From lugging an oxygen tank around, to getting up at the crack of dawn in dire need of a wee and wondering whether you'll make it to the bathroom in time, to taking hours to just have a shower and get dressed...well...not hours exactly, but you get my gist.
I come out of the bathroom to find Himself hovering anxiously and trying to pretend he isn't...
Going to the hospital for appointments has me exhausted, though some of that might just be fright 'cos my new Consultant is not a person to hedge about...she tells it as she sees it and I swear with a certain degree of relish!
And the nurse you have to see beforehand is decidedly scary...she looks much like the nurse on the left of the photo I put on yesterday and snapped my head off when I told her I'd bought an Oxymeter...time was I'd have thought of a suitably cutting reply but now all I really want to do is sit down.
Then there's the talking...now I'll talk the hind legs off a donkey without a bother on me...or at least I used to. Now I let other people do the talking while I smile a sickly sort of smile and hope they don't make me laugh 'cos then I'll cough and splutter and that'll make me tired as well...
There are still a few well-meaning people who imagine it's just a stage I'm going through and I'll suddenly announce I'm better...and those who regale you with horror stories of their Dad or Auntie three times removed who had the same disease and died...
Sometimes I can cook the supper but mostly I can't...and Himself does struggle so with cooking. He puts the potatoes on to boil first then he sits down and reads the paper or does a crossword and I ask what else is he cooking? Besides potatoes? Pork chops he says...so I run through...again...that they need to go in the oven now...before the tatties actually.
And he's befuddled because I don't eat meat...so I explain how to make cheese sauce to put with cauliflower or how to cook a stir-fry and honestly, by the time I've finished explaining I could have done it myself three times over...
But I do feel guilty about how much he does without any complaint...and he's nearly eighty you know. I'm a lot younger than he is...lol
The photo is of Neddy, our very old donkey, drinking out of the rainwater butt...Millie is in the background...Millie is quite good at writing though her spelling isn't brilliant...I'll see if she'll write something for you one day.
I'm in bed by eight with a hottie bottle and a thriller to read...
Onward and upward...!