Nope, Can’t Do It All

I can’t do it all. I can’t even do most of it. I am trying so hard to figure out how to make that work. 

The Atlantic’s long covid coverage is really good; a key observation for me was that people who are depressed don’t want to do anything, but people with chronic fatigue have a whole long list. It’s not that I’m too depressed to do things. I am sad because I can’t.

My brain doesn’t want to hold on to anything, so I’ve outsourced short-term memory and scheduling to my phone. I keep rearranging the lists to make more of the things happen, but it’s not working. Naaatch.

“No social media before breakfast” keeps me from doomscrolling. But writing is the easiest way for me to communicate, and the socials keep me connected with friends and family. Not to mention the news.

Actually seeing friends, on the other hand, is … really hard. I have trouble coming up with words and shaping sentences. Listening is even harder. I’m working so hard to remember what someone is saying that I miss the next thing, or I’ve forgotten some crucial part and I can’t understand what comes next. Group conversations? Forget it. 

When I write, I can go back and edit. I can google* to try to find a word. And man, I have been giving google a workout.

Exercise makes me feel better, as long as I do it carefully, with plenty of rest after every set. This means that a weight workout takes an hour and a half. Before Covid Me alternated arms and legs and finished in 20 minutes. 

Yoga also make me feel better, because that bike crash (the bad one, in 2017) left me with a damaged spine and hip, and pain that makes it hard to get out of bed in the morning. 

Walking Stella is good for me physically, though it tires me, and having her in the house keeps the deep dark black pit a lot farther away.

All the balance exercises, eye exercises, smell training, music, meds, and supplements are supposed to heal my brain. But if I did them all every day, I would have no time left to rest. If I don’t rest, I crash. If I crash, it takes anywhere from days to weeks before I recover. 

Plus, you know, I just got married, and I’d REALLY like to be a half-decent wife and at least clean the kitchen after Catherine makes us fabulous meals, maybe do some laundry, keep the place a little tidy.

So I’m at a loss. 

My newest strategy: A little is better than none. Just one eye and balance exercise every day, instead of all ten or so, mornings and evenings. A set of squats, a couple stretches. 

That might leave me time for half an hour of email triage and 45 minutes of academic writing, which is all I have the energy for anyway. Somehow, I have to find a way to be okay with that, and try to avoid asking the universe if this is going to be the rest of my life.

Any ideas? Do let me know.

__________

* Actually I have switched to Ecosia, which promises not to sell my data and to plant trees every time I use their browser. Because yeah, I AM still a tree-hugger.

Meds, Cognition, and Time

I think I have finally found a way to manage all the meds that doesn’t take a ton of cognitive energy, which I have so little of, all day.

Between all the medications and supplements, there are sixteen pills. Then there are the two inhalers, one  I snort up my nose, one that gets added to food, and one that has to be dissolved in liquid. It usually goes in my morning coffee and—thankfully—has no taste or texture.

I have to remember to take two as soon as I wake up. There’s a hefty handful each with breakfast and lunch, and few more at dinner and at bedtime. 

I’ve had reflux for years, and meds have never helped it, so for a long time I’ve had to be careful what I eat, and when. Adding all these pills to the mix was a process of trial and error to make sure anything that might bother my stomach goes in relatively early in the day and with food. Rolaids and occasionally Pepcid come in if I screw up.

Sometimes I dread eating breakfast because I know it means I have to choke down six more pills.

Before Covid (BC?), I had a hard time keeping track when I all I had to take antibiotics four times a day. Organizing and remembering all of the stuff I’m on now, mostly for brain and lung damage, for which it provides some welcome relief but not nearly enough, has been pretty overwhelming, and it has taken me many weeks to find a system. And remembering if I took a pill or used an inhaler? Yeah, right.

After much searching, I found a pill organizer that is actually big enough for the breakfast and lunch doses. Bonus: the daily inserts come out of the organizer, which makes them so much easier to fill and empty than the kind where everything is connected.

And I’ve finally figured out how to use the iPhone “tasks” app effectively. I’ve divided up the day into two-hour intervals and I can check everything off when I do it, and then uncheck at the end of the day to be ready for the next day.

But, you know, I’m supposed to be finished with breakfast and all the morning meds (plus three full glasses of water) by 10 am. I just took the morning meds and I’m still working on the third glass of water and I’m an hour and a half late. I am trying to give myself the grace not to stress about that.

Covid Brain Damage

Covid damaged my brain. “Brain fog” is too vague a term. It also implies something on par with jet lag. I have lost some kinds of cognitive ability, but not others. Writing this post is documentation as well as part of the process of figuring it out.

My short-term memory is shot and my medium-term memory isn’t so great either. I’ve always been the classic absent-minded professor, and I’ve developed mechanisms to cope: writing things down, creating alarms for myself, leaving notes around. I have a list of my lists, to make sure I won’t forget they exist. All of this memory management, plus more impaired memory, slows me down a lot more than it used to. 

But words. Words are hard. I have trouble remembering their meanings and I have trouble finding them.

I can’t keep up when people are talking, I guess because my brain is so slow. I get confused, and then I get lost in the conversation. Weirdly, I come up with the first letter of a word, and then stutter while I try to get the rest. Or I find the word, but in the wrong language. So social interactions are exhausting. 

Reading is harder than it used to be. Reading! My mother taught me to read when she was pregnant with my brother so I could occupy myself. I was so young I can’t remember not being able to read. I was the classic bookworm, always with my head in a book. More than that. My mom called me the “reading monster.” 

Word recall makes writing harder. Google is great for finding synonyms and even helpful if I can only describe the concept I am trying to name. But it’s also hard for me to organize ideas, at sentence level as well as in paragraphs and longer texts. All of this is tiring: I’m good for maybe an hour. Writing this post is wearing me out.

(On the other hand, my ability to do KenKen hasn’t changed. I had a lot of fun with the now defunct Digits puzzle, and I’ve gone back to Nerdle, which I’m actually finding easier than before. Arithmetic, logic, strategy. Wherever those things are stored in my brain, it’s unaffected.)

This all matters because I can’t do my job. Any of my jobs. 

There is no way I could teach a class, and manage the interplay of lecture segments, student activities,  discussion, and questions, while keeping track of all the students to make sure no one is lost, distracted, or tuned out. 

And then there’s grading. Why grading is hard when teaching literature, where there are a lot of different “right” answers yet also some wrong answers, is a whole other blog post.

I was on sabbatical when I got Covid, and I had a lot of editing and writing balls in the air, and I almost immediately dropped them all. Some of them have been picked up by other people. I have some very, very patient editors. Even staying on top of email is … well, impossible.

I am doing better than I was during the immediate post-covid weeks. Physical therapy and occupational therapy helped some, medications are helping some, fancy new glasses made a difference (and I am getting fine-tuned ones next week). I have a new list of medical professionals to set up meetings with, based on recommendations from my cousin the psychiatrist and the fancy eye doctor.

But progress has stalled. And I don’t know if or when it might get unstalled. Stay tuned, I guess?