The 16th of August.
This must be what real grief feels like. I know I’ve known countless fellow patients who’ve died, but this is my first really close family member death (yes he was a member of my family). I was too young to really appreciate Grandpa, and I didn’t really know Nain. Oscar has been my constant companion and little kitty friend for as long as I can remember, and it just feels wrong without him.
We went to pick up Becky and James from the airport and they told us all about Barcelona. They came in for a cup of tea, but I was dreadful company because I just don’t want to communicate with anyone.
The excess fluid is also causing me extra breathing problems, combined with the utter depletion of my muscle mass from the steroids, and total lack of sleep, I’m feeling almost as weak as I did just after my liver transplant.
I’m absolutely petrified of it getting worse. Waiting to see how much worse the next day will be.
The 17th of August.
Today has been better. I had a pretty good sleep, and I spent my morning in my pyjamas, waiting for an ASOS delivery of leggings, long vests and men’s cardigans because my body is such a ridiculous shape at the moment.
Mommy helped me try them all on, some stuff will go back which is always good for one’s bank balance. Then she washed my hair, and this afternoon I watched the finale of Utopia.
I’ve also been trawling through my hard disks, trying to find a nice picture of Oscar to get framed, and doing some really boring phone sync things.
I have a theory that my burpiness is connected to my bleeding, as excessive bloating/wind can be linked to oestrogen and cortisol levels, both of which I take and I’m bleeding when I’m not supposed to which seems to coincide with the burping.
So we’ll put that forward as a theory at the menopause clinic in September.
There are patches of natural skin colour on my face!