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Go Home and Rest

It seems I've learnt somethings about life and myself in the last few weeks.  Despite all my denials,  I can still revert to being a wobbly jelly when it comes to my health.  I should trust myself more.

I knew a while back that something was wrong,  although I was determined to suppress the feelings of fear that I could be edging closer to that cliff.   When I did eventually go to the medical centre because of feeling shaky and having a lingering cough, I was asked why I hadn't gone before.   I guess the real reason was that I take enough from the NHS and I didn't want to waste anyone's time.  I should have gone before. 

My TTP levels are tested regularly,  and the knowledge that Adamts13 is high is reassuring.  I have said in the past that I shouldn't blame TTP for everything.  I knew that the way I felt wasn't OK, and yet I let it continue. 

I don't have any medical knowledge beyond my own experience.  It does seem though that Chest Infections can vary in severity.  This one, despite the antibiotics,  has been a real wake up call for me.  I had expected the antibiotics to have some immediate,  magic, effect.   That hasn't happened.  Yesterday,  for the first time, the word Pneumonia was mentioned.  Suddenly it makes more sense. Recovery, it seems, can take weeks, sometimes months even after antibiotics.  How come I didn't know that.

After my exertions at the weekend I've been shattered all week, again.  And we only did a short walk on flat ground.  Monday and Tuesday I was back in those early days when you need to sit down after taking a shower.  It brought back those memories of TTP Recovery and to some extent I panicked. 

Hanging washing on the line shouldn't hurt.  Sitting in a chair shouldn't make you breathless.  Standing in the kitchen shouldn't cause dizziness.   So I have another chest Xray in approx 6 weeks and recovery may be slow but should be steady.   Go home and rest.  To be honest, whereas in the past I would be climbing walls and getting frustrated,  now I just feel the tiniest bit guilty at letting those thoughts of relapse take over.  I am reassured that the way I feel is normal and that I'm not wasting anyone's time by getting help if symptoms start to slip backwards.

So here I am, at 6 am, sitting up in bed, writing my journal.   I've completed Wordle, Sedecordle and Waffle,  just to prove that my grey cells still work.  I've made a warm drink and I'm wide awake.  And I'm resting. 

No plans for today, beyond taking life at a pace I can manage.  



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