POCKETS OF ME.

"Of course you can come over, have dinner, stay if you want, it's never too much trouble id love to see you, and I know you need an ear after the last few weeks you have had!

"But you said you're pretty sick, did you say you had been the doctors?

YES about 2 minutes ago, but who ever listens to what I say

"Yes, and they did a blood test, I just have to wait for the results, I'm fine, come over I will make you smile, and cook something nice for you!

Why do I do it, I had to scrape each foot along the floor this morning, one by one until I reached the bathroom, my head throbbing with swollen lumps protruding from my neck. My unsightly puffy eyes were still unmistakably occupying my face. I don't think I have ever been this ill. I must be stupid dragging myself to work, I bet nobody else would! But there is too much to do, too many people rely on me, so I plonked, no collapsed into the bath, and went through the morning agonising motions of getting washed, then painting some colour onto my pasty cheeks.

It was a shock last week when I found a lump on my neck. My health was fine I had been a little tired, but nothing like the weekend just gone. I've been waiting 5 days now for my blood test to come back. It's increasingly looking like glandular fever, so I've prepared myself for this, knowing there is no cure, and that I may feel like this for months. 'Like this' ' just to be clear, is like I have been hit by a bus, 5 times, then dropped off a cliff, and saved by a tribe that stuck me in a boiling pot for dinner. If you can't imagine any of that, then it's pretty much like a really rampant sex session, when you can't walk for 2 days, and you bent your head in such funny positions during the excitement that your head literally span.

"I'm not going to push myself, or have anyone round until I'm fully recovered, I did say that, but my friend has just split up from her boyfriend, she needs a friend right now. I don't know what's wrong with me yet anyway, so I can't claim sympathy, it's not my turn. I really don't want to cook. I had a bag of crisps for dinner 2 nights ago, opening the packet was a strain, and last night, well I was still tired after opening the crisps so I had nothing.

I get my results tomorrow, I'm so excited, I need to know why I feel like this, at least if my tiredness has a name, I can maybe use it to slow down at work, maybe even take a few days off. My boyfriend may even cook for me, but only if it has a name. At the moment I'm just a sick girl, one of thousands of self pitying women, with nothing wrong, and therefore I am not entitled to help. I'm still expected to carry him through his life, god forbid it's too hard to butter a piece of bread and whack a piece of ham between them. If he was feeling adventurous he could even throw it into a sandwich bag!

Is it possible that I can do so much for other people, smile on demand, say the right thing to show understanding, and offer pockets of me that people have no hesitation in delving into? I never delve into anyone's pockets. I never ask for help, or show weakness. I'm starting to wonder who gets the better deal. It certainly doesn't look like me!

"This looks wonderful; you didn't have to go to all this effort

"Oh don't be silly, it's only a bit of pasta and salad, it's nothing, just enjoy it!

"So, I saw the ex the other day¦¦¦ And so it begins. I did manage to talk about me and how I'm feeling. I mentioned that I felt lonely, I seem to have no support at the moment, but in the same breath I think it went something like this

"Oh tell me about it, me me me me me me me me me me. And what do I do? I can tell you are all cringing, "you poor thing, let me top up your wine and you can tell me what happened.

Maybe I should buy one of those books, 'how to reclaim yourself!' I'm too tired to go to the book shop, and who else is going to go?

Focus.

I get my results tomorrow, anyway I can look after me, maybe I can reach into my own pocket and pull out part of me for me, it's worth a try!