Archives For tired

The 7th of May.

The eyes are less sleepy today, and that is welcome, but what is less so is that it has been painful to have my left eye open since I woke up, no matter how many eye drops I put in.

It’s been a day of mainly blog admin, so a short entry today. This morning, I wrote about yesterday while watching Sunday Brunch, occasionally muting it when Pixie Lott was on (I’m sorry but I just can’t stand her).

After lunch, I finished typing up the six blog posts, and they are scheduled to be published over the next several hours. While I did this, I watched four more episodes of 13 Reasons Why. Now I have four left, and I don’t know if I can be arsed to watch them or if I’ll just read what happens. I want to know, but the show is kind of a drag.

I have been thinking more about my arm. Of course I have, I think about it all the time. I wonder if we are being somewhat narrow-minded about the cause? Is there anything else that could be the reason behind the swelling? The only thing I can come up with is lymphedema, but if it is that, surely the compression garment would be having some kind of effect? None of it makes any sense.

The 8th of May.

I am desperate to have a nap again and my level of pain is still the same. Probably going to have to double the pregablin I think, so I will get even sleepier. But maybe that will wear off and the pain will get better.

The only interesting thing that happened today was that I had my appointment with Mr. Titley, the plastic surgeon that Miss Byrom had written to about me. First of all, I had to tell him my entire history, and there’s so many things to remember now. I’m going to have to write down exactly what I have been through and when in a relatively concise format. I almost forgot about the venoplasties, despite my arm being literally right in front of me.

Anyway. We then moved on to why I was actually there. I ran through my history with the Women’s and Miss Byrom and what we have been through so far. He talked to me about what he has done for Miss Byrom before, which is not like what I will probably need, so I may well need some kind of bespoke procedure. Typical of me. However, he can’t offer me any particular treatment until he knows exactly what he is dealing with, so I will need to be examined under general anaesthetic. He needs to talk to his anaesthetist who will need to talk to Dr. Thompson, then I’ll probably get a date for another ambulatory care day.

He asked what I’d like to get out of this, and frankly I just want one part of my body to do its fucking job like it used to. If someone were mad enough to want to date me, I don’t want yet another reason to put them off. Considering the fact that most men ask if I can still have sex when they find out about my disability, I’d like saying yes to not become a lie.

The 1st of May.

I feel like crap. I think I might have caught what Mommy had.

I had a better night in my nice, warm, double bed, but I am still exhausted. Need a few more sleeps before I catch up.

My intention for today was to write about the weekend and maybe even blog about it, but the reality has been sitting in the armchair (which feels just divine compared to my wheelchair/the car) and watching tv we recorded. Trying not to cough which is difficult because my throat is all scratchy. I had a honey and lemon but it was not particularly helpful.

Ohhh I don’t want to be ill again. Especially if it’s a common virus because they always make me feel like shit and last so much longer than they should, the bastards. Going to have some Strepsils and an early night.

The 2nd of May.

Trying to work out if I am ill or just tired from the weekend. I really hope it’s the latter. My sats have been up and down, and I have this dry cough that is hard to alleviate. Strepsils have not been much good.

I have been quite pathetic all day, curled up in my most comfortable clothes. Soft jumper and jogging bottoms. Still a big jumper because my arm is still the same size, so we rang Andrew’s secretary this morning. I need to be in his clinic on Thursday. John and Maddie’s wedding is in a month and I don’t fancy looking like a freak. The thing is, I don’t know what else can be done.

This afternoon, I finally got round to finishing writing about Saturday. I have yet to do Sunday. It took a couple of hours, but that was because I was half-watching recorded programmes at the same time. It’s going to be a long post when it comes.

Mommy went to pick up Sam from Lee’s, so I’ve been in to sit with him for a while too, and have been floofed on. He’s settled right back in.

UGH my body is fucked.

The 29th of April.

Today has been so exhausting and so good.

I slept less well – super cold last night and no lung capacity to get more layers so I froze until I was too tired to care. This morning, I decided not to climb the stairs so as not to waste oxygen, so I just hung out in my bedroom until it was time for us to go out to see Tez Ilyas. He was great, as expected, i mean that’s going to be the case for every act I mention. I had to help him out at one point because the members of the audience he picked were not answering the question he asked correctly. Not paying enough attention!

