September always gives me a slight, quiet shudder, I almost don't know it's there, but I feel it. It's the anniversary of my going to France to study for a year and becoming ill, with what turned out to be the Coxsackie virus that I'd picked up before going - most likely when waitressing. Though feeling like hell, I went back to France twice - train/ferry/bus - when no one could tell me what was wrong, really dragging myself.
Really dragging myself.
Then I got flu in France. As soon as I could, I came home. Got the bus/ferry/train again. I remember passing houses in Rouen and thinking of Madame Bovary.
Then the nightmare began.
That's thirty-four years ago.
I will be grateful forever to Professor Behan for diagnosing me, telling me why I felt like I was dying.
I will never forgive those who did not believe me. Never.
It has just gone midnight, I have a wee tear, I am not given to self-pity but sometimes I do think, this is all very fucking sad.
I do hope maybe there will be effective therapies in my lifetime.
I cannot absorb this latest research just now, from San Diego School of Medicine, but everyone seems pretty excited about it.
“Despite the heterogeneity of CFS, the diversity of factors that lead to this condition, our findings show that the cellular metabolic response is the same in patients,” said Naviaux. “And interestingly, it’s chemically similar to the dauer state you see in some organisms, which kicks in when environmental stresses trigger a slow-down in metabolism to permit survival under conditions that might otherwise cause cell death. In CFS, this slow-down comes at the cost of long-term pain and disability.”
Dauer state, I like that.