Nervous tissue

Not, as you may have been hoping, about a piece of worried supersoft three-ply. Instead, about nervous tissue in my body.

Every day, I get a bit sicky and tired feeling in the morning. I look at the clock, and within a few minutes either way, it'll be eleven o'clock. You could set your watch by it, if you don't mind your watch being maybe ten minutes out either way. And having to contact me at about eleven o'clock in the morning whenever you want your watch setting.

It's a blood sugar thing. Breakfast has gone down, blood sugar has dropped, tiredy sicky feeling is how it manifests itself. That 's interesting in itself, really. Let's get this straight - my body communicates to brain that blood sugar has dropped. Hidden part of brain communicates to conscious part of brain that it feels sick and tired. Conscious part of brain rationalises this and dunks a couple of ginger nuts into another coffee with a sugar in, and in a minute or two all is fine again. If you were doing a time and motion study, I'm sure you would reckon there are too many links in this communication chain, but it works pretty well, no? I'm aware that there are all sorts of complex issues that I'm skirting to do with insulin and whathaveyou, but the basic system is the same.

Earlier every morning, at a somewhat more unpredictable time, I get a rush of mental energy. I can solve previously insoluble problems, I am inspired in an artistic designery way, I am enthused with optomism for all the things I am going to get done during the day ahead. Frustratingly, it only lasts a few minutes because after that time I need to go and have a dump. Sorry if that's a little graphic, but there you are. The few minutes before I get the ten-minute warning that I need to go for a shit are the most productive of the day. I can frequently be seen frantically drawing while hopping about, cheeks clenched, trying to finish tricky bits before I go to the loo. Trouble is, when I'm finished, the energy and enthusiasm are completely gone. I've forgotten the solutions, the jobs I was looking forward to seem like chores, inspiration disappears. It doesn't matter if I've been two minutes or read half a novel, the effect is the same.

A medical doctor friend of mine said that there is as much nervous tissue associated with your abdominal tract as there is in your brain. (Mind you, he also thinks that the anus is astonishingly clever and underrated because it's just a little hoop of muscle and yet it can tell the difference between liquid and solid. Hah. Not always, it fucking can't). So perhaps we should be treating our abdominal nervous tissue a little more kindly; giving it a better press, maybe. We do all sorts of things for our cranial brain tissue, why not the rest of it? Does omega-3 fish oil work for all your other neural connections, perhaps make your gut more efficient? Or your spinal cord? More importantly, how do I get the inspired-by-my-gut feeling to last?*

I was musing thus, and indeed had written most of the above in draft, when I came across this debate, at Greavsie's blog. I'd never heard of Berocca, but it sounds just what I need. I've already nearly fallen asleep in my chair this morning (not because I'm tired, just bored with what I was doing - which indeed is why I am doing this at the moment). Long-term readers will be aware that I'm a bit of a winter loony, and have problems motivating myself in the long dark days. SAD, perhaps. The doctor said maybe, but try getting more exercise in the daytime before we go down that route. Thanks for that.

So, Berocca it is. I know it's not an anti-depressant, but I'm sure if I can boost my energy with something other than caffeine I won't feel so unmotivated. It's the huge effort that I have to make some days just to get the necessary, bill-paying stuff done that makes me down, I reckon. If I had more energy I'd get more done and wouldn't feel down about it. It's a theory, anyway.

If I ever get my finger out and get the work I'm supposed to be doing as we speak finished, I'll have to go into town later to the repro shop. I can go to Boots at the same time. Or Holland and Barrett, perhaps. Maybe I can feed all of my nervous tissue with it, you never know.

I shall harness the power of my poo-brain. Yellow piss seems a small price to pay.

*anyone suggesting shoving things up my arse, or trying to hold onto a shit all day, will have their chat banned, or something.