Watching the Abflex presentation at 4am

The Abflex machine I bought off Lee Majors at a jumble sale.

I was sat on my sofa, church bell outside striking four, dog annoyed at my nocturnal activities. I watched eagerly as the Abflex was keenly advertised by a strapping gentleman with no body hair and a woman who looks like she could quite easily take me in a fight. I had no intention of buying the product but, awaiting the halogen cooker commercial with near-febrile intensity, I decided to watch. This is the netherworld of the fibromyalgia sufferer. A strange twilight existence where one is launched from their bed at some ungodly hour due to pain, stiffness or restless legs. A world where the sweet embrace of co-codamol is eagerly awaiting like a hug from a damp, but beloved aunt. A strange sphere where, despite being completely disinterested in alcohol bar the occasional Pimms, one is blessed with intermittent drunkenness brought on by the heady madness of ‘Fibrofog’. Those of you who have yet to dip your toes in the joyous madness of fibromyalgia may wonder what this is – what is the fibrofog that sufferers talk about in hushed tones? As noted, it’s a glorious blanket of wet mud over the head where colours are ludicrously intense, sound is discordant and the mind begins to go off on bizarre tangents. Now, those who know me or who may have had the modest misfortune to read one of my books (yes, I am a writer to the humanitarians out there) would suggest that may mind was never very linear and my babblings were always that of the slobbering hobo you avoid in the town centre outside B&M. Yet ‘Fibrofog’ gives me a superpower. A rubbish one. Imagine the least exciting, marginalised member of the X-Men. The one that would have to stay in the big house waiting for the gas meter to be read while the others are taking on a galactic threat. With this fibrofog I am able to mutter and hypothesise in the most gut-wrenchingly inane way.
“Why did the Beach Boys buy that Hovercraft?” an example of a recent blathering.
My wife gains entertainment from this and shows that I might not have looks, brains, skills, money, success, charm or anything else one might consider an irresistible lure to the opposite sex, but by jingo I can talk utter nonsense with the best of them.
This blog is inspired by experiences with an illness that pushes one to the brink of insanity, crush the body with pain and leave one feeling like a most pointless member of society. I don’t promise anything other than self-indulgent and semi-cretinous thoughts on this most uncool of illness and hope that, sufferer, companion to whinging sufferer or weird voyeur, you will consume these with mild interest.


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