Okay, here’s the thing about rheumatoid arthritis that I didn’t know. (To be honest, there’s a whole bunch I don’t know, as this is still fairly new to me.) Fatigue sucks.
Yes, I’ve had fatigue before in my life–read coeliacs, allergies, all those lovely autoimmune things–but this feels a lot more…intense. For the last couple of days, I’ve just been so tired. It’s more than the sort of tired that you get from not sleeping well. This is a “moving through jello” sort of tired, where doing simple activities like laundry sort of takes it out of you. I could take a nap, but it probably wouldn’t help. Exercising helps for a little bit, but then my energy levels drop significantly again.
This is not the end of the world, though.
Yes, I haven’t got a lot of energy. Yes, my grand weekend plans (erm, sewing a bit) were put on hold. But sometimes you have to accept that the world isn’t going to go as planned. Do as much as can be done without overworking and see what happens.
And what happened for me?
I read five and a half books.
Now, most of these books were less than three hundred pages (or just about that long), which means that I could devour them in anywhere from an hour and a half to about two and a half hours. Still, I read a lot of books this weekened and I’m absolutely feeling better for it. Why? Because, without leaving the comfort of my bed, club chair, wherever I was reading, I got to explore different worlds, experience so much life. My brain was moving rapidly and I was having a grand time.
It was almost like the fatigue and other symptoms didn’t exist. And that was wonderful.
So, yes, I read a lot. But there’s good reason for it. And I shall happily embrace it. After all: when the going gets tough, the tough read a book.