I’ve been sick. The Twittersphere might have been aware of this, as 140 characters was all I was capable of doing yesterday. I thought it was a kidney infection but now realise (due to the inflammation of my left leg, high temperature-103.1!!) that it was another bout of cellulitis. At least I know that that is wearing off quickly, so I plastered myself with savlon, and took paracetomols to control the temperature. And this morning I had sweated it out, thank goodness. Yes, I could probably get anti-biotics for this, but by the time I’d made an appointment, the bout would be over—plus I don’t agree with taking AB’s willy-nilly. I’d rather keep ‘em for something really serious.
Of course I feel like a damp dishrag today, but at least it’s over. I couldn’t make Dad’s yesterday. I did try, even got dressed but then realised that it was a mad idea. I worry about him in that respect, because 2 years ago—when I was in hospital—he was capable of going around to Sainsbury’s and getting himself a hot chicken or a ready meal and cooking it in the microwave, but he’s not capable of even warming anything up now. On the days I’m not here, I make him cottage pies or curries and he just eats them cold. sigh.
Anyway. Writing today, no matter how crap I feel. I’m on chapter two of the new book which is encouraging.© Copyright 2012 Erastes, All rights Reserved. Written For: Erastes