I have decided to create a new class of sickness which is when your body is attacked by a bacteria or virus, but then takes that opportunity, while depleted, to purge itself of all negative energies. I am going to call it metamorphosickness. 

By negative energies …. rather than sounding like someone that believes in crystal healing… what I mean is: those felt experiences that get stored in the body and some of which can cause manifest aches and pains. Usually the body keeps them small and maybe hidden but when it gets going – like in a sickness – it suddenly decides to bring them all out.

I am sick and I have been in this ridiculous state for almost one week. Specifically, last Saturday I got something of a stomach migrane, which evolved into a man flu type fever, which has evolved into alleged bronchitis. And which i have now decided to call pneumonia, because it’s my illness and relatively speaking, for me, I am ridiculously physically unwell. And pneumonia sounds sexy and dramatic. (I just have a bad chest infection) 

As a reasonably stoich person (usually) I have just about lost the plot with myself. I can’t get comfortable, I can’t get the right temperature. I either want a hot water bottle or no clothes. It’s fever after fever, and aches in all parts of my body that aren’t even related to my lungs. And my body won’t shut up with the headache or the shortness of breath or the coughing. And coughing for one week results in pains in muscles you didn’t even know you had. Fuck Pilates, just get this cough. Your stomach muscles just go on and on. It’s not funny. 

My body shivers and pants and is very sensitive and cries at the drop of a hat. I admit it wasn’t a great time to watch the finale of Greys Anatomy Season 11 because DEREK fucking dies. I am serious. I cried for about 20 minutes before I realised Meredith is an actress and Patrick Dempsey probably just didn’t get the money he wanted for Season 12. I blame the fever. But it was the most heartbreaking thing I have ever watched on TV – seeing McDreamy all broken. Anyway, I am going to start crying again, so back to the main thread. 

I figure there is more going on here than meets the eye. So, my plan is to pay careful attention to this metamorphosickness. As I see it, the only way to allow things to move on in your body is to feel and notice them. They are like ghosts these felt gremlins and they need to be gently ushered to the light. 

When I come out of this I am going to be a new woman. 

And when will it end? Well, by comparison, this time six years ago, I was 36 weeks pregnant with two ginormous monster babies weighing 7kg together. I was so huge there was only one comedy sized nightie that would fit me. I slept wedge in a complicated pillow arrangement for one hour at a time.

I gave birth on a Sunday, 10 May, it was Mother’s Day. 

Do you know, all things being equal, I reckon I whinged less six years ago than now. But maybe my body is reliving the nightmare. I didn’t pay it a fig of attention six years ago. Now it’s getting the lions share. 

On Sunday I will be reborn as a new me. That’s the fucking plan. And I’ll watch the first episode of Season 12 of Greys Anatomy and find that Derek’s death was all just a dream. Or it was his twin he never knew about what died, and he has been trapped in a lift in a shopping centre or something without a phone. 

Anyway, this is me six years ago (see photo). I was very afraid. But the big change (metamorphosis of a sort) that happened on the Sunday 2009 was a fantastic experience and made me a much better and fuller person. It’s time to keep growing now and do it all over again (but maybe this time I won’t grow quite that big). 



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