He ran over slightly, so afterwards I literally just had time to grab a coffee before heading over to The Youth Wing to see Phil Wang. That was problematic, because the way I went meant I got stuck at a flight of stairs, but thankfully some very kind strangers offered to carry my chair down the steps (without me in it) and then I was back on my way. I got in and parked on the end of a row, and ended up with various members of sketch groups Pappy’s and Daphne to my right, with Tom Parry sprawled across the floor, snorting with laughter. For a work in progress, it was pretty slick, and I’ll be keeping a lookout for the finished product on tour.

I had Lolly Adefope straight after in The Canteen, so I left The Youth Wing the way I should have gone in, so I could get myself some more coffee before making my way back round to the other side of the school. On the way, I bumped into one of the women I hung out with last night, and she was going to Lolly too.

Coffee in hand, I drove down to The Canteen to join the queue. Being in the chair, I got moved to the front, which turned out to be a blessing and a curse. She was due to start at 4, but there were technical issues – there were cables that were needed and I watched people running back and forth trying to get hold of the right ones. This went on for just over an hour, and every time somebody came back, the hearts of the queue lifted, only to fall again when the doors didn’t open. I felt really bad for the guy who was checking the tickets – he knew nothing more than we did, and there wasn’t really anything he could do, I could hear people behind me getting (understandably) frustrated because this was going to impact upon their attendance of their next show, so they were having to decide who they wanted to see more. I was okay to wait, because my next show wasn’t until 7.15, and I was glad I did.

Her show is a reply to her reviews from her last show at the Fringe, in which she was criticised for not referring to her race enough and for talking about it too much. It would be like me doing a show and discussing or not discussing my disability. I have to applaud her too for her excellent singing, and for dealing with groups of people leaving towards the end of the show. Super impressed.

It ended just before six, and I was starving, having only had coffee since my crumpet at breakfast time. I got myself a smoky sausage in a bun (relatively easy to eat and no danger of spice) and ate it while watching all the fun dogs around. I even met a famous dog, Rosie, who is regularly heard on Rhod Gilbert’s Saturday morning show. She is a very good dog.

My next show, The Griefcast with Cariad Lloyd, was up stairs, but when checking the venues yesterday I’d been informed that there was a lift I could use. Today there was a worry because they had put an Out of Order sign on the door, but that was just to put able-bodied people off using it. Sneaky.

It was a small room and VERY HOT. Lots of people crammed in. The guests were Phil Wang, Kiri Pr’chard-McLean and Nish. Usually, the show is Cariad interviewing a comedian about a particular death, but today the topic was just death in general. In an amusing fashion. The last topic was “last words”, and Cariad asked them all what theirs would be. Phil missed a trick with his answer, and Cariad asked if there were any questions. I put my hand up and Nish pointed me out. I could have asked something poignant, but I had to say that surely, Phil’s last words should be “Wang out.” I saw the pun and had to say it. I don’t know if it’ll be on the podcast but I hope so. The only time I think my brain has worked that fast.

My next show wasn’t until 11.30 and also included Nish in the line up, so he met me back downstairs and the rest of the evening is a blur of faces and saying “Nice to meet you.” I did mean it each time, I just met a lot of people! We went to the bar in Y Plas where pretty much every comic at the show was.

Honestly I couldn’t tell you what we talked about, I just remember that for once, I wasn’t telling the story of my life ten thousand times, people just treated me like I as part of the gang and that pretty much never happens with people who don’t know me. It was just the most fun.

My oxygen ran out in the middle of Beat This, so I had to text Mommy and get her and Daddy to come and swap it over for a new one. I thought that might be enough to tide me over, but thinking about getting the taxi back on my own, having to deal with the chair, I just knew that it was going to be horrific. I cancelled the car, and sneaked out the side door. Knackered, but elated.

The 30th of April.

Going home early. It’s fine, we just don’t have enough oxygen for me to do another night.

