By Carmel Breen in The Irish Times.
Imagine: you slip gently into the Land of Nod as a high-drive, progressive, active, healthy person only to awaken to an unexpected, uninvited invader. Under the cloak of darkness, it has stealthily and rapidly colonised your world, rendering you a useless, frustrated spectator in the brutish annihilation of your hopes, dreams, aspirations and ambitions. Your liberty and life as you knew and planned it, robbed and taken from you against your will. Just imagine!
Welcome to an insight into the life of someone waking up every morning to wage war on the invisible yet omnipotent tyrant otherwise known as chronic fatigue syndrome. You get sick, you don’t get better, as the days bleed into weeks, the weeks seep into months and the months normalise into years, you continue to disimprove.
Let me first articulate the insulting inadequacies of the name itself. It evokes a fluffy suggestion of nothing more than some sliding scale ranging from tiredness to exhaustion. It could be deducted from the name that a bit of sleep would cure all. However, even excess hours of sleeping fail to result in a refreshed awakening or even a sniff of a cure. A name has never failed a medical condition more degradingly.
To read the rest of this story, click on the link below: