Chaos to Cosmos
The path from chaos to cosmos was discovered by telling one's life story

Sunday, 12 September 2021

Coming to the end of a holiday with ME

Combe Martin : Combe Martin Beach
cc-by-sa/2.0 - © Lewis Clarke -

So our week was coming to an end as Friday was our last full day. The weather that day was horrible, hence I didn't get my own photo and am borrowing this one, but we did walk onto Combe Martin beach. For all of about 30 seconds. We'd really run out of places to go as it's a bit difficult when a) you're trying not to go indoors because of covid and b) trying not to be outdoors because of the rain. 

Whilst I can still remember childhood holidays where I know we visited places, but I never actually saw them, due to being stuck inside the car, with it's steamed up windows, eating our sandwiches, I had no wish to reexperience it.

For lunch, we were luckily able to dodge the showers and sit outside the Tides In and Out CafĂ©, in Borough Road, Combe Martin. We'd been there before. May I heartily recommend their fish finger butty: fish fingers - about half a dozen good quality ones - in a big soft bap with salad and tartare sauce. Proper treat. 

We weren't so lucky at dinner time. Remember, I mentioned that our holiday grocery order had Brexit shortages? So, we'd run out of meals. There was the usual problem that nowhere, that looked any good, ever had space; I didn't feel safe to sit inside and the weather wasn't going to let me sit outside. And after the not so great experience with the fish and chips, I didn't want to risk a dodgy takeout, so we went to Tesco and settled on a pseudo-Chinese meal-in-a-box. I didn't check the ingredients, but had survived similar. Now that I have checked them, I can't see anything listed that instantly alerts me to any potential intolerance, but once again, my system was having none of it. My gut immediately bloated, I felt sick and the pain in my stomach hit about a 9 on the Mankoski Pain Scale.

We came home on Saturday, via Tiverton, where we made a short visit to a friend (and sat outside) - this was the first time I'd socialised at all since March 2020 - and I'm pretty sure I did an Oscar-worthy performance of being relatively well.

We also stopped off for lunch at Elsie May's - which we chose, purely because of the outside seating and proximity to parking and were very impressed by their service, friendliness and food. Completely exceeded every expectation.

But a week in Devon and not once did we have a Devon cream tea. We had a takeaway scone, jam and cream in Minehead - which, of course, is in Somerset, where I can put the jam first and not risk extradition - but we had a hankering for a proper afternoon tea on tall cake stand, with sandwiches, scones, cakes, tea ... Everywhere with outside seating and looked any good was always full. 

We'd planned to stop off at the family graveyard on the way home, but new building and road closures meant it couldn't be accessed without going a long way out of our way. By that time I was too fatigued to deal with another delay or extension to the journey, so we gave it a miss, but this meant yet another disappointment in a long line of disappointments. There's a f*cking limit.

To be honest though, I just want to cry. It doesn't feel like I've had a holiday, because I wasn't able to enjoy much of it, firstly because of the stress leading up to it and not being able to rest (not helped that I've never got back to my baseline since getting the first COVID vaccine in February); I could only manage to be out for a couple of hours or so a day - I didn't feel well at all with daily headaches, sore throat, Post-exertional malaise (PEM), then I had back / neck / shoulder / hip pain on top (and my ankle still hurts), and had I been at home, I would definitely have stayed in bed, but a) the concentration camp wasn't pleasant enough to want to spend all day in, b) the bed wasn't comfortable enough (nor was the sofa) and c) I really had to 'show willing' so him indoors had some break or at least change of scenery. The result is that I spent most of the time in those odd hours basically in a fog or trance, wanting it over, not really 'being present' (I can barely remember half of it and none of conversations), only just about holding it together. 

The fact that I was 'below par' (even below my usual baseline) made everything so much more difficult, like being more susceptible to recurrent cold sores; faster and more violent reactions to food intolerances; I cannot stand for more than seconds at any time, but the fact that 'Devon was full', so there was a severe lack of space in restaurants, on park benches, etc., didn't make that any easier to cope with. (We've tried time and time again with wheelchairs, but I can't tolerate them outdoors with all the pain-inducing agitation of uneven surfaces.) It's another layer of difficulty having to try to avoid COVID (especially when nobody else is) and once the weather changed, that became even harder still. In the end, I gave up.

We picked the cats up from the cattery on Sunday morning. This time, I remembered to take puppy training pads. One of the cats pooped again, almost the moment the car started, entirely missing the puppy pad, of course. One of them managed to projectile vomit, which was strained out through the mesh 'window' of their crate. When we got them home, the marmalade one was wet and covered in puke, so I washed him down in the shower. He jumped out of the bath, dived into the sh*tty litter tray and emerged covered in stuck-on litter up to his armpits. Back in the shower. Catch cat. Towel dry. Push him out the bathroom door so he couldn't get to the litter again, at which point the other furry idiot with sh*t on his paws also escaped before I could clean him, because by that point and after cleaning up the crate and all the puke in the bath, I was so fatigued I was gripped in pain to my core and collapsed on the floor, unable to move. 

F*ck, I NEED a holiday, but I don't think I could survive another one!