Billygean.co.uk

“How’re you feeling?” MindReader says as soon as he gets in the door. He has been to Frightened Rabbit. I have not. This brings the gigs I’ve missed because of illness total up to three (Newton Faulkner, Frightened Rabbit and CROWDED HOUSE).

“Rubbish,” I say as I unload a plate from the dishwasher.

His arms come around me and I bury my face in his neck.

He seems to be working out how to say something.

“By May-Billygean’s standards…” he says, “you know -” he gestures to the dishwasher, to me standing, “I mean – you didn’t MOVE for months. It’s not happening again.”

And even though I don’t think I feel much better, he has a point.

Okay.

11 hours’ sleep. No better. In fact, ear is painful again and glands behind ears are up, so probably worse.

You know what really annoys me? The STIGMA. I just text a friend to cancel, and I suspect I shall not be able to see Frightened Rabbit (band) tomorrow. And people will not just think – oh, a flu – they will most likely think Billygean’s ill again…

I just said to MindReader, I am not too freaked out that I’m going to be ill for 10 months again. It’s just, because I was ill for 10 months, I can’t even cope with being ill for two days. I am immediately transported to last March, or May, or October, whatever, and I have run out of things to do. What do people DO? All I want to be doing is working or shopping or sitting in the sunshine.

Actually, scratch that. I DO think I am going to be ill for 10 months. And why wouldn’t I? The last time I felt like this, it lasted from January until May and was then replaced by even more sinister symptoms.

Go on body, surprise me.

I step into HeadofLawCollege’s office.

“Hello!” I say brightly.

“Oh, hello,” he says. “You’re looking well.” HeadofLawCollege is looking well, too. He is plump and Brummie and pink.

“Thanks,” I say, sitting down. “I just thought I’d let you know I’ve done three weeks now and everything is fine. Not even that tired!”

“Oh, great,” he says. He looks at me. “So was it the Coeliac Disease all along? As we were under the impression you had glandular fever…”

Something in his tone, the way he waves his hand casually surprises me. “The doctors don’t really know,” I say slowly. “Some say the glandular fever woke up the Coeliac Disease, but I think I had some symptoms before… like IBS type stuff. So maybe I had both and the Coeliac Disease prevented me getting better more quickly.”

He nods slowly, his hands resting on his belly.

“It’s funny,” he says, “you know when you just get a feeling about someone, the colour of their skin and stuff… well, I thought, that girl doesn’t eat enough.”

“Well, I did, but my intestines didn’t,” I say smiling.

“I remember when you came in for those exams in 2008,” he says, “the ones you erm – didn’t -”

“Mmm,” I say. I enjoy stories about how much better I am now.

“I mean you weren’t even – recognisable. So sallow and so so thin.”

“Thin?” I have put on weight but during the illness I don’t think I lost any.

“Oh yes,” he says. “When you didn’t know what was wrong you were getting sicker and sicker and thinner and thinner, and I remember saying to DirectorofStudies – maybe she’s anorexic? Should we talk to her? Of course, you then told us it was glandular fever but you probably wouldn’t have told us if it was anorexia would you?”

I sit there, stunned. I mean. As if I would diet my way off the course!

I mean – oh my God!

I wasn’t THAT unattractive!

Huff!

Oh god.

Oh god.

I appear to have THE FLU.

I know! My first proper illness since The Original Illness which er – hasn’t quite gone yet technically, if you consider how much I still sleep, and indeed how often I freak out.

Had head cold yesterday and was telling EVERYONE (mostly people who didn’t ask) how well my body was coping. Blocked nose? Check. Aches and pains? Check. Energy levels, fine. I even went to see a tutor. More on that later.

Woke up this morning and, well, then MindReader and I went back to bed, then we had pancakes, then I had a bath. Started to get ready to meet my friend in town – very cheerful, because it’s SATURDAY and MindReader wasn’t playing football and I was going to stroll through town in the sunshine and maybe buy something beautiful – and got DIZZY.

THAT dizziness.

Lay down ALL DAY. And I KNOW that plenty of people get ill and it’s normal and it passes but it’s very frightening. Anyway.

Reasons why this is not like chronic fatigue/coeliacs.

1. I have not eaten wheat*
2. It has not gone yet and chronic fatigue stuff normally gets considerably better by the evening.
3. I have a blocked up nose, dry eyes, and my legs feel shaky and achy.
4. I do not feel like I’m dragging my body around the house like I used to. It feels more like when i USED to get flu.
5. It doesn’t get worse the more I do.
6. A girl in my class had a ‘bad’ cold and the day later I got sick. I kind of want to ring her and see how bad it was? Did her legs feel like they were bending too far backwards? Did the glands behind her ears go up? Of course, I won’t.

Okay. Breathe. It is a normal illness Billygean. You MUST stop freaking out.

* well, I went to a wedding 7 days ago and have my suspicions about the gravy they used. But 7 days would be a long time after the event for my intestines to get upset. Right?

Watch this space.

