Archives For Suzi Ruffell

The 11th of May.

I think I have caught up with all my sleep now. I’ll be out a bit late tonight seeing Suzi and Angela Barnes at the Glee, but it won’t be anything as late as Sunday.

This morning, Mommy had had to go out before I got downstairs, so I had to endure the pain of making my own breakfast. That sounds trivial, but my point is that my back is so bad, it’s agony to stand up for even a few minutes. Fucking discs. Thankfully, she got back in time to help with coffee.

I also had a very productive phone call with EE. Daddy had shown me some deals that Virgin have on SIM-only phones, and when comparing to mine, I realised I was on quite a shit plan. I was paying £20.99 a month for what Virgin charge £9 for. So I called them up and said I wanted a better deal, and now I’m getting 4gb of data (which is enough for me), unlimited texts and calls for £9! Very pleased with myself.

After lunch, I went to the gym. It’s a good ten days since I last went, so I’m expecting to hurt tomorrow. My arms were certainly protesting after less time than usual, so I’m not looking forward to the pain. I had to stop a bit earlier than I might have, because the after-school youths arrived and their body spray was overwhelming.

The 12th of May.

Ugh, my left eye is being irritating and I am supposed to be going out later which will require mascara so I really hope it calms down in the next hour or so. I probably could have done with a bit more sleep but I didn’t get to bed until about midnight and nine hours is not enough for me. My body is rubbish; it requires a lot of rest.

Today has been uneventful. This morning, I pootled about in my pyjamas, drank my coffee and received some wool in the past that I’m going to use for my next jumper.

And after lunch, that is what I started on. A few more episodes of Scandal, and the first eight rounds of said jumper. I’ve only got two more episodes of season 6 left, but Christine is here and she’s a few episodes behind me, so it wouldn’t be very fair of me to ruin the ending for her.

Anyway, I’ve got to eat dinner and get changed before we go out and write a card. But I am so tired.

 

The 12th of February.

Where to begin? I have been reluctant to start this because I feel like it might dilute the memory or I’ll forget stuff.

The journey down was nice and straightforward. The chap was even there with the ramp when we arrived at Euston! We got a taxi to Jen’s in Highgate, where I was going to try on fun clothes in order to find an outfit for the show. I was shown into a little room, one wall full of clothes, one full of shoes, plus a rack of dresses, the floor covered in more shoes and bags and jewellery behind me. First I picked some favourites to try one, because I had to be selective. I looked at four or five in the end, but eventually decided that the first one I’d worn was the best. A navy blue midi dress from Libelula covered in sequins with pink piping, plus some Nadia Vodianova shoes and massive clip on earrings and a two-finger ring. I left with a promise to leave it at the hotel reception in the morning.

We had lunch at the nearby Cafe Rouge (saw so many good dogs), then another taxi to the hotel. When checking in, we each were given a fresh warm cookie, which I ate on my bed very messily. Unpacked, then collected what we needed for the show. Next stop, Union Chapel!

When we arrived, we rang a buzzer and were met by Bea, who works the evening shows. She showed us the backstage/dressing rooms, the facilities, and of course the chapel itself. They had built me a massive ramp to get onto the stage, and I met the sound guys so handed over my old iPhone, plus the cable and power pack.

There was no point going back to the hotel, so I sent Mommy and Daddy to get coffee, then it wasn’t long before the Anthony Nolan team and Christine arrived (separately). I finally met Lucy, then she and her colleagues set up all their tables and banners, and I got changed into my spangly dress. I had a practise run up the ramp, then got talking to lot of Anthony Nolan volunteers, remembering some from previous events. Then the doors opened and it was time to meet my public! For a while, I just watched strangers coming in which was brilliant because they weren’t obliged to come, they were just supporting the cause. Then I started seeing people I knew, like Emmer, Charlie, Denise, Amy, Joy, Lauren and Hannah. Mark and Shereen came over and I gave him a huge hug. I’m so glad he could come. Acaster arrived, then Suzi and Flick, and I went backstage with them. Soon Nish appeared, and before long, it was time to start the show! First up, aside from our lovely host, we had James, during whom Sara arrived, and then Felicity. Nish then introduced me, and I drove up (nearly off) the ramp onto the stage, giving a royal wave. The cheer was immense, and I had to tell them to stop because I was going to cry. I said most of what I’d planned, plus I gave Mark a shout out because he deserves to know what a hero he is. In hindsight, there are things I wish I’d said, but no matter. Everyone said I did really well, and I was happy.

