Its’ that time again.

Every four weeks on the dot. Like groundhog day. Back at hospital for my treatment. An hour and a half linked up to an IV. The first 15 minutes isn’t bad, then I get the overwhelming fatigue hit me, like a curtain pulled over me. Then the headache starts.

Today was a little different as I had nobody to ‘cheuffer’ me to my appointment, so I had to drive myself, no spaces in the tiny car park meant I had to park a good distance away. I spent the majority of the time linked up to the drip worrying about how I was going to walk back to where I had parked the car, let alone driving back home. But as the fresh air hit me on the way out of the hospital, I felt a little better. Like when you would come out of a pub and the air would sober you up a little. Except I wasn’t drunk. Walking at the pace of a sloth, I made it back eventually.

I see these days as memory dates, linking everything back to how far away or close to my infusion dates it has been for a specific event or feeling. But they are also a fresh start. After my infusion I get a few days of energy, followed quickly by the return of cement filled legs, tiredness like I havent slept in months and brain fog like I am a brain trauma patient. For today, and the next 3 days I am just me.

There is no point in this entry other than the theraputic feeling of typing, and emptying my brain.

I have also, for the first time in 5 years, been contemplating that I am missing companionship/relationship. But also worried that I can’t realistically seek that out as I barely have enough in me to care for my child (the youngest, who still needs me), let alone give/waste energy on someone who has yet to earn my limited attention. So it seems unfair to even look. A pen pal perhaps would work better. But you can’t get a satisfactory cuddle from a pen. Im 34 years old. Yet I feel in most ways like I am a 60+ year old widow. Always old before my years.