Blogs, eggs and dishwashers

This week has been ME Awareness week and although 1200 words for International ME Awareness day, yesterday, did seem justified, I will try to leave you with more readable chunks! (especially as I realise some of you may be reading this from a very small hand-held device!)
You may be thinking "what is someone with ME doing, writing a blog anyway? Surely she is occupied being ill!" I know where you are coming from and until I had a tablet computer and was able to sit, propped up in bed, surfing the net for an hour or so occasionally I thought the same. Snuggled in bed with hot water bottles and a thick winter duvet it is totally possible and my arms get a work out from a bit of typing. As much as I would love to, I do not write each piece in one go. I am thinking about it first during the day, later I type for about twenty minutes, it is fiddled and redrafted another time and uploaded another.
By finding a focus like this, something to occupy my mind other than the symptoms or frustrations of having this illness, I feel better able to float on through the difficulties and find triumphs and achievements.
So to the eggs and dishwashers: I have been writing like this since January and here is one of those pieces...

I cooked my own scrambled egg today- standing in front of the hob and stirring as I went, good achievement. To stand for 8 minutes without feeling dizzy or nauseous is quite a revelation. 3 minutes used to be too much, so did 30 seconds, just standing 4 months ago would have me falling over. Moving around the kitchen is getting easier too, with things in different cupboards (obviously!) opening one, turning round, walking across the kitchen, opening another, turning round, walking across the kitchen, stirring an egg, switching on a toaster, becomes like a merry-go-round; a pirouette without a focus point. I had abandoned all hope of ever doing anything helpful in the kitchen ever again and sat down on the chair for 2 minutes in between toaster, cupboard, sink etc. This is no longer necessary so often. It's still not great as I actually get out of breath when moving around the kitchen and still become dizzy sometimes, but just not as often. I look forward to regularly emptying the dishwasher. This used to be my Dad's job. When I was a child I would wake up most days and hear him downstairs emptying the dishwasher as his early morning chore. But to him it wasn't a chore, more a pleasure; a routine of regular movement; a symphony of clattering plates and cutlery. I want to be conducting that symphony every morning and start my day with a clatter!