The long awaited cymbal has at last arrived late yesterday, so my day is laid out now to be a busy one. I have the shopping arriving this morning and once I have phoned Jake he will be here, probably for about an hour, although I am thinking now that it might be a better idea to ask him to come tomorrow to collect his toy.
I’m not totally sure why but I have noticed in the last few months that Adam and I are snipping at each other more and more. We always have, but the playful edge is there somewhat less than normal. I can only guess at the reason but it started when I started to need to go to bed earlier than before, clearly when he comes home from work between 5:30 and 6:30 and I am in bed before 9 this means we have a very limited amount of time in the same place. I have tried many time now to sleep longer in the afternoon so that I might have a chance of being awake through the evening, on Monday I stayed in bed for nearly an 3hrs, timing my sleep so that I would be awake at 6pm, Adam actually came home at 5:30 but even getting up at that time, didn’t stop going to bed at 8:30. There seems to be no combination of length or timing of my siesta that changes anything at all about my eventual collapse into sleep. Being ill all the time puts a great deal of strain on any and all relationships, I love him deeply but when things are more active with my health, I find it hard to be as attentive in my listening and even to be interested in some of what he says. It isn’t that I not interested, but constant pain, questioning of what is happening and why, means there are at times little space for chit chat, add in my concentration problems and virtual endless exhaustion, there is a row of small powder kegs waiting to explode in turn. Just as relationships take two, conversation does as well, so with me distracted and short tempered, it isn’t really that surprising he in turn is snipping at me and short in his ability to listen patiently waiting for to stutter my way through the few things I do have to say.
Most conversations between us now seem to center around things in the news or TV shows, it’s hard for me to join in with his chatter about those he works with, or the place that he works as I have no reference on which to be able to really join in. The longer the outside world has slipped into another dimension, the harder it is to talk about what happens in it. It isn’t that I am not interested but it is somewhere that no longer feels real, like it is a long ago watched TV program. All the references that we require to feel part of the world are no longer there, I have lost the visions of people and how the behave, the things you hear and see around you everywhere, not just the people but the colours, the noises and energy that grows inside as you take it all in. All of that has been replaced by a carefully managed environment that I can live in without distress from the disorder, the sudden and the unexpected, without the clatter and chatter, the cars and other vehicle, or the shocks and surprises that all cause me to be unable to cope. When you live within four walls, without human contact of friends and work colleges, not seeing for real what was once the instigators of the things everyone talks about, well what is really left for me to speak of, what I right here, my health. I can’t spend every evening going over all those aches and pains, the details that I write here, if I did talk incessantly of nothing else, then the snipes and impatience would grow, not lessen.
Some people make a comparison between housebound and being in jail, a comparison that isn’t accurate, but has it points of connection. In someway prisoners actually have an easier time than I do, as they have wide and varied people to interact with, and there for a rich source of things to fill their minds and conversations with their friends and families. I am closer to solitary confinement than most of them will ever get, but I don’t feel imprisoned by being housebound at all, if anything I am imprisoned by my health. If tomorrow we suddenly had the money to move house, to buy an electric chair and everything was adjusted to give me freedom, I would be no better off. All the freedom in the world would not change my life as I would still be housebound, unable to go out, as it isn’t the walls or stairs that keep me here, it is my health.
I have so often said that housebound is no worse than earthbound and I still full heatedly agree with it, although what I have just written may not make it sound that way. What I have lost is a minor inconvenience to me and a frustration to Adam, I apologise for not having the sparkle in my words that I once had, but I have learned so much from everything that my health has reveled in my lifetime, that to me a sometimes dull subjects in my conversation is a really minor point.