Automated Attack Monkeys, Scalpel Mines, & Acid

- In the last two weeks I have left the house exactly five times:

1. To go obtain sick note and then take it in to work, which took me three days to recover from.
2. To go to Ninja Games to obtain boredom-busters, which took me two days to recover from.
3. To go to Tesco to obtain food so that I do not starve, which took me a day to recover from.
4. To go to the tattoo parlour and see Bob about sorting out his web presence, which took me a day to recover from.
5. To go to the National Media Museum to interview Tony for mygoditsthebaggageman, which took two and a half hours (not including travel) on Friday and from which I am just about recovered now. I slept 17 hours Friday night.

From this it can be seen that my recovery time from doing any sort of activity at all is getting less, but is still nothing like normal.

- matgb and magister have both been utterly amazing. The have both looked after me fabulously well - getting me dressed, helping me in and out of the bath and up and down stairs, getting me food and drink, walking the dogs for me - all the things which normally I would do without blinking, but which now require herculean effort. Our little household has been cramped but happy for most of that time, and it's 99% due to the efforts of my boys, and I love them both very much, particularly because they have both put up with my frustration and annoyance at my inability to perform simple tasks so well. I am now routinely referred to as lazyarse. magister has had to go back to Merseyside today, and things are going to be harder on matgb now he is sole carer, and hasn't got James to tag team with, so please be gentle with him, he may get grumpy. And I have to wait till my birthday to see James again. Woe :(

- I haven't heard back about housing benefit yet. This is irritating. I don't like messing my landlord about because he's an absolute sweetheart, and that's a rare thing in a landlord. I also haven't heard back about sick pay, which is unfortunate...

- Mum and Dad come back from their holidays tomorrow. This should take a bit of the pressure off Mat because he can always offload me onto them if I start driving him really insane.

- The three small keyhole surgery wounds are pretty much gone now, and the gret big one that was made after they realised keyhole wasn't going to wash is looking ok. Because she sewed it up from the inside, and because of the positioning of it, I don't think it's going to be very noticeable. The pain is barely there when I am sitting still now, and only flares up if I move at all. I still feel ten times better than I did before the surgery. So softly had gideon crept up on me that I hadn't realised what a profound effect he was having.

Anyway, yes, this post can basically be summed up as: Jennie is feeling shit, but better than she was, and getting better all the time, which is good. How are you lot?

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My belly has gone all sorts of interesting colours.
I have lost my belly button piercing because one of the keyholes has gone right through where the fistula was.
Having a bath is AMAZING, even though it's difficult to get in and out.
In fact, movement of any kind is difficult. You don't realise how much you take your capabilities for granted until you don't have them any more.

Anyway: task for today is to obtain sick note from doctor and take it in to work so that I can have SSP, which is a MASSIVE £79.15 a week. My friend Ted is coming to pick me up soon and I shall go on this adventure. magister is coming with me to aid in the walking and things. It should be fun...

Oh yes, and the descision is made. The most quintessentially English thing is Brian Blessed in cricket whites singing the Doctor Who theme at the Last Night of the Proms, broadcast on radio 4.

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Have been off work sick yesterday and today. This is not good.

Saw the consultant yesterday; Gideon is a fibroid. He needs to be taken out, and I've been booked in for February (three months away FFS!), with the proviso that I can go in earlier if the surgeon gets a cancellation. My GP has given me some super extra strength painkillers to keep me going. I feel very down about the whole boiling.

Podcast is all recorded, but there have been some hiccups with the editing. I may put up a rough cut, just to get episode one out there.

Holly is having The Hobbit for her bedtime story and I got so into it that I was reading to her for three quarters of an hour tonight. She's loving it. She managed to wangle herself onto a school trip that we had no idea was happening today too, the little so and so...

Blogging mojo is all out of kilter.

All the above, though? None of that is why I am not going to help out in Old and Sad. If we lose the by election, the party will be wounded. The media will whap us with it. But if we win, with that candidate? I can only see damage resulting from that too. So I'm hiding under the duvet as far as Old and Sad is concerned. For more information, Andrew Hickey has written a post which is full of the conflict I feel.

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Got a phone call from the hospital earlier today. They have an appointment slot tomorrow afternoon - must have been a cancellation to be that fast, I reckon - so I am going to go see the specialist at about 2.30 tomorrow.

Speculation is rife. My mum had fibroids at about my age - well, she'd had them for ages, but was diagnosed at my age - and has told me all about how awful they are. I have had messages from people telling me a bout other stuff too. Apparently the most likely option for a person my age is an ovarian cyst.

Whatever Gideon is, I hope I will know tomorrow, and I hope that it's easily dealt with. It's been sat there aching dully all day and it's getting old. The only thing that seems to relive it is being in water, which means that Holly and I spent two and a half hours at the swimming pool this afternoon. She was proudly showing me how she could swim underwater, and making me pretend to be a water zombie and chase her for her brains.

More news as I get it.

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