In the interval, I gave Josh the bear for his baby, and met the Anthony Nolan patients who’d come backstage and lots of photos were taken. Josh opened the second half, followed by Suzi and Sara. Everyone was brilliant, it went better than I could have hoped. I said goodbye to the people who had waited at the end, and Nish, Sara and Suzi.

So many hugs. And it was all over. I put my socks and boots back on, and we made our way back to the hotel. Pyjamas, Graham Norton, wind down, bed.

The 13th of February.

I didn’t fall asleep until about three, and woke up at seven. Made myself a cup of tea, and got everything packed back up. I left the garment bag for Jen at reception, then we had coffee next door at Saint Espresso. Breakfast was required, and as it was pancake day, we went to The Diner nearby. We went past The Breakfast Club and its huge queue, but found The Diner nice and quiet, where I had buttermilk pancakes with bacon, maple syrup and whipped honey butter. So good, but I couldn’t finish them.

A last cab back to Euston, where I got another coffee, and we trundled home. This afternoon, I have put all my warm clothes on, curled up in my armchair. So happy.

 

Today is World Cancer Day. This time ten years ago, I was feeling pretty pleased with myself. I’d been diagnosed with leukaemia the summer before, and had made it through three rounds of chemotherapy and a stem cell transplant relatively easily. I had very few of the horrific side effects, and thought I’d got away with it. I didn’t know that in fact, my cancer story was just beginning.

I’ve told my tale enough times for it to seem superfluous now. Leukaemia, stem cell transplant, relapse, stem cell transplant, graft vs. host disease, liver failure, liver and accidental stem cell transplant, photopheresis, biliary reconstruction, sepsis, pulmonary embolism, collapsed lung, pneumonia. And that’s just the bare bones of it.

Anthony Nolan found my second stem cell donor. Without them and him, my transplant would not have gone the same way, my body would not have reacted in the same way, and my liver and third stem cell transplants would not have happened. I would almost certainly not be here. Not only did they find me a donor, but they have been a continued source of support after my transplants.

In 2016, their Patient Services Team offered me the opportunity to become a Young Ambassador for them, a role in which I am able to use my experience to benefit other people who will receive transplants in the future. My goal is for nobody receiving a stem cell transplant to have to go through what I have, because although I am still here, it has by no means been easy. I have survived, but at times it has felt like that is all, and to really live is something just out of reach. We all deserve the chance to live.

I am not ashamed to say that sometimes it is very difficult. It is no secret that people with chronic illnesses can struggle with depression, and prior to working with Anthony Nolan, I was beginning to feel like despite doing my best to raise awareness, I was not having much impact, and I could not see a purpose for the life I had. I did not feel the world would notice if I stopped. But now I do. Maybe not the entire world, I am not quite so egotistical to think that, but since I started working with Anthony Nolan, I feel like I have been able to make more of a difference, most of all when I have been with them to parliament to speak to people who can really force change for the way stem cell transplant patients are treated in this country. So not only did Anthony Nolan give me a chance at life, but they gave me a reason to live.

A lot has changed in the past decade. When this all started, I was a teenager, completely self-involved yet oblivious to the fact that I was harbouring a fatal disease. Now, I’m still self-involved, but more out of necessity than narcissism, and only too aware of every horror occurring in the wider world. I would say that is partly down to the technological leaps made in the last ten years (for example, I had a flip phone back then), but also due to my personal growth. I’d say it’s almost impossible to confront your own mortality and not be changed by it.

Most immediately, I learned to appreciate my family. Nothing says I love you like a mother who will get up to turn you over in the night when you’ve lost all your muscle mass, a sister who will donate her own stem cells to try to save your life, and a father who continues to work to support a household alone and spend every minute he can with you too.

I’ve also learned a lot about grief. When you become a cancer patient, you become intimately acquainted with it. I have been to more funerals of friends than I can count, and that is something usually said by people sixty years my senior. It doesn’t get easier. It never hurts any less. Even when you know it is coming, you can try to prepare yourself, but you are never ready. Last year I lost a friend I truly loved and the world is a darker place without him, but I am trying to use each day to make him proud and I am so grateful to have known him, even though grief is the price I pay for the privilege.

And I am have grieved for myself. This is not the life I planned, expected, or hoped for. I have lost people I never got to know – the partner I might have loved, the children we could have had. It was a choice I had to make: lose them, or be lost. I wasn’t ready to leave, so I chose the sacrifice.

