Crappola
Well, I went back to the docs (after seeing her a couple of weeks ago for something minor) and had a good talk. In fact, I had such a good talk that she gave me a severe bollocking for not coming to see her sooner and another one when she recalled I had been to see her and had left out 80% of the story, and yet another one for not taking my pain killers regularly enough, and she’s running a bunch of blood tests, and I have to go back to see her in a week. She wants to rule out a whole heap of things, the first being hypothyroidism. Trying saying that after a beer or six.
Upshot is, apparently I’m very stressed and extremely depressed. *snort*
I don’t have time to be depressed, I told her and got the raised eyebrow in response. Ho hum.
She did answer my questions about why I’m too young to operate on. It’s a painful, risky operation with a long recovery time that would just have to be repeated inside of five years as these disc things are recurring, and also there’s a risk of it turning me into a quadriplegic. Why didn’t the stupid registrar just say that in the first place??? No surgery today, ta ever so.
I’m allowed to walk and swim, but not run. I also have to lose weight - the only place I carry fat is around my belly and apparently that puts stress on the vertebrae, which kind of makes sense. Time to dig out the old Slimming world books.
It’s half term and James doesn’t have any time off as it’s Valentine’s Day on Thursday. And the weather is absolutely perfect for going and digging the lottie and I can’t.
My house looks like a bomb’s gone off as I can’t pick up anything from the floor.
And I’ve got writer’s block, which is driving me nuts.
