I have never felt so tired in all my life.
Not just tired, but also full of fever.
Not just tired and full of fever, but lacking in appetite.
The last four days or so have been awful. The accident had probably tipped me over the edge and I've been totally without motivation to do anything except sleep.
I've still done what I've had to do - I've worked, I've walked dogs, I've kept myself busy, I've fulfilled regular tasks and duties. But it's been such a massive effort to do so.
My mood has been at the lowest ebb it's ever been; at least in terms of having no tangible reason for it. I've not lost my job, become seriously ill, suffered a bereavement. So I've pursued my life as best I can because I've not felt justified in kicking off my shoes and letting the world go by while I sleep it off.
Physically, I've felt poorly. I've been full of fever - flushes, shivers, stretching, tiredness uncured by actual sleep, headaches. I've got the most hacking cough in the world which three different over-the-counter products have failed to shift. My stomach feels like my throat has been cut, yet when I have got something to eat, two mouthfuls and the appetite to feed myself has entirely disappeared. I've had a weird feeling of both pain and hunger in my stomach all week.
People tell me this is my body shutting down after the accident, telling me 'no more'. I work split shifts on the radio, including nights, plus the club on a Saturday. I am at my most tired on a Sunday morning when I can climb into bed and sleep all day. I haven't had an alcoholic drink for two weeks, and rarely partake anyway. I sleep well, if slightly unconventionally. Exercise comes courtesy of two miles a day with the dogs. I haven't smoked for four and a half years. So much of my life is lived correctly, and yet...
However, as I'm typing this, you can sense I'm feeling better. All I have now is the cough. The only thing on my mind otherwise is that I'm back at the club tonight, two weeks after the accident, and snow is forecast again...