For all of it, I think I am lucky. I am loved and have people to love; I have enough bodily function to get by, and to enjoy the things in life I like; I know what is important, and who will be with me until the end of the line. For the most part, I am comfortable, and I am happy. It is not our circumstances that make us what we are, but our choices. I choose to celebrate the life that I have, rather than mourn for what I do not. In a week’s time, I am hosting a night of comedy called Still Standing at Union Chapel with my incredible friends Nish Kumar, Suzi Ruffell, Josh Widdicombe and Sara Pascoe in order to raise money for Anthony Nolan and remember how wonderful life can be. Tickets are available from the Union Chapel website here.

 

The 7th of December.

FINALLY I can announce the secret exciting event I’ve been working on for months: I am hosting a comedy show at Union Chapel on 12th February next year to celebrate being alive ten years after my diagnosis with Nish, Suzi, Josh, Sara and hopefully we can rope in a couple more to round off the bill. It’s called Still Standing and you can get tickets here.

This morning, I got a blog post done, then made a call to Chapel to find out when the tickets would go on sale. I had to pay the deposit first, so I got them to send over the invoice so I could get the thing on sale!

Once I had paid, I had to just sit and wait for the link to appear online, so I did Christmas crochet while periodically checking the Union Chapel website/my email. It appeared about half three, so since then I have been generally all over the social media, promoting the shit out of it. I will continue to do so until I have sold all the tickets, and there are a lot!

I am beyond excited. I just really hope it’s a success!

The 8th of December.

I had forgotten it was supposed to snow, so the white blanket covering my garden this morning was a lovely surprise. I would have liked to have put on my knitted Christmas trousers to keep cosy, but I know the kittens would tear them to shreds and I can’t have that, so it was fleecy velvet leggings instead.

My main objective today has been to finish my Christmas shopping. I had only three more items to get, but it’s taken me all day to decide on them. Admittedly I did stop for lunch and to wash my hair, and that took a while because my lip balm rolled under the bed. I spent a good ten minutes swiping a hanger around to try to retrieve it, but to no avail. It’s a good thing I had three spares in my drawer.

I also took a shopping break to work on Mommy’s present because she and Daddy went to get a Christmas tree and logs for the fire, although she did walk in while I was squirrelling it away. Hopefully she didn’t see what it is.

Now I just have to decide on a wrapping theme!

The 18th of November.

Today has not gone at all how I expected. Up at half past five, at the Women’s by half seven. Mommy came up to the ward with me (mainly because I couldn’t carry my overnight bag on the chair), then left me with a couple on my right and one in the far corner. The nurse (whose name I can’t remember) came to clerk me in, and was amazed by my history (as are most people). She was grateful for my drugs list, gave me a red wristband (allergies), then the healthcare assistant, Mercy, came to do my obs and bring me my anti-DVT stockings. While getting changed, I took a sneaky sip of water to help my dry mouth, then I sat and listened to the corner couple having a hushed, Jeremy Kyle-style domestic. She was really stressed about whatever she was having done, and he was telling her to “Just deal with it like everybody else in here.”, which was not very helpful. They both wanted each other to fuck off, but she also wanted him to be able to stay because she’d freak out if left alone. I gleaned that she wants a hysterectomy but nobody will do that because she’s only 23. Poor girl.

Miss Byrom and Gerwyn the anaesthetist came to see us all individually. She just ran through with me again what she was going to do – remove/separate the adhesions, attempt to do a smear, and take biopsies if deemed necessary. Gerwyn was very nice (as are all the anaesthetists I’ve met) and he was glad to have my latest lung function results. He mentioned that he wouldn’t be intubating me (for a short sleep I’d bloody well hope not), just putting down a smaller breathing tube. That was fine.

I was second on the list, so while I waited to be taken down, I decided to use the time productively and do a blog post. While I was writing, the girl in the corner came to the conclusion that she didn’t want to stay, but before she came back, the porter came and he and Mercy took me down to theatre.

I moved over to the theatre gurney, and was wheeled into the anaesthetic room. I met some new people, confirmed my identity and what I was having done, then Gerwyn had to find somewhere to cannulate me. The first vein didn’t want to co-operate, then the one on the other hand was only too happy to squirt blood everywhere. Still, it was in, then he gave me some morphine to relax me, put the mask over my face emitting gas that smelled of vanilla, and off to sleep I went.

