The 23rd & 24th; I am always so grateful to be here.

December 25, 2017 — Leave a comment

The 23rd of December.

Merry Christmas Eve Eve!

I woke up just after six which was frustrating but what can you do? I just listened to the radio until the heating kicked in.

My day has been very monotonous, but enjoyable. I have sat in the glow of the tree lights, watching films on the tv, crocheting a shawl. This morning was The Boxtrolls (which Christine had not seen before), and Daddy left foot Wales to bring Taid here for Christmas. Mommy went to Grandma’s for their Christmas fayre, and was gone for most of the day.

Christine and I had our lunch (fucking hell, standing up just for the time it takes to make a sandwich was torturous – have to chase Dr. Blaney in January), then she went for a walk. When she returned, we watched Hidden Figures, which has not long finished.

I’m writing early because this evening I’m going to The Electric with Becky to sing along to the Muppets Christmas Carol, as is tradition. I’m very excited. It is the summer of the soul in December.

The 24th of December.

Merry Christmas Eve!

Everything is right. I had a proper sleep – actually woke up at a normal time so I have not needed extra coffee today.

It has been a very similar day to yesterday, for me. Sat in armchair, watched tv, crocheted. I did have a break early afternoon because I had to wrap Grandma’s final present (it only got bought after I’d done all my other wrapping) and that was the only time the table was available.

I just cherish every moment at home this time of year. After three Christmases in a row as an inpatient, and nearly being back in last year, I am always so grateful to be here. To wake up in my own bed, sit in front of the fire, be with people I love for the whole day, not just the hours allowed. I remember in 2007 all presents had to be sterile, and in 2008 I remember being woken for an ultrasound on my new liver, Becky and Alison arriving with a bag of satsumas for me to suck the juice from (I couldn’t digest the flesh) and feeling so sick at the smell of Mommy’s dinner, I had to send her to the bathroom to eat it. In 2009, I was itching like crazy from the shingles, and so breathless I couldn’t walk across my cubicle.

Those should not be Christmas memories. This is why I appreciate home.

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