Last night I fell asleep at 7pm. Feeble. Wiped out by the day. A brief awakening at 11pm to remove a sweaty pyjama top. Still feeling rough.
This morning, a desire to travel again. Flying out for some winter sun. There are a few problems with this idea. Firstly, Oncobabe wouldn’t be pleased. Secondly, I’m not sure I have the strength to manage myself through airports and reach my hotel. And finally, sitting by the pool doesn’t really do it for me. Although a hot tub does. But walking any significant distance is now beyond me.
A week in Anglesey after my birthday will deliver the hot tub. Along with a warm and friendly Rachel. Although apparently I’m on morning tea making duties. And it is a week I’m looking forward to more than anything since our tour around the American South West back in September.
But perhaps I should start utilising my railcard again and doing the odd day trip. And see if that gives me the confidence to take on an overseas mini break. Or gives me the message that the Anglesey hideout is best for me at this stage.
I keep trying to convince myself that despite this illness my body is fit and healthy. But the body continuously tells me otherwise. At least the pain attacks of Friday and Saturday night have desisted. And the online prescription service at the GP has agreed to more tramadol, no questions asked.
Whatever happens, winter sun in Egypt isn’t on the agenda.