I've been getting increasingly weary over recent times. Although my last admission is something like an amazing 8 weeks ago, I don't feel as though I ever really got my energy back. This has been something of a concern for my consultant as I'm so used to severe asthma attacks, and know my own recovery process well. This doesn't fit with the usual pattern of things, and together with a series of other symptoms he's now wondering if I have hypothyroidism. He's taken blood (well actually he had the phlebotomist do it), and I'm due back in clinic on Thursday so I may get the results then.
So there's been that, and whether or not it turns out to be hypothyroidism, I've been so fatigued at times that I've been completely unable to function. Then there's the usual grumbling of my lungs, and in the past few weeks they've been feeling tighter than they had done. I don't know if this is just because they're bored and want some more attention, or if it's a result of coming off the methotrexate and my blood levels of it will now be significantly lower than they were. It could be a combination of both. It's harder work doing everything when breathing is more challenging.
In amongst all of this, I'm trying to keep up with my Open University studies too. I'm doing okay; not as great as I was in the previous course, but still pretty well. I enjoy it tremendously, it's just difficult to keep on top of it when I'm so fatigued, not feeling brilliantly well with my lungs, and trying to spend more time with my dad (he's ill), which as well as being really nice, also gives my step-mum a bit of a break.
... And then of course there's Emma's death ...
I've come down to London for a few days to stay with my brother, sister-in-law and two nephews. O is as gorgeous as ever and his language has come on so much since I last saw him in August. He chatters away constantly, and is such a happy little chap. He's an absolute delight. D (the nipper) was born in September, and I missed the last time I was supposed to come and meet him, because everyone here was full of cold and it would've been too risky for me to be surrounded by that. I have finally got to meet my littlest nephew (and also god son-to-be), and he's absolutely scrummy. He's been a bit grouchy at times today, but he's so gorgeous and gives such lovely smiles when he wants to.
For all that children are hard work, which isn't terribly wonderful when I'm so fatigued, the boys are restoring my soul. They're injecting a bit of life back into me. I know that I would have been thinking an awful lot about Emma anyway, but O and D seemed to have heightened something in me even more ... maybe it's that they're at the complete opposite end of life ... I don't know. This hasn't been a bad thing though ... it's more of a reminder to do everything I can to make the most of each day. I can't really explain ... All the upset and sadness of Emma's death are still here, my heart still cries for her, but the boys are so joyful and seem to kind of remind me of the love of life that Emma had.
I'm going back home on Tuesday, but between now and then I'm loving the restorative qualities that O and D are full of. I'll bask in their cuddles and smiles and giggles, and store up their joyfulness inside myself. I'll take home lovely memories, and hopefully be able to draw some physical strength from the spirit of those memories.