The bad fortnight

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.

Described beautifully, which does not make it better.

Reflux again. I slept propped up on three pillows and woke at two anyway. I have an appointment on Thursday and I am going to actually mention it this time rather than deciding it is not worth bothering anyone about.

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.

A rough few days. Not dangerous, just relentlessly unpleasant, the kind of unwell where you cannot read and cannot sleep and cannot settle to anything.

Cramp in both calves in the night, twice this week. Mentioned it and had bloods done rather than being told to eat a banana, which I appreciated.

Enough words.