We had to get into Mach earlier today, because there was a massive cycling race that started in the town and was going to close the road that we use to come in on. We got in at about eleven, and I sat in the car while Mommy and Daddy went to get coffee and some sort of breakfast pastries. I ate my co-op cinnamon swirl, then set off to Y Tabernacl for Pappy’s Flatshare Slamdown. Matthew and Ben said hi on their way in, and when the queue started to move, I went over to the lift to go up half a floor so I could enter the hall. There was a step down to the pews, so I just parked my chair at the best vantage point. Josh was a guest, and he saw me so he came over. Kiri was meant to be on the show but had yet to arrive, so other comedians were being texted en masse. Who turned up but ol’ Nishy Kumar? Kiri appeared shortly after, so we just got an extra person’s-worth of funny for free. I had a joyous time, particularly enjoying the quickfire round jingle that Tom and Ben recorded with Nish and Josie last night at Y Plas when Josie was full of Pinot Noir. I can’t wait to hear it when it goes out.

They ran over, as one has to expect, so then I had to bomb it down a rather steep hill to The Mach Arena for Josh and Friends. The wheelchair view in there was less good, but enough that I could just about see. We had stand-up from Josh, Matthew Crosby, Nish and James Acaster, then he read out some classic scrapes from his book which are all hysterical.

Upon coming out, I bumped into Amy, and we talked while Mommy and Daddy went to get food. I informed her of the racist attack Nish had just endured (Josh threw a massive ball at him but he was not injured), then they went to get lunch and we went to eat ours. We discussed oxygen levels, and we only had one full bottle left, so came to the conclusion that I only really had one more show left in me. Mommy and Daddy went back to the house to pack up, and I went to get more coffee and see who I could see before it was time for Sara Pascoe.

Happily, a lot of my lovely pals were still around, so there was Nish, Josh, Fin, Tom, a whole host of people. We whiled away the time together until everyone had to beetle off to our respective shows, and I left loving my wonderful gang.

Sara was fantastic as always, and I look forward to seeing the finished piece when she takes it on tour. I didn’t have time to hang around to see her afterwards because Daddy was coming to pick me up. We returned to the house, packed everything into the car, and we set off on the long drive home. I am so happy and I’ve had such an incredible weekend – definitely going again next year. Hopefully without any extra oxygen.

The 3rd of April. 

I am so tired. Not just physically tired, but mentally, I am exhausted. I had Zopiclone last night which worked, but I don’t know how much good it did. 

Really, I feel like I am waiting for each day of the next three weeks to be over. That’s when my venoplasty is, but it by no means will fix everything. Well, it should fix my arm, but I’ve lost faith in its efficacy. I don’t know. Recovering from the pneumonia is really frustrating because improvements will be so incremental that I won’t even notice I’m getting better. I’m just hoping with every part of me that I’m not still needing oxygen at Machynlleth. Then there’s my back pain to deal with – I have an appointment at the GP to sort out starting the patches, which I really hope work because it hurts so much at the moment, I can’t even force myself to sit up straight. Then there’s my eye, no longer really causing me pain, but I can’t see out of it effectively – everything on that side is a blur. I haven’t got my follow-up appointment at the QE yet from when I saw the eye man in February so I need to ring up the consultant’s secretary about that. And let’s not forget the gynae issues that take up a chunk of each day too. 

I have nothing in the diary to look forward to in the next few weeks either. I’m worried the heavy cloud will descend once more. 

The 4th of April. 

Slightly improved today. Not physically, but mentally. I had a terrible sleep, tossing and turning, so my plans of extra sleep are not going brilliantly. 

Bad sleep has resulted in bad breathing, and even with 3 litres of oxygen, showering was quite the ordeal. It was not even that difficult in hospital, although that time I was not particularly active. Anyway, not an especially productive morning. Essentially, I got dressed. 

This afternoon, I let Spike out for a little explore before his lunch, and we had a very pleasant time. I rubbed his belly lots and tried to take pictures, but he doesn’t stay still long enough. Mommy took Grandma out into Sutton, and I sat and finished crocheting the most recent doily while listening to episodes 4 and 5 of S-Town. It is such a sad, sad story, for everybody involved – I can’t think of a single person who is having what might be called a relatively easy life. And it’s so complicated, and I doubt it will all be resolved in the next two episodes. Much like the last two books I have read, with their unsatisfying endings. I need something wrapped up neatly in a box.

The 10th of August. 

Today the pain is much worse and I can’t really understand why. I’m up to 40mg of oxycontin and I was in the wheelchair a bit yesterday, but not to the extent that it would cause such an enormous step back. It doesn’t make sense. I’ve taken three oxynorm too but that hasn’t made a huge difference either. I don’t know. I’m so glad I’ve got clinic and the MRI next week, maybe I’ll get some help. 

