Hot Sunday

I'm tree-cutting in the heat; because if I didn't, you see, I would explode.

My head trundling,  I am  figuring out  what to do .

Linda's ear and jaw throb  in pain, in  unison with her toes,  pins and needles are darting up and down her whole body ; a fraction of what is going on : how can she be expected to cope with this ?

On a bad day, you feel like the most useless person on earth, because you can't help. Your mind races  , so tired, down well-worn routes, confined by  incomprehension .

Even if we had  the best consultants on the planet here; some chance, would they have a clue? This is Very Severe ME; no one's doing any research.

Days like this;  the isolation is annihilating .

My wife, is seriously ill , deteriorating, arriving at  levels of agony previously unknown.

The tree had died.

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