What I wouldn’t do to get out of bed. I feel like I'm in cuffs and lack the strength to break them, no matter how hard I try.
My empathy for those that are bed bound has increased a hundred-fold of late. This is only temporary for me and I’ve already started to go mad. Six weeks in and I feel like I’m only a day or two from scrawling scriptures into the wall with my teeth.
I’m trying to keep myself occupied. There’s the eating, but I’ve mentioned that enough. With the increase around my stomach and the fact I’ve moved my legs so little they’re wasting away, I taken on the appearance of a gluttonous stork. They’re supposed to deliver babies, not look like they’re carrying one to term.
I’ve taken to trying to make the mundane more exciting. When I stand-up to put trousers on in the morning, precariously balancing on the one good leg, it always felt a little risky, with one wrong move bound to bring me tumbling down, but I’ve found that putting on a soundtrack to a Hollywood thriller whilst doing it really ups the feeling of jeopardy. I discovered when watching a film in the midst of getting ready.
When Netflix first went to streaming it used to have really specifically odd categories as you scrolled down like ‘Films featuring a strong female supporting character’ or ‘Films with offensive stereotypes for racists’ or whatever. I get that. I get like that. Not racist. But specific.
Not long ago, I went through a phase of watching films where the lead discovers life isn’t as they thought and find themselves out of their depth, petrified and having to come to terms with their place in this new reality. Films like The Matrix, The Last Starfighter and The Boris Johnson Story. Currently, I’m into ‘90s thrillers where the protagonist is wrongly accused of crimes and has to go to extraordinary lengths to prove their innocence’. Films like Sneakers (underrated Robert Redford fun), Double Jeopardy, and the other day, whilst I was pulling on my trousers, The Fugitive (still one of my all-time faves). Although, it takes a particular masochist to be in my position and watch films about people on the run.
Doing that is almost as stupid as starting a blog when you are stuck in bed and nothing interesting happens to you. It feels like I’m cut off – there’s so many interesting things going on in the outside world that I can’t be a part of – family gatherings, friend get-togethers, the Corona Virus. I did have a nightmare the other day that I woke up, finally able to get back on my feet, and stumbled into the outside world, only to find the population decimated by said virus, with me one of the last surviving humans. The Limping (Not Quite) Dead.
A few months ago, I’d probably have been glad of the solitude. Now, after a lot of time on my own the last few weeks, I’ve realised, I am tediously dull company. Honestly I don’t know how you put up with me.
Anyway, it’s late now and I need to go to bed. I suppose the one advantage is, I really don’t have to go far.
