Difficult Decisions and Brain Fog


It’s a decision that I face every day, maybe even twice a day. Or, at least, I should be facing it but because of the brain fog I often can’t remember if I have remembered to or not. (Life’s got very like that).

You rip open the packet, out it comes and off you go to use it.  Just like that.  In everyday, ‘normal’ life.  You don’t think anything more of it.

It was Husband who needed one first. He grabbed the first one out of the pack, he clearly wasn’t worried about what colour it was, and started using it.

Of course, when I needed one, I ended up with the other colour.

And this where my baffled brain (cell, singular, most likely) gets bamboozled every day, or whenever it is that I remember to brush my teeth (because, sadly, I don’t remember when I do), because my Husband has the pink toothbrush. I have the blue. He doesn’t have a problem with it. I don’t have a problem with it. I mean, after all, this is just a toothbrush that we’re talking about, something that we spend a mere six minutes average with daily, and I’m fully aware that the pink/blue thing is an entirely modern concept (perhaps ironically). However, however … Mongrel Beast is confused.

(Mongrel Beast likes helpful prompts and reminders about daily living, appreciates stereotypes to simplify proceedings).

It doesn’t help either that Husband is deeply mistrustful of my ability to use the appropriate toothbrush. If he catches my hand quavering over the tooth glass then I’m in for an interrogation. It doesn’t reassure him that I can never remember when I last brushed my teeth much less vouch for which apparatus I may have used at the time. And then, naturally, under the heightened pressure and emotion, Mongrel Beast will usually fail to supply the answer to which toothbrush is indeed the correct one. (Although, Mongrel Beast does at least grasp that guessing is not likely to end successfully so just haws like an asthmatic fish).

(Even our dearest are apt to forget, at times, that which is the monsters such as Mongrel Beast that eat away at our cognition and that which is our true Selves).

Nor does it help that the toothbrushes are only differentiated by a slight band of their respective colours. To the addled brain cell, they are both white toothbrushes. You have to look closely. And then, of course, remember. (I’m not doing well with the remembering thing at the moment, did you know?)

I have taken to placing my toothbrush upside down in order to make (or, at least, in hope of, making) it clearer to myself. I don’t think it dries as well though.

And, then, of course, sometimes I forget to…

(Life’s got very like that).

Pain Relief


– What is that noise?  Oh, it’s such a strange noise.

– That noise is silence.

– Silence?  I do not know it.

Disordered Eating


Always clear your plate
Here , have some more
Always say thank you
Don’t you know the trouble I went to?

Eat up, eat up
Otherwise you won’t grow big and strong
There’s children in Africa starving
Or there was once a war, you know
Are you spoilt or ungrateful?

Never waste food
It’s so expensive
Never say no, thank you
What do you mean you don’t like it?

If you’re sad or lonely
Food is medicine for the soul
Or even when you’re ill
Then food will be your cure

Make as big a dish as possible
Well, won’t everyone want seconds?
Ladle it out by the bucket
Well, aren’t you hungry?

Serve up a huge ole slab
Blow everyone away
Is it talent or just impressions?
Never mind, there’s supposedly love in every bite

Love is food-shaped
It is smothering, choked upon
Aren’t we fortunate?
Here have some more

Food brings us together
The backdrop to all the fights
The solution to all the problems
Food solves everything



Will you?
Will you really?
My heart leaps with hope
Don’t I say
Too late
My heart feels not thinks

We Only Look at Covers Now


Have a read:-




A great chasm hewn in the ground

Hard and deliberate, rectangular and right-angled, unnatural

Step to the edge, risk an unwelcome dive

Awkward landing, gut-wrenching pain

Deep and abyss-like, an eerie carcass

The wide curving steps were once an invitation, a touch of luxury

Now they’re at odds to everything, chipped on the edges

Like some sacrificial altar, wrought in reverse

Bowing to take the plunge

Descent instead of ascent, into the bowels, the pit

The cool crystallic walls

Feel hauntingly silent, like a snowy day

The echo and crackle under foot

The world above and outside is lost

An abandoned, redundant space

At once so empty yet so suffocating

Debris huddles in the corners, as if too afraid to let go of the edge

The fuzzy spray of some misplaced enthusiast

With a message to proclaim, little relevant and far from sight Who wanders with spray can in hand?

The child who drew on the wall?

Compulsed to leave a mark, tempted by any apparent canvas

Greedy for anywhere to leave a mark

Me, I see beauty in the blankness

Hurt by the angry ink marring the simple, the pristine

As if drawing a line under hope, potential, future

If only things could remain the same

Like a snapshot of sunnier times, water splashing

Simpler, innocent, blissfully ignorant

How cruel reality is, like this aching void

A reminder of what may have been, a threat of what will never be again

Can you drown in an empty pool?

Hip Surgery and ME: Society Has It Wrong


idiosyncratic eye:

How do we respond to others’ health problems? With cards and flowers and promises of support and get well wishes? Or with suspicion and judgement and oblivion and avoidance? Maybe it depends on the nature of theur health problem. Maybe we only perceive the visible as ‘real’. Maybe we only understand what is required of us as onlookers and wellwishers in what is really quite a narrow spectrum of health problems. Maybe we don’t have the rnergy or understanding or commitment to be there for the ‘long haul’. Maybe we only understand two outcomes of illness: cure or die. Maybe we need to learn, to be taught, to train ourselves to see, understand and accept a bigger picture, a bigger model of illness.

Originally posted on Thoughts About M.E.:

I am proud to share a note that my husband, Ed Burmeister, wrote last week. He initially posted it on Facebook only where it received a lot of attention and was shared more than 250 times. It really resonated with the community.

Therefore, I talked him into allowing me to post it here as well. I am blessed to have such a supportive and loving spouse.

Last Wednesday, I had a complete hip replacement.  It was a short procedure (1-1/2hours). No general anesthesia required.  I was out of bed the day of surgery and home after two days.  On Monday, I started driving again and really could have done so on Saturday already. Yesterday, I returned to work. I was comfortably working away, largely free of pain.  I walk without a limp and with no assistance and am pretty much unrestricted in my activities. I never needed narcotic painkillers after…

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