It hasn’t been a great day. I’m all tired and itchy from the drugs, I didn’t have a good sleep, and woke up to the news that we missed multiple medals overnight. This Olympics is not going spectacularly well so far. I’m hoping matters improve.

This afternoon, after I got involved with a hashtag on Twitter (why do I do this? It literally never ends well), some dickhead decided to make a meme insulting me. I know that kind of ridiculous bullshit is really not even worth my energy and I should just block people, but it still makes me feel shitty. I wouldn’t have been so bothered if it was the first time I’d seen it, but one of my followers sent me the same meme with different text asking if it was me. I got a bunch of notifications then from prickmonkeys liking it and replying, but I got the original tweet deleted and I thought that was the end of it. To see it again makes me worry that it might become a thing and I really don’t want my face being known on the internet for something that makes me feel shit about myself when I have things to say that are actually important. 

I really feel like crying and I think that is what bothers me the most, because I am letting the arseholes get to me. 

The 11th of August. 

Oh my god I am so sleepy and itchy! I slept really badly, waking up in pain constantly and itching all over. From six o’clock onwards, I couldn’t really go back to sleep, so I watched some Fringe and got up just before eight. The pain was really awful this morning, just getting out of bed was hard, and I don’t get it. When getting dressed, I found my torso is covered in a rash – the itchiness has physically manifested and it is driving me insane. I want to rub up against a tree like a bear, but instead am using a spaghetti scoop as a back scratcher. 

I’ve been sitting around all day waiting for the phone to ring, because we called the nurses this morning to talk about a) pain and b) I have run out of estrogen patches and I’ll need one for Saturday but I’m not in clinic until Wednesday – usually I have enough but my appointment got pushed back a week so I have no HRT. They were all on ward round this morning, and you never know when they’ll finish so I have just crocheted all day long. I got to the end of one ball of wool on the baby blanket in doing to find I’m definitely going to need two more balls to finish it, but the colour I’m using is sold out everywhere, so I’ve had to buy another shade and make it stripy. Then I started on an oversized jumper, but having done the first four rows, it was going to be stupidly large. I’ve unravelled it all and started again, knocking off twenty stitches. I hope I don’t regret it. 

Some good news is that our Olympic performance has improved greatly. Many silvers and golds!

The 23rd of July.

Wow I am in a lot of pain. A ridiculous amount. I cannot move without it and even sitting still it’s there, just not quite as excruciating. But that is because of all I’ve done (or not done) today so let’s rewind to the beginning.

Meant to get up at five but woke an hour before that. Not ideal but OH WELL, it meant I had extra time to have coffee and not get stressed. Always glad for that.

We had an interesting start in the assistance office; a guy came in and was very annoyed because the station staff wouldn’t let him through the barriers because he didn’t have a ticket. This was because he had been out all night and lost his friends, his phone and his wallet. All he had was his keys. He was obviously still a bit drunk because he couldn’t grasp the concept of having to dial 91 before the phone number he wanted to get an outside line when trying to call his grandparents to help him. The woman dealing with him had the absolute patience of a saint. The grandparents didn’t seem able to come to his aid, and he was getting more and more wound up, so in the end, I took a tenner from my purse and just gave it to him so he could buy himself a ticket. He was only going to Lichfield so it wasn’t going to cost him that much but it was fine. He then wouldn’t leave until I gave him some details so he could pay me back. I scribbled down my name and number but I am not expecting him to contact me. I don’t suppose he’ll even remember what they’re for. I just hope he got home safe.

Our journey was not particularly exciting. On the train, read the paper, listened to the Ghostbusters soundtrack. Rhythm of the Night has become my jam since seeing the film. Just before we arrived, a girl was about to go to the toilet, which I am always sat next to, being in the disabled space, and she suddenly said my name. I looked round and it was Charlotte who I met when our TCT group went to the Royal Albert Hall for the comedy night a few years ago. She has a brain tumour, but from what she said, it seems to be relatively dormant. She’s getting married, so I got to see her engagement ring and it is gorgeous. She and her fiancé were down for an exhibition. Must arrange to meet up with her; it’s been far too long. Euston assistance was not so good this time – a Virgin chap got the ramp for me and the man appeared as we were leaving. He looked pretty irked by the fact that I was off the train without him but we waited the five minutes that he’s supposed to arrive within so it is not my problem. Be on time mate.

