If anyone is wondering why I’m still writing about myself, I have to confess that my brain is no longer working very well – I’m coming to why – and writing what’s in the forefront of it is my best shot at writing anything worthwhile.
I can’t begin to tell you how heartbreaking that is. For years my intellect and the wordmill in my head are all I’ve had – because physically, almost nothing worked – now that’s being taken away from me.
It should come as no surprise, then, to learn that I’ve been devoting a hell of a lot of time to researching why. Finally, I believe I have an answer. It’s not one I want.
In hospital, it quickly became apparent, talking to doctors, that my memory was full of holes. This has been a problem for as long as I’ve had ME, and it’s always been temporary – lost words, missing concepts, would always reappear, sometimes sooner, often later, but they’d always come back.
Now, as far as I can tell, what’s lost is gone forever and not coming back – sunk in my Continue reading