This is terror Tuesday. I wake up feeling knocked about and sore from yesterdays injection. I feel groggy and fatigued but mostly sore. I wonder if I am talking myself into this with a negative internal dialogue, but I feel crap against an internal dialogue that I can make more positive. Like in rain I know the sun will shine again, so I keep these thoughts in mind and tell myself that any small step I can make is a contribution to feeling better.
My partner brings me a coffee and I slowly check my messages, emails, and cyber litter. By 10 o’clock I get up and have muesli and coffee taking my morning meds as I do so. I wonder about taking more paracetamol, I am not keen but I know I shall probably do so at some point. I send my poem to the poetry Stanza for the coming meeting on Saturday, as I do I note that on Zoom meeting sessions I tend to send less personal poems and more humorous or trivial content poems. There is something about sharing the more “tricky” poems face to face which feels more appropriate.
By noon I am flagging again and cave in and take paracetamol. If only I could get moving, its a real Catch 22. So paracetamol, take my vitals and then try to find a way to rest restoratively. I end up listening to more Infinite Monkey Cage while laying down. Mid afternoon I try to rouse myself, clear the kitchen, put the bin out and take in a delivery, which includes my new beanie and fleece lined trousers. I am flagging but a new email comes in from the tax company that are working on my sisters estate. There are several things I do not understand and spend ages drafting a reply to try and clarify some points. No sooner than I have pressed the go key another email comes in from the solicitors which needs time to consider. We appear to have reached an impasse with HMRC despite having paid the inheritance tax, with solicitors advising to wait for the tax folk to clear everything.
Evening rolls up and my partner makes tea and we eat while I draft the blog and wait for the Great British Bake Off. I am still feeling like I have been run over by a bus and have a simple plan: take my meds and go to bed. It is definitely a case of eat, sleep, repeat. Right now my spoon economy is minimal, all I can do is hang on in there and trust my body will recover as it has done so many times before. Its just the nature of the cycle.
