ME/CFS-Induced Crashes

Those of us with ME/CFS often have difficulty explaining our symptoms to others.

I frequently suffer from what I call "crashes". For me, a crash typically lasts for about four hours, and involve me lying in bed with the duvet over my head, my blindfold on, my earplugs in, the curtains shut, and the door shut, whilst either unconscious (distinct from sleeping) or in a semi-conscious stupor, barely able to speak or move.

So far, so good, you may say. But how to explain that actual feeling that I get whilst lying there? So I've devised a way of helping our loved ones experience that feeling, in five easy steps.


ME/CFS-Induced Crash Simulation Guide

Step 1


Make a cut in the left side of the body and remove the liver, lungs, stomach and intestines.


Step 2



Wash these internal organs, and pack them in natron, to dry them out. If you're out of natron, rock salt is an acceptable substitute.



Step 3



Using a long hook, smash the brain and pull it out through the nose. This can be discarded, since it will no longer be required.





Step 4



Stuff and cover the body with natron and set it aside, to dry out. Reserve all of the fluids and rags for later.


Step 5



Once thoroughly dried-out, remove all natron from the body. Wrap the dehydrated internal organs in linen, and return them to the body. Stuff the body with dry materials, such as sawdust, leaves and linen, so that it looks lifelike.

And you're done! That wasn't so bad, was it? Your loved one is now ready to experience an ME/CFS crash.


This procedure is recommended for friends, relatives, or even perfect strangers. Anyone, really, who regards you with disdain as you try to explain what it's like.

Plans are afoot to experiment on some Atos examiners, since it has been suggested that they, too, may benefit.

Christmas Checklist

Having ME, many of us have memory problems. So here's a checklist for Christmas Day, to help you get through it. Many of the items will be par for the course, so you can simply tick them off once you've done them. Other items can be treated as reminders. Others still, as suggestions.

You'll soon notice that it's based on a fairly typical, traditional, British, vaguely Christian, family Christmas. But there should still be something in there for everyone, even if your own circumstances on the Day are very different.

And if you're on your own for Christmas Day, maybe you could come on the HFwME Facebook group, if you are able, for a bit of human contact.

Essential Christmas Day Checklist

• Give someone the gift of socks
• Repeatedly tell the kids to open the card before the present
• Feign gratitude for a present you don't like
• Gorge more roast potatoes than should be humanly possible
• Consume numerous Brussels sprouts
• Repeatedly tell the kids to actually read the card
• Pass wind in a strategic location, thus ensuring someone else gets the blame
• Take a tactical nap, eg to avoid washing-up
• Eat seconds of Christmas pudding, even though you already feel bloated
• Repeatedly tell the kids not to be so ungrateful, and that some children don't even get presents
• Ask yourself why you're having turkey, when nobody particularly likes it
• Insist everyone eats breakfast before anyone is allowed to open a present
• Pledge to buy less presents next year, just like you did last year
• Vow to go out for Christmas lunch next year, in the full knowledge that you'll never do it
• Drink some sherry, even though you don't like it
• Repeatedly tell the kids that Father Christmas won't give them any presents at all next year if they don't stop being so ungrateful
• Wonder why, every year, you buy brandy butter and rum sauce, even though nobody ever eats it
• Have a discussion about the merits of goose fat versus beef dripping
• Make some mulled wine, and watch people grimace as they politely drink it
• Give someone the gift of handkerchiefs, even though you know, and they know, they'll never use them
• Complain about how Christmas has become so materialistic
  
• Suggest a game of charades, as though, somehow, you're living in the 19th century in a manor house
• Remark on how old the Queen looks, and isn't it time she stepped-down
• Give commentary on how the excesses of the day are likely to affect your bowel movements
  
• Make some eggnog, before remembering that it has the consistency of snot
• Watch the Corrie Christmas Special, whilst questioning how they can all afford to be in the Rovers the whole time
• Watch the Eastenders Christmas Special, whilst criticising the storyline for being morose
• Initiate a sing-along
• Drink some Baileys after Christmas lunch, even though you already feel sick
• Make a secret stash of your favourite Quality Streets / Roses / Heroes / Celebrations, before all the good ones are gone
• Have an argument about something that you've kept bottled-up since just after last Christmas
• Question why Cadbury even bother putting Fingers of Fudge in tins of Heroes
• Play some dreadful new board game with the kids, made worse by them having an insufficient attention span to listen to the rules
• Lament the loss of the Only Fools & Horses Christmas Specials
• Tell the kids that Christmas isn't just about presents
• Ask why on Earth they substituted Galaxy Truffles for Twix
• Use the phrase "it's all about giving, not receiving" at every conceivable opportunity, whilst not believing it for a minute
• Decry the well-meaning but sadly-misguided friend who adopted a donkey on your behalf
• Realise, once again, why it is that you only see those relatives at Christmas
• Ask why they never put any decent films on any more
• Spend ages wrapping streaky bacon round cocktail sausages
• Realise that Delia's surname seems to have been dropped, and vow to doggedly reinstate it, every time you refer to her, because what makes her think she's like Cher or Madonna?
• Curse the smug TV chefs for making you feel so inadequate, especially Delia (Smith)
• Contemplate the names of other TV chefs, and whether they too are known by forename alone, eventually concluding that it's only the very smuggest who are referred to as would-be pop stars
• Conclude that, actually, all TV chefs are smug, except perhaps Keith Floyd, but he's dead
• Resist the urge to batter your mother
• Be told by the kids that Christmas is, in fact, just about presents, and realise they're right
• Succumb to the urge to batter your mother-in-law
• Go to bed feeling thoroughly exhausted, thoroughly sick, and thoroughly cheesed-off
  

Okay, so it may have been somewhat tongue-in-cheek, but I hope it gave you a laugh. Merry Christmas!

