What Goes Up…

So the pills, they turned on me today, went on strike, refused to do the floaty thing anymore. The pain, oh the pain… All day. Being asked if I wanted to go home about 19 times was nice. Refusing to do it 19 times? S-T-U-P-I-D.

The lovely cotton wool turned into a thick grey sludge which made me feel simultaneously like I was drowning as I was so heavy, and like I wasn’t actually in my body anymore. There wasn’t a moment when I didn’t feel nauseous but couldn’t be sick. I felt as weak as a kitten all day - attempts to raise blood sugars just resulted in more sick feeling. I couldn’t even face dinner tonight even though it was one of my favourites (Italian meatballs with tagliatelle (I know I’ve spelt that wrong…)) and fell into bed as soon as I got in.

I am only blogging now as my body decided I am allowed to be awake and in minimal pain long enough to get this post out there.

Just want to say thank you to my Mum for the cold flannel. Oh yeah, the hot flashes that were funny yesterday were draining today.

I have realised though this whole experience that I could never be an opiates addict as I would like a consistent high through the proceedings - not this hit and miss palaver.