Remember how I couldn't see the Yarn Harot last fall even though I was less than an hour's ride from her? It's deja vu all over again.
Stephanie Pearl-McPhee will be speaking at the Philadelphia Book Festival tomorrow and then signing books. I was hoping that I could go, despite the fact I'm still recovering from the trip to DC. My husband was pretty determined that I should go, and was willing to wrangle the wheelchair and try to get special accommodation from the Free Library folks (who have been friendly).
But I'm too ill. I would be in a full crash before I even got to the room filled with several hundred rowdy knitters. And waiting in line for her autograph would be completely impossible, even in my wheelchair. The noise and crowd is more than I can handle, let alone the strain of the outing itself.
I love Stephanie and I love her new book. She has been so kind to me and the various Swatchys that my friends have taken to her events. I would like to tell her in person how deeply she has touched my life with her humor and kindness. But I cannot.
Once again, CFS has interfered and stolen something from me. Once again, I have to tell myself that I can't do something even though I desperately want to do it. I have to give this up in order to safeguard my health for the next week. It doesn't matter how fun it would be; going to see Stephanie would put me in bed for several days and extend my current crash for a week or more.
My blog-friend Sue recently observed that coping with CFS takes incredible strength. It takes strength to stop yourself from doing something you would enjoy because you know how severe the consequences would be. I don't know, but maybe it is like the strength that is required by an alcoholic to say no to a glass of champagne at someone's wedding. You know you cannot take part in small, happy thing because of the consequences that will follow. You have to tell yourself no, and find a way to be ok with it.
Can you understand what this feels like?