Christmas Eve.
The plan: last moment baking in the morning, then a relaxed afternoon followed by Carols from Kings. During that, step into the garden and raise a glass to the stars, to all those I miss - particularly the lovely man who, were he still with me, would have extracted the cork from the bottle dexterously and with grace with a slight pressure of his thumbs. (He was suspiciously adept)
The reality: baking seemed to take all day. With rest stops, kitchen still vaguely resembles a bomb site after forcing last boxes of sausage rolls and smoked salmon twists into fridge. Gaze at washing up, decide to do it later and continue with glass-to-heavens plan during Carols from Kings. Flaw in cunning plan: overlooked that PMR can affect strength in arms, hands and thumbs.
20 minutes later, red faced and sweating, finally wrestle wretched cork out of bottle just seconds before admitting defeat and chapping on neighbour’s door to beg for help.
Fizz slips into glass. Choristers sound magical. Fizz tastes good. Raise glass to heavens. Ask husband what he thinks he’s doing up there when I need him to get corks out of bottles. Oddly enough, he ignores me.
But still here, still upright and have extracted fizz from bottle. That’s a result - as are all the small victories we all achieve, every day, all the year round. Happy Christmas, everyone xx
Its Christmas.....again.
The same procedure as every year!
Advice about plan of treatment
Does prednisone help or cause the extreme tiredness.
