The 3rd of November.
I am no longer coping with this cough. It kept me awake for half the night – I’ve been through the before, I just have to sit up and keep sipping at water until my throat calms down enough for me to lie back down and try to sleep.
This morning I did a blog post and finished marking up all the recipes in Mommy’s food magazines from the past couple of months that I was to eat. They’d built up a small pile and the Christmas ones were very exciting.
This afternoon, I was been watching Dexter with sleepy kittens. During one episode, a character said she remembered how it felt like get life was just starting. I’m not sure I have that same memory. I think that’s the sort of feeling you have at eighteen, when you leave school, go out into the world. I turned eighteen in a hospital cubicle, unable to eat the cake or drink the champagne because my stomach still couldn’t digest anything after the GvHD destroyed the lining of it. I sometimes feel like my life was over before it got started. Of all the people who have stem cell transplants and are absolutely fine, mine fucks me up beyond repair..
The 4th of November.
Oh, I feel like shit. I’ve got Death Cab tomorrow night and I would like to not feel terrible. I thought I’d slept reasonably well but that was not reflected in how I felt.
I have done basically nothing all day; all morning I felt weirdly lightheaded but my blood pressure was okay. At lunchtime I had a boiled egg and soldiers, my go-to meal when I’m poorly, and the lightheadedness dissipated. It’s unusual that I just needed more food, because I had the same breakfast I always do, so I don’t understand what’s happened.
This afternoon has been Netflix and kittens. Sleepy kitten hugs do make me feel slightly better. I would just like a good sleep – maybe I will have Zopiclone again tonight. We’ve also got a trip to Wales this weekend so that’s going to be delightful if I still feel this way, let alone if I feel worse.