My queasiness turned into violent vomiting which unnerved me. Once that was over I seemed to feel myself again. I drank lots, with a rehydration tablet dissolved in it and went to bed.
But I awoke in a discombobulated state. I drank loads more water and ate some protein.
I checked in with my GP, not just about the food poisoning but another issue too. He told me I would need several days to recover fully.
I brought up the issue of linking with the hospice and became very weepy. It’s so emotive.
He suggested I might see a neurologist locally. I’ve already seen him. An excellent doctor, but an appalling bedside manner, and lack of awareness.
I don’t want to be poked and prodded again. I’ve been an experiment too much already. I want peace.
I love my life. I love my home. I love where I live. I’m just tired of forgetting where I put things and the energy it takes to do everything.
If only I could breathe without effort.
Mark, my GP, our children went to school together, so we address each other by first names, says we need to talk face to face so it has to wait until lockdown is over.
This is when I want a hand to hold in the night. My ex-husband would hold my hand in night if I slipped mine into his. No words. The same with Michael. I had a long relationship after I divorced my husband, and we touched as we slept too.
I have two heroes today. Mainly my daughter.
The vitriol on medium goes on. Callum Brown also made a complaint but about far more than I did.