Why is it always your arse that falls off when you laugh?

The Encyclopedia Britannica describes laughter as "rhythmic, vocalized, expiratory and involuntary actions". Way to make laughter sound singularly unfunny, EB. Seems unlikely, then, that laughing could cause one's arse to fall off. But we need to be sure, lest our next burst leaves us without our seating appendage.

Muscle-wise, some fifteen facial muscles contract, and the diaphragm and the muscles of the abdomen, respiratory tract, and back are given a workout. No mention of gluteuses minimus, medius, or, least of all, maximus.

The epiglottis, that flap that switches between breathing and eating, half-closes the larynx (voicebox), which is why breathing becomes gaspy. This whole area could hardly be anatomically further from the arse. Unless, of course, the subject is alledged to talk out of theirs. That would certainly mix things up. An investigation into which orifice an individual deploys for the purposes of vocalisation is beyond the remit of this blog, but could, perhaps, be the topic of a future blog.

The zygomatic major muscle, the main lifting mechanism of the upper lip, is stimulated. This explains that twitching of the upper lip you get. This becomes increasingly noticeable, when circumstances dictate that you resist the urge to laugh. Like when you're at a funeral. If anything, perhaps the top lip is likely to work itself loose as a result of laughter, as you struggle to keep it down and still, so as not to betray your underlying urge to laugh.

Which brings us on to the head in general. The head, of course, is also prone to detachment as a result of laughter. This, at least, makes some sense, since we are known to throw our head back in laughter. It's surely plausible, then, that something could make us laugh so much that we momentarily forget to exercise due diligence whilst throwing our head back, do so in an over-zealous manner, and the head, in fact, falls off. It's only logical.

Why, then, is it always one's arse that is described as falling off when one laughs excessively? The arse, we now know, has nothing whatever to do with the business of laughing. Were anything to fall off, it would clearly be one's head, or possibly just one's top lip.

LMAO? I don't think so. That's just plain silly. LMHO, or LMTLO? It's just possible. And that's science fact.

Peace at last

Walking through a churchyard, I noticed a tombstone inscription that read "Peace at last". That's nice, I thought, absent-mindedly. Then I started to think about it.

If we assume the peace is to the benefit of the deceased, then how is that a good thing? Okay, so you're dead, but at least it's nice and quiet, and you're unlikely to be disturbed? Not a great consolation, really, is it? Let's say he lived in a noisy environment, one causing him frequent interruptions. Surely even that was preferable to death? In fact, if he was so bothered by this lack of peace in his everyday life, he could have just popped-in some ear-plugs and locked the door. Or moved. But no, he'd favoured death. So much so he may even have invited it.

But perhaps the beneficiary of this peace is actually the deceased's widow. Having waited for years, decades even, for him to shut-up, to stop clattering about the place, and disturbing her, she couldn't resist thanking him for finally granting her the peace she craved. She may have even helped him along a bit.

The more I think about it, the more I realise that there is not one possible good reason for this inscription. At best, it's a poor consolation for the deceased, or an eternal reminder of his lacklustre decision-making. At worst, a token of gratitude from his widow for being good enough to die, or a confession to his murder.

"Peace at last"? Not so very nice after all...

The minefield that is: talking to women

I saw a young lady I hadn't seen for a while, and she looked great. I mean double-take-to-make-sure-it-was-actually-her great. I knew she'd been dieting and now gathered from her attire that she'd been going to the gym. She'd lost weight and toned-up, and now looked fit and healthy. That's fit as in fit, not fit. But it was more than just that. There was something else about her I couldn't quite put my finger on. What is it the French call it? I don't know what, but she seemed to exude a new self-confidence. Perhaps she'd paid more attention to her appearance, like recently washed her hair, a lick of paint, whatever. Anyway, she'd obviously been working hard on improving herself and it showed.

She's a lovely person, so I wanted to tell her that I'd noticed, to give her a morale-boost so she'd feel even better about herself. Therein lay the problem.

As a man, one with possibly a touch of Aspergers-type social ineptitude, here's what I would have said:

Wow, you look great. I had to do a double-take there to make sure it was you. You've lost a load of weight, and the gym's clearly working for you. Have you just washed your hair? And have you got make-up on? I'm saying this to make you feel good, not because I fancy you.

Clearly I would have to run it through the female filter before uttering it. Something like:

Wow, you look great. Have you been going to the gym? You look glowing.

Okay, that would sound like I was chatting her up. Badly. A rethink was needed. How about:

Wow, you look great. I had to do a double-take there to make sure it was you. In a good way, because you look so different. Not that you looked awful before or anything. Just different. Have you lost weight? You have? I didn't notice you had any to lose, but I s'pose you must have had then. Have you been going to the gym, too? You have? That must be why you look so glowing and healthy then.

That would just make far too big a deal of the whole thing. So I settled for:

Hi!