Hulk Smash

The Hulk contemplates life with a new Bryan Ferry haircut

In the corner of the world that I am in, there is an insidious damp cold consuming the country. A Dickensian fog covers the streets and I am certain that I saw an urchin begging for more. For the fibromyalgia sufferer, this is especially annoying as that same damp cold feels like it is crushing the bones. Now there are, of course, worse illnesses to have and I have no intention of belittling them. But this is a fibromyalgia blog so you will have to go through some of these whinges on my part in the hope that there is a nugget of wisdom in there somewhere.

Anyway, back to the damp cold. When you are young and your parents speak about drafts from open windows in hushed, fearful tones reserved for nuclear apocalypse, you assume that they are slightly crackers. And the idea of cold weather being damp sounds like the insane rantings of two people who you share DNA with. Then, one of two things happens, sometimes both. Firstly, you get old and begin to feel the incredible misery of ‘the draft’. Secondly, you receive an illness where your body becomes a ludicrous barometer, the humidity of each day being keenly felt in the joints. The freezing fog that has descended on the country feels like someone is crushing the bones in your body and the fibro sufferers good friend – other than copious amounts of Co-codamol – the thermals are cracked out of their case and wrapped around the limbs. Hugs from relatives, loved ones and over-emotional stalkers have a vice-like feel. And yet it’s not like you are cold, for many fibromyalgics are always close to a fever. Delicate, sweaty and yet bones aching from the cold – it’s not the coolest look. Your gait becomes like the child-catcher from ‘Chitty Chitty Bang Bang’ and your stalk through the streets in a way that strikes fear into those you meet. If I thought that I had a grim, post-apocalyptic look before, I am now a grey-skinned monkeyoid that you would walk across the street to avoid. Interesting times. Still, after work, walking the dog and the cavalcade of other things that have to be considered, it does seem to motivate to get the next book done.

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