Post 242: In bed mostly while presents were wrapped.
If there’s no good reason for getting up, don’t get up. Stay in bed. Rest and recover.
After three great days there ought to be a slowdown — let the muscles recoup and the body be still.
I was dozy at times today while my Darling did everything for me, even wrapping presents downstairs with the inquisitive Mr V. I’m back in bed now, and my fingers are saying stop now! You’re knackered.
The only thing I got out of bed for today was my monthly health review at work. This was the usual catch-up of my antics, and I kept most of it positive. I try to do that — it’s honest too. I can’t leave out the gory bits sometimes, but I steer away from things that are clearly upsetting.
Anyhow, the Christmas party is on Friday and I’ll pop along afterwards to get my turkey and chocolates from the firm as a little present. It’s always nice to get something free at the end of a year’s work — or in my case a quarter-year’s work — so I hope it’s not a quarter of a turkey.
What’s more on my mind just now is the meeting tomorrow at the hospice for my pain relief review. I’ve only had two gulps of oramorph in three days — which is tremendous.
But what will they say? And will I ask the myriad questions I should ask to get answers about what’s really going on inside me?
This sandwiching of two meetings into one feels appalling to me. It seems a stretch for it to be at the hospice — which sits outside the NHS — to be doing the work of my oncologist in the NHS. It doesn’t feel right, unless the charity that runs the hospice is being compensated in some way.
Soon I’ll know more.
Look… this isn’t working. My fingers aren’t happy today — dancing with clogs on. I’m unhappy that my occasionally uncontrollable fingers are getting worse and that it’s affecting the blog.
Sorry.
I just can’t keep control right now, nor can I see the bloody screen because I’m feeling so sorry for myself and the waterworks are pouring out of my eyes.
Good night for now.
