The 28th & 1st; Every day my breathing doesn't improve, I worry a bit more.

The 28th of February.  Just to add insult to injury, my period has returned. I only just stopped taking Provera! It is not supposed to work like this! Going to have to see Dr. Robinson and get her to give me the coil, provided I can get the haem team to decide what they're going to do about clexane. 

I've felt really kind of pathetic all day - cold, no appetite, no interest in being productive. I finally read the paper this afternoon after Mommy washed my hair. I at least look vaguely human today. 

My hands are almost back to normal. Still got squidgy arms, but I am getting there. I'm just grateful it's worked! See how long it lasts. 

This evening Christine is making a dinner involving pheasant breasts because I am too rubbish to venture out to a restauran. Every day my breathing doesn't improve, I worry a bit more. 

The 1st of March.

I am nearly back to my proper size I think! The size 16 pyjama top I've been sporting for the past few nights is now loose which is nice - I enjoy having all my limbs be in proportion.

The fluclox is certainly affecting my digestive system - my tummy is just very unenthusiastic about any food at all. Grandma came for Sunday lunch and I was really not thrilled at the prospect of roast beef at one o'clock. Only one more day, thankfully. 

I have just felt generally grotty, so watched the rugby and crocheted. I've been productive, but quiet. 

Last night I started having a panic about what I'd do if Mommy ever gets ill and can't look after me. I hope I never have to deal with the reality because it would just be the end of everything. It's thoughts like this that make me think it would be better if I died sooner rather than later. Which is very selfish on my part.