for I have a massage booked for later today. Not a lot of massage per se will happen; the best treatment for leg muscles in this condition is gentle regular stroking.
It's a collaborative effot, for as she works, the masseuse and I both sense the growing chaotic response in the muscle fibers ("it's like they're having a party in there"). At about the same time we both say words to the effect of "here we go" the limb in question gives an almighty heave entirely divorced from anything my brain might try to tell it, and then it settles down, ticking like cooling metal.
After that, if she can convince my jaw to open I'd be most appreciative.
She finds me fascinating.