I awoke maybe 45 minutes later, conscious that some time had passed but not long. No dreams. I was acutely aware that things were inside me and that I needed the toilet. I was told that in theatre they had put a catheter and a pack in, which would be pressing on my rectum which was why I felt like I needed to poo. The nurse in recovery was pleased with how awake I was and that I was drinking and talking, so she called the ward and the other nurse looking after me (Rachel) came down. I asked her if the lady in the corner had stayed and it turned out she had. Change of heart. The boyfriend had had to leave though because them’s the rules. She checked the inco-pad underneath me and we found that the catheter had come undone, so she screwed it back together and changed the pad so I had a clean bed.

Back on the ward, they said I would have to stay for at least six hours, until half past four, when they could take the pack out, then the catheter, and I’d have to pee without it. This was not great news but fine, I could deal with it, I just had to adjust my position regularly. It was really, very uncomfortable, and the need to poo did not abate at all. I was brought some tea and toast which at least made my tummy stop rumbling. I texted Mommy and Christine to let them know how I was, and finished off the blog post. Visiting started at 2, so I asked Mommy if she’s come then with some coffee and lunch. To pass the time, I worked on my Christmas scarf and tried to ignore my discomfort.

When she arrived, I explained in more detail what had happened this morning and told her about the whispered argument in the corner (which seemed to have been forgotten when he returned). I drank my peppermint mocha and ate my panini, all the while wriggling around. I tweeted and crocheted, and we kept hearing the nurse ring a particular doctor about him coming to see the lady in the other corner, then she could leave. She waited for him for four hours, and in the end, he didn’t even show up, just gave some instructions on what she needed to do. I would have been fuming.

By ten past four, I was counting down the minutes until we could take the pack out. I was the only one left in the bay by this point, so I could be plenty vocal about my need to have to removed. Thankfully, at half four on the dot, Rachel was all ready to do it. The curtains got pulled round, I pulled the sheet down and spread my legs. She put a sick bowl down for the pack to go in, and started pulling out the gauze. I have never, ever experienced anything like it. There was so much pain as it ripped away from the skin inside my vagina, and seemed to go on forever, like when a magician pulls a string of flags from his sleeve. In a way it did seem like magic because I have no idea how they fit so much in there. At one point, we got to a knot where it emerged that there were two packs tied together and we were only halfway through! I was in absolute agony but I told her to keep going because I just needed it to be over. When she’d finished, the blood-soaked gauze filled the sick bowl and I didn’t even feel any of the relief that I’d expected, just sheer trauma. Thank fuck I never have to give birth because that was one of the worst things I have ever been through.

I was still bleeding a lot, so we didn’t take out the catheter in case they had to put another pack in. I really did not want this to happen and I willed my body to stop. Thankfully, it did slow down, and by the time Miss Byrom came round, it was at a much more acceptable rate. She had prescribed some topical estrogen cream and explained how to use it, and gave me a slightly more graphic description of what had happened in theatre. Basically, there was only a tiny amount of vagina that was open, maybe a centimetre, and she really just had to stick her finger through and rip me apart. Brutal, but the only way. Also, they couldn’t see any hint of my cervix or the coil, but they’re definitely in there. Just don’t know how we’ll get them out when it comes to that. Still, she was happy with how I was, so the catheter and cannulas could be removed. Then I would just have to wee and I’d be able to go home! I didn’t expect this to be a problem as I’d been drinking all afternoon, but my bladder was not keen on letting any of it go.

I managed one rather small wee, which was not adequate, then I just had to drink more. I drank glass after glass, watching the clock because I really wanted to get to The Glee to see Tom and Suzi for 8. About 10 past 7, my stomach was as tight as drum with the amount of water filling it up, and I went to see if there was anything to be done that might help. I couldn’t have any diuretics, but Rachel was happy that I had at least done a wee and was confident that I was sensible enough to know what to do if anything seemed wrong.

I went for one more pitiful try, then Mommy and I took the paperwork and cream, and off to The Glee we went! I decided that I would text Suzi and ask her if she could get a member of staff to let me in the back door so I could go up in the lift and not have to climb the stairs, which she very obligingly did.

This meant I was the first one in, and for a little while, I sat alone in the studio while an excellent playlist of musical theatre tunes played. I couldn’t do the kicks on stage that I might have, but I did take a selfie because I’m cool. Then the room started to fill up, and Tom and Suzi appeared! The format was essentially intro, Suzi’s show, interval, Tom’s show. They were both equally hilarious and thought-provoking and delightful in different ways, and I enjoyed myself immensely. I popped into the dressing room at the interval to say hello and have hugs and chats, and I got to wang on about my very strange day.