We went up the road to St. Pancras which was full to bursting of what seemed to be school parties with suitcases, so we didn’t hang around and went straight to platform 12 to get on a bullet train to Stratford International. There was some fun lift Tetris with us and two people with bicycles, but we manoeuvred ourselves successfully. We folded up the chair once on the train and Mommy stayed with it in the vestibule, and I sat with a family from Yorkshire who were going to the games too. We were lucky to get on when we did, because it filled up to the point of sardinedom. Mmm, sweaty. I was glad our trip was only going to take 6 minutes.

When we arrived at Stratford, we went over to Westfield to get ourselves some lunch. Waitrose was straight ahead, so we picked up sandwiches from there, then spotted a Bread Ahead stand! DOUGHNUTS. They had about four left, so I bought a chocolate one for me and a crème caramel one for Christine. We came across a horde of people going to the Olympic Park, so we waited out of the way of them to meet up with her. While we stood outside John Lewis, Mommy suddenly started hitting me on the arm. I didn’t know what I’d done wrong, then realised it was out of excitement because Michael Johnson (four-time gold medallist and very famous sprinter/now presenter of athletics) had just walked past and she is a massive fan.  She was like me when I saw Adele in Liberty.

Christine emerged from the crowd, and we joined the mass of bodies heading for the stadium. I’d forgotten how far it is. Past the Orbit and it’s terrifying-looking slide, a group of people surrounding Gabby Logan, taking photos of her doing a piece to camera (weird), and we finally found our gate.

We were in wheelchair position seats, and had a really great view over the whole stadium. We were at the finish end, facing the line itself so it was perfect for taking photos. We were also in the shade and it stayed that way all day, thankfully, as we could see the people on the opposite side in the sunshine just baking, fanning themselves all afternoon.

We began with the para-athletic events, and the day got off to a great start with Richard Whitehead breaking his own world record! Unfortunately neither Jonnie Peacock nor David Weir won their races, but hopefully they do at the Paralympics, when it actually matters. Libby Clegg got a new world record too, with a guide she’s only just started running with.

There was a half hour break before the able-bodied athletes came in, so we ate our lunches and took the opportunity to use the toilets which were very close by. To kick it off, some of the big names were brought out on the backs of trucks, being driven around the track with flames being sent up to emphasise how exciting it was.

I won’t list all the events we saw – there are photos. We witnessed two false starts, both by team GB athletes which was very annoying, for them and us! Poor Martin Rooney. Jess Ennis-Hill and KJT were long-jumping away, and I’m hoping I got some decent shots of them. The men’s relay was a huge success, with the GB teams taking first and second place. Admittedly the Jamaicans weren’t there but still, it bodes well for Rio.

The last and main event was the 5000m with Mo Farah. The first twelve-thirteen minutes are not particularly thrilling, but for the last couple of laps the crowd got louder and louder, and for the final one, everyone was on their feet, clapping and yelling at Mo to win. It was clear that he would, but to actually witness it with my own eyes, to be a part of that moment was pretty special. It was nice to feel great about this country for a minute.

Leaving was slow, to say the least. There was only one way to go, with everyone being herded like sheep in the same direction by stewards. There were even people with stop/go lollipops which everyone obeyed without question. Only in Britain would that system work. At several points we had to cut across the flow of traffic to get to step-free access, but generally most people were very accommodating. One of the great novelties of being in a wheelchair is that people will apologise to you and even break into a run for absolutely no reason.

We eventually got to the station, where there was a very long queue for trains back to London. However, a member of staff came up to us and said we could go straight to the front. Another wheelchair perk. We went down to the platform where a train was waiting and in no time at all we were away again!

At the other end, we made our return to Euston where we bought some food and went to see the assistance people. We had open return tickets back (even though I’m certain I booked a specific train but that’s what the machine printed out so whatever, I’m not going to quarrel with it) so I wasn’t sure if they’d be able to help us, but we were sent straight to a platform. However, when we got there, we couldn’t get on the train because they hadn’t been able to couple the carriages. In the end it got fixed though, we got on in coach G and were home an hour earlier than planned. Smashing.

The 24th of July.

