The 30th of December.
Is today worse than New Year’s Eve? I think so. The tv is definitely very poor – I had no interest in any of the films on today. I have set Carrie to record tonight but that is not for festive viewing.
This morning I wrote up a blog post, then watched Raymond Blanc dick around on Saturday Kitchen while crocheting the never ending shawl.
After lunch, I had a hairwash, then sat and watched three episodes of Black Mirror while the kittens ran around the room for the first time. First up was Crocodile – thought it was good, interesting premise, to see how far Mia will go, nice twist. Next, USS Callister – I really liked this one. The contrast between the 70’s Space Fleet and the hypermodern present in which the characters and game exist was great, and there was just the right balance of psychopathy and emotion. Really smart. Last I saw Hang the DJ – this seems to be the one most discussed in promo so I was a little bit wary but it lived up to the hype. I loved Georgina Campbell in this role, a much more likable character than the ones she played in Broadchurch and One of Us. I just really liked the concept and the ending. Good work, Brooker. I’m saving Arkangel and Black Museum until last because I think they’ll be the best. We’ll see.
The 31st of December.
2017 has been a weird year. Physically, I spent the first half of the year feeling like shit with pneumonia and constantly coughing. The second half was spent waiting for appointments, trying to figure out why my arm is still the same, desperate for pain relief for my back, and discovering that the diminished lung function I’d been experiencing since the pneumothorax is permanent.
Emotionally, it’s been pretty miserable. Feeling like an invalid for six months was incredibly depressing – it had been a long time since I’d felt so weak, like I was going to die every time I did something simple. Needing oxygen purely to exist felt humiliating. Then as I started to improve, Dean was going downhill, and we lost him. I haven’t been hit so hard by a death for years. We made no progress on my arm for the entire year, and everyone is still baffled. My back continues to decline, to the point where now I can barely stand. And my lungs are a disaster, so much so that an anaesthetist won’t put me under for even a short procedure.
There were some high points. Taking Mommy to The Ritz, Machynlleth, John and Maddie’s wedding, the Anthony Nolan summer reception, Regina Spektor, my ten year diagnosis anniversary, Amusical, meeting Peter and Sophie’s twins, Christmas at home.
Those were all lovely, but my memories are marred by my body’s myriad of problems. It’s really hard to enjoy things when everything is a trial.
I just want 2018 to be bearable. I’m not hoping for miracles, I just don’t want to feel wretched all the time. I’d like to definitively know what is wrong with my arm and whether we can fix it. I want to be able to move around my house without such immense difficulty, so one of my resolutions is to start exercising again. Nothing vastly energetic, but I know I can build up some muscle mass to at least make things slightly easier. I want to read at least two books a month – I am just accumulating them and they continue to mount up without me making any sort of dent in the pile. I am going to crochet an item of clothing I can wear that is not a hat, scarf or pair of mittens. And I am going to take more photos with people at happy times. I have no photos of me and Dean and it devastates me.
I ended the year the way I always do, or at least the way I always want to – champagne and Christmas cake with my family, in front of the fire. Grateful to be here.