The 21st of February.
Difficult again. Reasonable sleep. Anne-Marie came this morning to flush my line, but the prescription that’s been sent is wrong, so she rang the QE and got them to send over a new one, but she’d have to come back this afternoon after picking it up. While she was here, she took the stitch out of my neck which was really fucking uncomfortable. It was really tightly knotted and some blood had dried around it so it was stuck to me. So that was fun.
This afternoon I’ve just been really depressed. It’s really hard. I’ve put on another pound even though I watched what I ate all week, it doesn’t seem to have mattered. I feel like it’s all just pointless. Anne-Marie came back to do the line flush at one point, once she had the right prescription.
I just want to go to bed and cry. For a week.
The 22nd of February.
My knee is worse today than yesterday. If it doesn’t improve by Thursday, I’m going to force them to get a bone doctor, or a portable ultrasound machine. It’s completely nonsensical.
So this morning I hobbled around, them immobilised myself in the armchair with my leg up on a stool. I remained there for the rest of the day, except for the parts when I made lunch and things. When I move, I make noises like HUARGHHH. I am essentially ninety years old.
This afternoon I planned on reading The Humans and having a lovely time, but I ended up playing games on Ada and being incredibly unintellectual. (It wasn’t even Sudoku or something challenging.)
I feel less depressed today. So that’s a good thing.