Back to work — I survived!!!

I made it all the way through the day, I did! Very proud — touch and go, though. It wasn’t a guarantee.

My day began with dry heaving, the type of dry heaving that’s actually you being sick but nothing’s coming up. An hour of it — I ate toast to give myself something to hurl but I’m no good at throwing and so in my stomach it stayed. I popped Stemetil and drank water, that came back up. I’m no fan of the cold going the wrong way. I even managed to get dressed — I looked a fright all day but you can’t do much with your head in a toilet.

To work I eventually headed and the train journey didn’t do me additional harm. The walk to work took longer than usual because I couldn’t walk in a straight line — ashen faced, weaving, a little clammy and bedraggled, I must’ve looked like a drunk. But I’m no drunk, I’ve an inner ear issue. Either Ménière’s or Labyrinthitis, the doctors don’t know. Personally, if I get to choose, I prefer Ménière’s because it sounds classy and I can pronounce it.

Anyway, so I get to work and my first stop is the bog — it’s dry heave time, yay! Good pastime. Every 20 minutes or so, back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. I did consider going home but I didn’t. I ignored myself, just didn’t say the words.

And then lunch happened. I ate half a tuna roll, lost it, and felt much better — not great but better. I managed a whole hour without heaving and it was great!

Work & all this

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, Portsmouth Water shoots The Southern Co-operative Funeralcare right in the face when it comes to care. They shoot so well that they continue to astound me on their thoughtfulness.

It’s the little things. It’s like how Laura, my team leader, sat me down to find out how I was, caught me up on all the goss, and came over frequently to check that I was still alright. She must’ve noticed my frequent trips to the loo because her desk is en route.

It’s like how Becca, trainer, and Laura had worked through my diary entries and did what had to be done. I don’t know how many I had, I seem to collect them, but when I looked I only had 3 left outstanding. And my e-mails, they sifted through them to weed out the chaff.

It’s like how Sarah, my lunch buddy, talked talked talked to get my mind off things — she was instrumental in my staying, although I was doing pretty well ignoring myself.

It’s like how people empathised, how the office said “Hi” and made conversation; didn’t make out that my not being there for 4 weeks was an irritant.

Had I been at the Co-op I would’ve had none of that. Nope. I’d have had to walk on eggshells.

Tonight

I agreed with myself last night that if I made it through the whole of today then I could order an Indian takeaway, and if I didn’t then I couldn’t have it. Rice, chips, tikka masala sauce, and popadoms. Mmm, I’ve been wanting it for weeks.

Because I made it through the whole day, YAY! I had my takeaway. They gave me korma sauce, but I didn’t mind.

I’m sat here now feeling reasonable, why couldn’t I be this reasonable all day? That said, I haven’t moved in a while.

Tomos James