Oh this is hard. It’s 3am, Jon’s away, the rest of the world is asleep, including the dog who is less than impressed at my coughing up a lung every ten seconds, and I feel horrible. To top it off, the only doctors appointment I can get for tomorrow is when I should be supporting a training session at work, and knowing the lecture I’m going to get from my doctor about looking after myself, I’m fairly certain I’m going to have to end up cancelling my own training sessions for the rest of the week. Which I then of course feel guilty about because it inconveniences everyone, despite the fact that realistically I know that no one needs to be stuck in a room with me for 3 days this week, while I cough up the aforementioned lung.
Ugh, just horribly overwhelmed and in need of a hug. Where’s my damn husband when I need him?! (the answer to that is in a field in Dartmoor somewhere with absolutely zero phone signal.) I can only do independent for so long, and I categorically can’t do independent and ill. Hmph.
So I shall continue to annoy the dog, drink some medicinal chocolate milk, down half a bottle of cough syrup, and try not to have too much of a cry because it makes me bloody keel over coughing.
Feel free to send kind thoughts and gentle pats on the head. Thanks.
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