Friday, a rest from training day. I am hoping to be fit enough to do things at the weekend. The reality is that I get up late, eat pizza for brunch and take my meds feeling pretty crap. I write a poem, which is not blogable and then spend my time trying to keep myself organised. In the afternoon my partner and her brother go to visit their mother in hospital who continues to try and recover from a stroke.

The garden guy turns up and I get him to start digging out some of the bamboo in the to end of the garden. I make him coffee and we chat for a while about his food bank work. While he is hacking and digging I fill the bird feeders and the squirrel feeder before retreating to the sofa to rest. I feel very tired. The garden guy fills the garden waste bin and donates a couple of loafs of bread to the household before leaving. My partner returns and reports on how her mother is. The stroke has been confirmed and there is now a period of monitoring before she returns to her previous hospital placement for recovery. We eat tea and settle down to watch some TV, Grace and Beyond Paradise before I take my meds and go off to bed feeling decidedly off it. It does not feel as if my rest day has had much effect on me.

Saturday and I wake to a partner struggling with the shower. The water pressure is low and the downstairs shower needs to be cleaned. I get up and adjust our heating system and the shower then works. I’ve had a poor night, needing to get up several times as my gut is off colour. So back in bed I take my vitals, which given the circumstances are okay except the high heart rate. My partner brings me a hot water and I scribble a poem.

519
There is a void,
a deep vacuum 
where who I was
sits empty.
Not lost,
but inert.
This poison
disables me
robs my taste,
speeds my heart
and fatigues me
beyond my limits.
The flow has stopped,
Everything is a distraction
and I am bushwhacked
from all sides
through every sense.
The smelling salts
of optimism
are denied me.
I am slumped in my corner
with four more rounds 
to go.
Across the ring
the opponent grins.
						519 18-04-2026

I get up and make myself breakfast and take my morning meds. I then start to draft the blog for the last couple of days. I have still yet to shower and reset the heating system and have a shower. I still do not know if I am going to go to the poetry today or the lunchtime meal tomorrow. Its all about effort and whether realistically I have the energy or that my disturbed gut will allow me to travel.

At the end of the day I did not make it to the poetry Stanza. I watched a lot of football and rugby. I ate pasta and spent my evening watching The Murder Line, a very improbable Canadian drama series. eventually I take my night meds and go off to bed hoping to sleep. Tomorrow I shall see if I am well enough to meet with friends for lunch.