Agony. Agony all day. I can’t stand up straight. Not even in an “I can but it hurts” kind of way, in a my body physically will not do it kind of way. I can’t lie flat on my back without putting my knees up. I don’t walk, I waddle. It hurts all the time. It feels like my pelvis is literally crumbling inside me. Hospital tomorrow; I need some drugs.

This morning I was writing, and this afternoon, Daddy and I went to see Star Trek Beyond. Every scene with Chekov broke my heart, and there’s a lot of them. It’s so tragic. Plus there’s a whole thread about Ambassador Spock/Leonard Nimoy’s death, so a lot of it is pretty bleak. There are comedic moments too, but I’d expect nothing less with Simon Pegg as a writer. Of course there are flaws but I wasn’t expecting it to be amazing, just an entertaining couple of hours and a distraction from the pain, which it was.

When we got back, I decided I wanted to make a video, to ask Jeremy Hunt why we can’t afford second stem cell transplants now. I didn’t feel like writing was enough – I want people to hear how passionate I am about this, to see me, and a blog post won’t quite do that. First I needed to plan what I was going to say, then record it and not hate it. It took a while. I managed to write what I needed fairly easily, it was the delivery that was tricky. Looking at my notes and the camera was not easy. I had to stop so I could have dinner, then I was straight back upstairs. I finally got a set up that worked, then I just had to keep recording myself until I got it right. By ten to nine it was done, and I’ve sent it to Anthony Nolan before I share it. It needs to be done right to have the impact I want. I’m hoping it’s going to be big. I need it to be. I will do anything to get this reversed, even if it requires being on film and hearing myself out loud, which I cannot stand. Please watch it and share it on Twitter, Facebook, anywhere you want. Get all your friends and watch it and ask them to spread it around too. Click here to email your MP with a letter asking them to write to Jeremy Hunt to ask him to intervene and change this decision.

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Richard Whitehead after his record-breaking win.

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Richard Whitehead after his record-breaking win.

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Jonnie Peacock post-race.

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Jess Ennis-Hill.

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Relay win!

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Shara Proctor.

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Martin Lewis, the moneysupermarket man for some reason?

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Before the false start.

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The empty lane.

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KJT.

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No caption required.

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The 21st of July. 

Today has been so much nicer. It is warm enough to not have to wear a cardigan but not so warm that I’m incapable of breathing. This is what I would like all the time please. 

I woke up when my alarm went off, but then went back to sleep for half an hour. The kittens are super hungry when I got their breakfast to them. This morning I did a blog post (I should stop putting that in. You know when I do a blog post. They’re here.) and had some more wool delivered. It was on sale, and I have plans for it – some green, glittery wool will make a Christmas hat, and some pink baby wool is for a baby blanket. 

This afternoon, I have done much crocheting, not on the projects mentioned above though. Poppy the flowerpot cat, from the same pattern as the teacup cat I posted. Speaking of cats, we had a visit from Oscar! He actually came into the house and was very interested in smelling the doors the kittens are behind, so I had to move him on from there. We had a lovely time in the garden though. He’s so big now! Just a huge ball of foofiness. 

Following him around with my phone was really painful. I swear my back is getting worse. I can’t wait for these appointments to come through because I can barely stand without support. 

The 22nd of July. 

I am super sleepy. I took 100mg of Tramadol earlier because the pain in my back was off the charts. I have been in agony for most of the day. Moving around this morning was ghastly. Anyway, the Tramadol did not help, not even in a happy-making way, but now it is leaving my system and I’m drowsy. 

Another quiet day. Trying more to move too much because it hurts, and I can’t even crochet because my hand keeps cramping up. Not helpful! Only real activity today has been taking the kittens to the vet for their second vaccinations. We managed to get four in pretty easily, but then Nadia was under the chair. We were able to tempt her out with Dreamies, but she was still not in a position for us to pick her up. She slowly got through the trail we had laid out and we were able to sneak up on her. She was not thrilled but we got her in. 

At the vet, a lady came out with two dogs, one of whom was very sleepy, obviously after an anaesthetic. Then it was our turn, and they were all fairly well-behaved, except for Nadia who held onto the carrier for dear life, daft thing. No concerns about anyone, they’ve all put on weight, although it would be good if Nova could put on some more. She’s only 50g more than Nettie, who is 5 weeks younger than her, so that shows how small she is. The rest are 400-500g heavier. 

I am thinking of my followers and friends in Germany tonight. It is so sad and nonsensical. You are loved.