Propped up on pillows

The nausea has a shape to it now. Thursday teatime it starts, Friday it peaks, Saturday afternoon it lifts. Once I could see the pattern it stopped feeling like something happening to me at random.

Constipation, which I have avoided writing about for six weeks out of pure squeamishness. It is the thing making me most miserable and I have said nothing about it to anybody. That seems worth noticing.

The burping. Nobody mentions the burping. It is not in any leaflet and it is genuinely one of the odder experiences of my adult life.

Flat again. Good.