Time flew by, and suddenly it was time for part two, so we had group hug and a photo before Tom’s half. I think his show was longer than Suzi’s, and by the time it was curtain down, it was nearly eleven o’clock and I was very ready to go to bed. So tired. But I was really happy I got to finish my day laughing so much with my lovely pals.

The 19th of November.

Well I don’t feel great. Having got in late, I thought I’d sleep really well, but all that water caught up with me and I woke up four times to pee. Did not want to wake up at half nine when my alarm went off but I thought I should.

I stayed in my pyjamas all morning, feeling rather delicate and taking things slowly. Mommy and I caught up on I’m A Celebrity, and I finished crocheting the tiny Christmas tree for inside a bauble. Lunchtime came round quickly, and it felt like a beans on toast kind of day. Warm, cosy food.

This afternoon, I had a go with the topical estrogen. It didn’t work quite the way I thought it would with the dilator, so tomorrow I’ll try the applicator that was provided. It certainly went in a lot further than it used to, so the surgery definitely did its job. I was glad I decided to it on a towel as I am still bleeding and had I not, I would have ruined a duvet cover. Admittedly only a rather unexciting one from Tesco, but still.

I then spent a good couple of hours writing four and half pages about yesterday. I really hope you enjoy all the detail. When I’d finished, I finally read this morning’s paper, and made the penultimate bauble. Just one left to go, for the tree to go in. It might have to be a special one because a) I have run out of outer bauble wool and b) the tree seems too big to fit in the same size as the rest.

I think it might be somewhat longer than I thought until I am back at the gym.

The 13th of September. 

I have had just the most perfect day. So happy. I got up and had time to write up a post before we had to leave for the station, where I got a flat white from Starbucks that did not taste like garbage, and got settled on the train. My plug sockets weren’t working which was not ideal, but a nice man at the next table down let me use his spare one to charge my phone. 

The man with the ramp was very prompt for once, so I swiftly alighted and got a taxi to Kaffeine where I was meeting Suzi. The cabbie was very chirpy, whistling a happy tune as we made our way through the traffic and I was only a tiny bit late. We sat outside because it was a) gorgeous weather and b) much easier than wrestling the wheelchair inside, and we basked in the sunshine. I had a really excellent dark chocolate brownie and flat white by the way, I would recommend. I elaborated on what the event tonight was, and told her about the situation with my back, and she caught me up on how Edinburgh had gone, and explained what she’s working on at the moment which all sounds very promising and I’m excited for her. While we were sitting, a man walked past us into the shop, and I said “That guy looks like Dexter” (as in, Michael C. Hall from Dexter) and she said “That is Dexter!” so that was my London celeb-spot for the day. No idea why he’s here but whatever. I was later reminded that he had a stem cell transplant a while ago and I should’ve got him to come tonight. I am not quick-thinking enough. She had to leave at quarter past one, but was going in the same direction as me, so we headed towards Selfridges until she had to split off to go to her meeting. It was so nice to catch up; she is such a babe. 

In Selfridges I bought some rainbow bagels and a cinnabon, which I ate in the Starbucks on level 4 while listening to an hour long podcast to kill some time. I had a browse of the book section, where I had to disappoint a girl who wanted to know where I got my hair done. Sorry, you have to travel to Birmingham for this. 

I gave myself plenty of time to get to Zizzi where I was meeting Lauren for dinner, and had a few stops on the way. I went past Workshop Coffee where I bought some Square Mile Sweet Shop beans, and then made a stop in Konditor and Cook for two brownies – I was very restrained. That was just round the corner from the restaurant, and I was only about ten minutes early, so they let me sit down and peruse the menu while I waited. When she arrived, we pretty much ordered straightaway, and our pizzas arrived very quickly. I was still quite full from all the cake, so I only managed about a third of mine, but it was fine, I took the rest away in a box. We got to talk about her joy at finishing her MA and being able to read books for fun, and how her nan is having a great holiday in Ireland with all her friends. 

