I've been writing blog posts here ... then deleting blog posts, since finding out I have this iron deficiency.
I am consumed, these days, by the anemia. So frustrated. To the point where something about it slips into every post I try to write and I get so far through, see I've been whining, and delete.
Perhaps I just need to write, getting over the block and accepting it all as a timely life lesson. Perhaps I shouldn't try to do everything all of the time. Perhaps I should have taken vitamins, rested more, eaten more sensibly.
I wish I had.
I was raised in a particular way. We like to ignore these impediments. I broke my navicular bone, they missed the break on the x-ray, told me to walk on it ... and I did, till they found it.
A hospital once sent me home with a burning hot, bright red swollen knee. No accident to report in New Zealand, no treatment. See your GP.
He was enraged on my behalf. I had cellulitis. There was me, so embarassed by being sent home from the hospital, that I walked on it till he could see me. Six courses of antibiotics later ...
But anemia. You actually can't push through it. Or I can't. Every time I over-do it, I pay. It's like I can't cheat here. It's 4 months until the doctor retests my iron levels. Gert suggested this was because my level of iron deficiency was such that it would take that long. He thinks I should be patient.
I think I have to be.
To add to the misery of this, coffee and red wine interfere with iron uptake. I laughed as I wrote that. Can you believe it???
And I know it's minor but minor usually means I can find a way round it. I can't. I'm slowinggggggg right down, trying to accommodate this difficult guest.
However today a lovely client-to-be filled me with inspiration. I've been working here at the computer, plotting and planning, all day. Taking facebook breaks when breaks were required. Cleaning a little ... knowing fish and chips are booked in as that unhealthy but simple dinner tonight.
A good day after a series of epic days lately. The Belgian Bloke crashed into bed with 3 intense days of fever, he spent something like 53 out of 64 hours sleeping, and was only just on his feet when he returned to work after a week.
In fact so much goes on behind-the-scenes here that sometimes I'm tempted to share it all but it's always too whiny. And so ... let's see if I've turned a corner. The stairs to my office are noticeably easier ... small steps, Diane. Small steps.
I've been searching out photographs from years past, for a 5-day challenge on Facebook, and found this one. A favourite of mine.