Friday, 27 March 2009

Drop to the floor and give me twenty...


...my dropping to the floor is less about exercise, more (completely) about breathing through the kick I just got in my back and lower right abdomen. LRA. That's easier. I'm lazy. "Meh" to it. I'm apparently mildly anaemic which may or may not explain his immense tiredness I have felt every day since Thursday 8th January of this year, 2009. That's only when I invited Mirena to stay, so the effects may have been present before then. I can't remember.


(Random: David Tennant is on television. The Deputy is on Watch. Ohh golly. Geeky. But ohh golly. Very good to look at. And to listen to.)


It's been a long time since I felt reasonable. Even in the seemingly long-gone days of periods, I had a few days between both kinds of bleeding when I felt "all right", able to have a driving lesson, walk up the road to the charity shop (it's a really good charity shop). Or to Lidl. I really rate Lidl. Their customer count has just gone up by 4, I'm certain of it... And again, this isn't a moaning "oh poor me" post, it's a "bugger me, hormones are shit" post. I don't do victim. Like I don't do revenge. I don't see the point. Too much effort and time is invested in such tomfoolery. Bah. No humbug. Look after yer teef, etc.... didn't Pam Ayers say that?

But yes, slumping to the floor and leaning against cupboards or a wall (or dishwasher, depending where I am in the house) while heavy breathing and grunting my way through the pseudo kick-in-the-back-and/or-gut-area isn't the most attractive of apearances. But I know D will love it. Mmm English Rose it certainly isn't.
This strange up-down movement most often occurs after I rise from sitting. Up, down... still down. Attempt to get up... no, still there... sort of reminds me of a song that was sung at my (old) infants' school. "Bobbing up and down like this..." The only real difference is that I'm not sailing the ocean. I'd probably be seasick. I'm nauseous enough with Mirena, I don't want any seafaring lark to assist in that area.

Nausea doesn't stay all the time; it has some decency to leave me alone for a while. However, with all this codeine and for all its really rather good pain-relieving properties, it also blocks the bowels. This is not good. This, too, causes nausea. I haven't quite mastered the important skill of judging the amount of prunes to eat to counteract the effects of each dose of the 10/500mg co-dydramol. (Ponstan seems to be fine, in that respect. Only annoying thing with both types of medication is that you have to eat with them. The time I least feel like eating, when I feel most sick is when I have to shove down some biscuits or notShreddies. Meh.) I do actually really like prunes. A lot. I have to consciously stop myself from eating more. They do help "relieve", no doubt.
But they have their own undesirable efffects: wind and bloating. Not good. Especially when it's 2:30am and you're still waiting for the last lot of co-dydramol to kick in. A lot of kicking going on...

Good job I'm a girl who likes her cushions - I have many more than I need, obviously. Plus, a body pillow and a spare "normal" pillow, to support me and give me something to lean on when in bed. I always seem to end up in the recovery position, the only vaguely comfortable way to lay, to try to lessen the pressure of bits of gut on my womb. Or whatever. "Spread yer legs, love".

The draft of this post was written on paper, while sitting on my warm/hot bed. I have an electric blanket (my bedroom gets shockingly cold, bed more so in these harsh countryside-ish Winters) which my wonderful (and very sadly late) Nan bought me. It's never been more apreciated than now, I don't think. It's so good, it's like an all over hot water bottle. And I LOVE my hot water bottle...

No comments:

Post a comment

Talk to me. Caaam aaahhhnn...