The 28th of February.
After a month of being well, I think I’m getting another cold. I had another really bad night, fighting with my brain, incapable of sleep until something like two o’clock.
Naturally, this means I have felt utterly dreadful all day. I was thinking I’d go to the gym today but the lack of sleep put that idea in the bin, so after spending the morning in my pyjamas, I went back upstairs and lay on my bed for an hour, trying to nap but really just listening to Radio 4. I got very informed about Trident. I got dressed when my tummy started growling, and put in my woollen joggers and cashmere socks so I felt hugged by my attire.
After some scrambled eggs on toast, I sat in front of the tv all afternoon inhaling Olbas Oil and praying to some invisible deity that I feel better in the morning. This is not fair, I deserve longer in a state of relative health. I’ve got shit to do.
The 29th of February.
Well we’ve just had a very stressful time on the phone with Christine panicking about a false widow spider in her bedroom. I couldn’t hear her end of the conversation so was having it relayed to me by Mommy, along with some whimpering. It was on a wall, so vertical, not horizontal, and catching it under a glass with some cardboard was going to be problematic. After a very brief discussion, it was decided that the only option was to smush it under a shoe. Now it’s dead.
Back to this morning. I did have sleep last night, but still wasn’t thrilled when my alarm went off at half seven. The imaging department was the busiest I’ve ever seen it this morning, lots of people with broken limbs! I wasn’t waiting long before I was called, and a very pleasant lady helped me fashion a gown into a sort of boob tube so the doctor could scan my neck and upper arms. The right side was clear, but on the left side (where the fluid is), the vein in my neck is blocked. The doctor was like “You probably already knew that” but er no that has not been mentioned before. Dr. Gill actually rang shortly after we’d left and said she’d looked at the images and discussed then with her colleague, Will Lester, the thrombosis man. She’s not eager to put me back on clexane (and I concur) and it isn’t getting worse so we’re going to leave it for now, but if I have problems then we’ll have to contact Andrew Willis again. I imagine he’ll be just delighted.