It's all in your head...

I am swimming through treacle, my sinuses a mess and the dwarves that have taken up residence in my head will not stop mining. Shiver then sweat then shiver then sweat. I can't focus on words they swim in and out like a school of fish in perfect 50,000 part motion harmony, yet the motion sickens me, my eyes run constantly the skin around them cracked and stinging from the excema that my own tears always raise. My body reacts to the slightest bump with rainbow bruises, I am marked as loved by dog, and my lack of awareness of self-in-space means I bounce off doorways, walk into tables, put my feet into empty air that I thought was floor and stumble. Solid ground like sponge under my halting step. I am old at 40 years, quavering, infirm. The weight falls away from me, a dress size gone in two weeks. It could just as easily be pilling on, but that's because "I eat too much" and I lose weight because I'm "not eating properly". I know that this is *just the ME my dear, no point in giving you antibiotics, unless you get a secondary.* The mucus flooding the back of my throat from my infected sinuses tracks the infection on, marching like green goblins set to invade. Temperature spikes again and I am left sweating and shivering and helpless washed up on the white shore, tangled in bedding that is sodden with sweat, unable to reach out for the water bottle and tablets that bring relief for four hours out of six, wracked with spasm and cramp muscles a-twitch like St Vitus' victims.

"she's not really ill. M.E doesn't exist, she's just lazy, wanting all the money she can get out of the government".