The 22nd of October.
Inside my elbow hurts so much. I didn’t have the compression garment on yesterday because Mommy wasn’t in and I wasn’t going to teach Daddy how to put it on. So today it’s been back on again and oh god it is so tight. I just need to keep it on; I’ll get used to it again.
Similar day to yesterday. Good night. Mostly crochet, in my chair. Watched Sunday Brunch, did a blog post. Won’t be watching next week, not unless I’m desperately bored. Just nobody of interest on at all.
Crocheting something for a different project – can’t carry on with Heidi’s until the extra wool arrives. What I’ve worked on today might have to be done again, depending on the size of the next part I make. It’s a complicated equation involving different wools and hook sizes.
Last night we ate the ciabatta and focaccia. The brioche got baked today but sort of got accidentally cremated so they haven’t been so good. Have to try that again and watch the oven a bit more closely.
The 23rd of October.
Well, tomorrow is off. It’s so frustrating.
I spent my morning waiting for Michelle, Mr. Titley’s secretary, to phone me to tell me what exactly need to do tomorrow. I was going to give her until eleven, then ring her, but at 10.55 my phone rang. It was Stella, Dr. Richter, the immunologist’s, secretary. She was calling to offer me a cancellation appointment tomorrow afternoon, which I had to pass on because I didn’t expect to feel up to it. I then rang Michelle, and she told me that actually, they weren’t sure if tomorrow could go ahead, because I haven’t seen Dr. Richter yet. How fucking ironic. She said she needed to talk to Mr. Titley to know for sure, and she’d ring me back.
When she did, it was with bad news. No surgery. They booked me in with the hope that they’d know what was happening with my white cells by now. But we don’t. So she’s going to book me in for his next pre-screening clinic on the 22nd of November, when he comes back from holiday.
I rang Stella back in the vain hope she hadn’t found someone else for the appointment. Of course, she had, and then I got a bit upset and explained how nothing I need doing can move forward until I see Dr. Richter. She agreed to try and squeeze me in it she could, and I left it with her, not feeling hopeful. But sometimes I can be surprised. I think a slot has been made for me at the start of the clinic, because I’m booked in for 2pm. Small victories.