We paid, then had to find our way to the BMA. First we went the wrong way, but Google Maps put us back on the right track. We met up with Amy outside her office building which is basically next door, and we had a tiny group hang before Lauren went to meet her other friend and Amy and I went into the BMA. We picked up our passes and followed the signs that said Anthony Nolan. I had to get in a teeny tiny lift to get down to the room we were using, although we then very quickly left it to go into the attached garden. Ben was out there with a large folder of papers, and he said hi before going to greet guests. Amy and I sat at a table in a slightly shaded area, and various people gravitated towards us for chats. Some Anthony Nolan people I knew like Richard and Henny, some I didn’t, Charlie Craddock, and we had a delightful time discussing podcasts with a guy called Owen who’s a donor and his friend. They’re doing the Birmingham half-marathon in October but not to raise any money, they’re saving that for the full marathon that comes next. I also briefly got to meet Alice Byron’s dad, and we talked jaundice and liver drugs, then before we could talk more we were being ushered inside for speeches. First Henny, then Charlie, then me. It was fine, much better when I had it written out, and much less crying this time. Lots of people came to speak to me afterwards, including Nadia Martini, Yaser’s sister, so it was super nice to meet her, and I spoke to other people who’d had transplants or had family members who had. Everyone told me how inspiring I was, and Ben presented me with some beautiful flowers. At nine, it finished, so I said all my goodbyes, and Amy and I headed back to Euston where I gave a homeless man my box of pizza. She sat with me until her train came, then mine was delayed by fifteen minutes, so by the time we pulled into New Street, I was more than ready to be home. Toast, then bed. 

The 14th of September. 

Didn’t get as much sleep as I would have liked because I had an appointment to get my hair cut at quarter past ten. While I was in Starbucks yesterday I just had the overwhelming urge to chop it all off again and lo, it is done. Wonderful Michaela. She’s undercut the sides and it’s longer on top so I look a bit shaggy in a good way. So glad it’s done. 

When I got home, I had lunch which included the fudgepacker brownie I bought at Konditor and Cook, then I sat for about an hour, writing about yesterday. So much to say!

One of the effects of me sitting down all day was that my feet had puffed up with fluid. My back is actually not terrible, I think because I got out of my chair as much as possible, but there has to be some sort of punishment for going out. To try and combat it, I went up to my bedroom where I lay on my back with my legs up against the wall, trying to drain the fluid out of my feet while I watched the first episode of American Horror Story. We’ll see how that goes – if it gets too scary, I’ll find something else. 

Back out this evening for an Old Hallfieldians reunion. The traffic was ghastly, so I was half an hour late, but when I arrived, Celia was the only one there. After some sleuthing, we determined that the MailChimp email didn’t go out. Thankfully, other people did start to arrive, but most excitingly, my friend Steph came! I have known her since we were five but haven’t seen her since we were sixteen as she went to Rugby for sixth form, then university in Nottingham and New York, and has been travelling since then. 

She’s an artist now, and has been artist in residence at The Met in New York and The Museum of Tomorrow in Brazil, so she’s just a bit great. She’s back in England for a month, so she and her mum came to the pub and we had dinner while chatting about life now and back then. Things like the controversy of the elocution competition, the school play of Sleeping Jack Whittington and the Seven Bears, and the time we did an assembly in which I had to wear Steph’s mum’s fox fur coat. No idea what I was meant to be, but it was huge and really soft. Such random things I remember. 

We left just after nine, and I gave her the biggest hug I could muster. Not leaving it ten years until next time!

The 17th of January. 

Not super-exciting day. I’m nearly back into my normal sleep pattern, I just have to fight the urge to ignore my alarm when it comes to morning. 

I watched Sunday Brunch while I did a blog post, then went through three of Mommy’s food magazines, marking the recipes I want to eat. Mainly stuff involving root vegetables, my go-to food when it’s freezing. Those and beans on toast, which I had for lunch. More snow today, proper snow this time, not just a heavy frost. 

After hairwash, I crocheted all afternoon, working in the second thing for Suzi, which I should have done by the end of tomorrow. I worried about the colour of my phlegm (delightful, I know) because it’s definitely yellow today, but I don’t feel any different. I really hope it was just a blip because I am supposed to be getting better. I cannot afford to have coloured junk coming up from my lungs now of all times! 

The 18th of January. 

I have felt kind of floopy all day. My back is painful again so that is irritating, but I have the chiro on Wednesday so Trine can fix me again then. Thank god for that woman. 

It’s been another crochet day – second project done! I’ll get a box tomorrow after my fringe trim so I can pop them in the post. I watched the last two episodes of season 2 of Pretty Little Liars while I worked, and that was very dramatic. Also dramatic was the second episode of season 3 of Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D – if you watch it, you’ll know what I mean. So stressful. 

That is pretty much it, I have to say. I’ve been in a shawl all day because it’s still awfully cold, and I’m thinking hard about things I want for my birthday. Anything from the Moomin shop, coffee, baked goods, fancy wool, jelly babies, cute nail vanishes, pictures of dogs. It’s so difficult to come up with things!