At a conference at the weekend I was talking to a girl who is a coeliac, and described my friend who was laid low for a year with glandular fever and then found out she had coeliacs. I got the reply, ‘Was it Billygean?’.

Bizarre. Are you the most famous coeliac in the world? Or are there only like three in Britain and you all know each other??
Anyway, her name is Kylie, she knows the blog, and asked me to say hi.

So – hi Kylie! And also, there are lots of Coeliacs. So I guess I’m just famous!

We are at MindReader’s friend’s wedding. I am in my beautiful Venice dress.

“And how’s the new flat?” MindReader’sFriend’sMum says to me. I feel MindReader’s hand on my back and he smirks at me.

“Beautiful,” I say.

“Mm, because it’s yours,” she says, articulating more than my mother ever has in one sentence.

I shift in my chair to let another person past and onto the dance floor. The beat pumps painfully in my ear while the candles glow all around us.

“I hear he was absolutely amazing with your – illness,” she says, and I smile as, having got up at 9:30 and walked around til 2 in the morning, it is resolutely, past tense.

“He was,” I say. “He drove miles every night just to come and lie down with me!”

“It’ll be you next, then!” she says, gesturing to the bride and groom dancing.

My stomach tightens as I realise MindReader has heard. I try not to look like I’m waiting for his answer. Brown-eyed girl comes on.

“Nah,” he shrugs and my heart – I confess – sinks.

I stand up, the lights of the dance floor skimming across MindReader’s blond hair.

“Oh it will happen,” he says, catching the look on my face.

Before I know what I’m saying it’s out. “You must have some idea of a time scale,” I say.

“I don’t know,” he says. “Married within four years?”

I think for a moment. I’ll be 28. Old enough to have a pretty good guess at what I’ll want when I’m 45. Young enough to not have wrinkles on the photos. We’ll have been together 6 years. Long enough to know, and not just romantically, like those jolts I feel now when he strokes my ear when it is aching, but to know intellectually, too.

“You’re on,” I say.

I nudge the boy next to me. For the sake of argument we’ll call him PrettyBoy. And if you’re reading, MindReader, this is not so much a compliment but more than I think he spends too much time styling his hair.

“Can I borrow some paper?” I whisper. Suffice to say, week one is not getting off to the keenest start.

“God you’re so organised and you don’t bring paper?!” he says.

I blink. I am not organised. The folder is all pretense.

“So,” Mr Commerce says. “What is the first question you’d ask this client?”

There is silence. I stare at the desk.

“So the client’s been late paying for the goods and wants to defend the claim for breach…” Mr Commerce says, striding along the front of the classroom.

“Would you ask – have you been late before?” someone says.

PrettyBoy leans in to me. “I’ve had to ask that a few times,” he says, with a wink.

I blink. It takes me a few months. And then I realise what he means.

I mean – who says that?!

At the end of the class, Mr Commerce hands out green sheets to my side of the room. “This side will act for the buyer and that side the seller,” he says. “Make sure you sit in the same places as last time.”

Oh, God.

“It huuuuurts,” I say to MindReader, curled up on our sofa.

“I knowwww,” he says.

I have an ear infection, most likely caused by the divine earplugs. So: not only do I listen to the builders all morning once again due to lack of ear plugs, but I am also up all night taking pain killers. Oh joy.

MindReader reaches for the steroid ear drops and spoons behind me, slowly decanting them into my ear as I giggle because it tickles. He massages my swollen glands and blows into my very hot ear. He is nice isn’t he?

“Why isn’t it getting better?” I say. “It’s been the same for THREE DAYS.”

I roll over and look at MindReader. His mouth quivers slightly with suppressed laughter.

“Billygean,” he says, “since when did you regard yourself as someone who gets over illnesses quickly?”

He has a point.

“Of course, this clause is completely ineffectual anyway,” Mr Commerce says, and before you think my dialogue is a bit shoddy today, lawyers do actually talk like this, “because in a business to business contract time is always of the essence due to…?”

“A case,” some bright spark says.

I know the case, but am shy.

After a very long pause Mr Commerce stops pacing and says “Hartleys v Hymans.”

There is a shuffling as people note it down.

“That’s Hartleys as in the jam,” Mr Commerce says, “and hymans as in – er – never mind.”

“Hi,” says the lawyer next to me. “I’m Lawyer.”

“Billygean,” I say.

“How did you find February’s exams?” he says.

“Er, difficult,” I say, and then by way of explanation and despite having vowed not to talk about it, “I deferred a year and business law exams was basically my first day back.”

“Ouch,” he says. “What did you do in your gap year?”

I smirk. “Lay down mostly _ i wasn’t very well,” I say. “Still not really, some days,” I say, with a roll of the eyes.

“Bodies can’t be pushed,” he says. “They heal in their own time. Believe me.”

I tilt my head to the side. “I had glandular fever followed by Coeliacs disease,” I say.

“Acute pancreatitis two years ago, and then I had my gallbladder removed.”

“Pleased to meet you”.