The 30th of December.
I would very much like to sleep again now. Three nights have passed of me just constantly coughing with very little respite. This morning, the oxygen ran out so I was stuck for a good five hours until another one could be delivered.
Coughing makes everything so much harder, and my puffiness hasn’t really changed ; my arms are like sausages and I can barely see over my pudgy cheeks.
I didn’t even contemplate getting out of bed until the oxygen arrived just after one, and since then I’ve just been tired and felt extraordinarily shitty.
We’re going into clinic tomorrow. I would just like to know what is causing what!
The 31st of December.
Well, it just wouldn’t be the Cartwright family festive period without me being in hospital. So I’m writing my New Year’s Eve entry from the TCT unit at the QE, feeling horrendous and having flashbacks to 2008/9 New Year in ward 8 post liver transplant. I think we went to sleep at about ten because we just didn’t care. This year my measly celebration has been a slice of Christmas cake.
I didn’t really sleep again, but we were going to clinic anyway to see Ram. He looked at me and said “Well you look awful” so it’s good to know that the outside conveys how the inside is feeling. He said “We can’t send you home like this”. (Picture me, not speaking, no make up, doubled over, occasionally making weird hacking noises – it’s not good.)
So here I am in YPU on New Year’s Eve, being talked to through masks because of my potential flu.
This year has been a tricky one. I need to look over it properly to really write a proper review. Right now, my overwhelming idea of 2014 is trying to come off steroids.
Happy New Year, everybody. Be kind to each other, but more importantly, be kind to yourselves.