We say purple monkey dishwasher

I remember my mother saying to me when I was about 15, "Everytime you go out with your friends, even it was for two hours, you come home exhausted. What's the matter with you?"

I think I shrugged, trudged upstairs to my room to reappear later, bright and refreshed after having had a nap. My energy levels could always be restored by sleep and more sleep. With the lifestyle and the work ethic I have been nurturing these past two years, it is quite common for folks to say, "Oh, you look tired, Liv."

I always laugh and reply, "I always look tired! Nah, I just need more sleep." I remember saying to P, oh so very long ago when he asked what I did in my free time, "When I do get it? Slleeeeeeepppppp." It is not unusual for me to be found drooping like a noodle against P, muttering incoherently at people. But ten hours or twelve hours of sleep later, I wake up ready to tackle another busy week.

During those tired moments, P has always been my strong pillar to lean against, and his hand has always been there to lead me when I think I cannot possibly keep my eyes open long enough to check that I'm not walking into a pole or into a gaping hole. In the past month or so though, the tables have turned.

My energy levels are rather like those bunnies in the Energizer Bunny ads from years ago. I'll go and go and go and then all the sudden, I'll deflate like a pricked balloon, but pop in a new set of Energizer batteries and I'm ready for action again. P, on the other hand, was like a creek. His energy levels were strong, steady and consistent. He would be one that would be awake, watching tv, while I take a quick catnap on his couch. I could physically feel his energy emanating from him and surrounding me, supporting me when I was tired. I love his strength.

But of late, his strength is subdued, and with this, he has become unsettled and withdrawn. We talked about it and I thought it could be fixed with more sleep because that has been my experience. So I pushed at him to have early nights. He thought it'll help if he took a serious look at his diet, so he gave up sugar. I thought our galivanting might be a cause, so we took to staying in more often. That didn't stop the tired-ness. He had a blood test and that didn't reveal anything significant. I thought everything was manageable and he would get better .. he just needed more sleep, etc. He went home last weekend as he usually does, only this time, he stayed till Tuesday for a funeral, rather than coming back to Melbourne on the Monday morning. I fully expected him back on Wednesday, if not Tuesday night.

On Wednesday, he rang me while I was at work. "You're still in ----!" I had pouted. A minute later, he said he was considering sick leave from uni. Fifteen minutes later, I was fighting back worried tears, as I walked back from outside where I had taken the call in relative privacy. I was beginning to have an inkling of what P was feeling from his body.

I was never so glad as when I finally saw him on Thursday, thinking naively it will be alright. P had said he's tiring very quickly but I didn't realise how quickly. I saw first hand how quickly he faded that night, and all this in the space of five days. We helped a friend celebrate another friend's birthday and I watched worriedly as he faltered more and more as the night wore on, until he was very nearly leaning on me with shuttered eyes, his lovely curls drooping to very nearly to my level (I barely come up to his shoulder) and weaving as he walked. He has never leant on me, it has always been the other way around. P, my gentle giant, fatigued beyond comprehension. It troubled me.

But my heart did not hurt until today, when I watched him settle tiredly against his couch after a gorgeous day with friends, one that before all this he would have enjoyed immensely, seeing his bruised eyes, and hear him say softly, "This has been the best three days for a long time ... but I've been too tired to enjoy it ... I'm mighty .... mighty glad you're here, Liv."

It hurts to see my Peter this way. I would do anything to take away his fatigue and have him the way he was. But to fix it, we would need to understand the problem - but we don't. We don't.