I grew up in a small village in Oxfordshire, dominated by the Ancient Ridgeway and an almost constant procession of race horses. Childhood was a petting zoo (cat, dog, budgie, tortoise, jackdaw, chickens and a pony) interspersed with school, swimming, orchestra, Brownies, music lessons, free-range friends and falling out of trees. My primary teacher (Mary Leach) encouraged me to tell stories from a young age and it grew and evolved.
I have a passion for rock music, coffee and tattoos; currently reside in a luxury cat palace with my partner and two pampered moggies. Back in the day when Google + was a thing a very wonderful gentleman encouraged me start writing again and sharing my stories. His name was John Bailey and sadly he’s no longer with us. His gentle faith and insistence that I have stories to tell combined with a move to Aberdeen 2020 was the catalyst for me to pursue my writing.
Hobbies include: collecting books, marbles and people watching.
My health started to deteriorate in August 2024 and by September I was unable to work. I don’t wish for this illness to define who I am, but it has had a massive affect on my life and I feel it is my responsibility to talk about it.
Long Covid
The statistics: in my age range there is only a 5% chance of a full recovery, a 46% of a partial recovery and the other 49% no-one really wants to talk about.
So what does it feel like for me?
- Low energy every day
- Post Exertional Malaise (it takes me 2/3 days to recover from a trip to the Doctors)
- Brain fog
- Dizzy spells and muscle spasms
- High pitch cortisol whine in both ears
- Upset Stomach
- Still feeling weary after sleeping
- Pain everywhere
- Intolerant of light/ sound/ hot/cold and stress
- Conversation is exhausting
- Low immunity
I’d Like To Go HomeNow
For a fraction of a second I’m ‘me’ again; as I breathe in the new day. I’m happy, sassy, creative, caring and fun. Almost instantly waves of pain wash over me and I grieve, once again, for what used to be.
Welcome to the new ‘normal’ where it takes a minute to roll over in bed and at least three minutes to sit up and cautiously ease my legs down over the side. Pain in my feet, knees, hips, back, shoulders, neck and eyes. A grey curtain of fog hangs in my mind; heavy and unyielding. Every thought has to wade through it like pushing cooked asparagus through treacle. The worst part is still feeling tired. I’m so completely exhausted, weary and rundown. It doesn’t matter how much I sleep, I always feel the same. Then just for shits and giggles, alongside this there’s the constant high-pitched whistle of cortisol – the soundtrack to my life. Sometimes it screams and others it accompanies the thuds of my poor heart desperately trying to force oxygen around my unresponsive body.
Light, sound, taste, texture, temperature, conversation, comprehension and movement are all challenges now. I exist on ten percent energy, everything that I choose to do detracts from that number. I really do mean everything: smiling, brushing my hair, taking a shower and getting dressed are all part of this equation. Some days I do it, I make a focused effort to go out into the world. I know that it’s ‘good’ for me but I also know that I will suffer exceptionally severe repercussions in the following days (the joyous Post Exertional Malaise). But I do it and then an acquaintance says “You look well”. Deep in my soul a demon screams obscenities. I know that they don’t understand and that they mean well. So, I manage a thin smile and say “thank you” as the mask gently melts and red-hot tears burn my eyes.
I think that I’d like to go home now!
© Erika Lightbear
Normal
‘Your test results are normal’
Yet another wasted day
Of stress and tests and hassle
And that is all they say
Trust me, I’m not normal
Not even remotely so
You can write it on my headstone
For everyone to know
Here lies someone normal
But it killed her anyway
‘Cos pain and shit were happening
Every fucking Day
© Erika Lightbear
Erika Lightbear 