Someone somewhere said that in the novel I did not make enough of the brain fog you get with ME. Maybe Helen Fleet was not so affected, or maybe she wanted to underline the physical (you would need to ask her), but I certainly have real problems with concentration, especially if I am preoccupied by something. Whatever that something is - and especially if it is bad, but also if it is good - my head is expanded with that one thought and my concentration is zapped: I forget things, I drop things, I become ditzy as hell, I can't find words, I'm sure I appear dim. This has been such a week, exhausted by Easter family stuff (which has been lovely), and stressed with eye appointments and some other stuff, city dwelling, I have found myself, at least three times, in important conversations, searching frantically for the right word, and it is simply not there, not even a whisper: the word I want has been quietly erased from my bank of words. And today I remembered a Bowie song, 'Words' I thought it was called and John Lennon had written it, but some googling showed me it is 'Across the Universe'. I get so moved by 80s' (or 70s') music, this is what I was listening to before I got ill, and after I got ill. A lump in my throat. Always.
3 comments:
Concentration is a perpetual battle, but I've always loved that song and this is a beautiful post.
I love both versions though each has entirely different memories for me.
What you describe re. preoccupation is familiar. For me it is akin to doing something very important or life threatening whilst being asked to do something familar and mundane at the same time: like driving down the fast lane of the M1 at 120mph whilst peeling potatoes --- one just cannot be done without it being at the expense of the other. It's as if our brains now only have so much they can hold and after they've reached 'full' everything else spills over.
Hope the eye appointments go well.
Glad you had a good Easter with family
You have expressed this brilliantly; just perfectly, and that is a beautiful song.
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