Those that have been following this blog, and/or my toots on Mastodon, will know all about the first three bits of the title of this post. These are things I’ve written about in the last 4 weeks. OK, I’ve written about them before that as well, but this p
Those that have been following this blog, and/or my toots on Mastodon, will know all about the first three bits of the title of this post. These are things I’ve written about in the last 4 weeks. OK, I’ve written about them before that as well, but this post focuses on the events of the last four weeks.
I added a fourth topic to the title, “self pity”. Because that’s something I’m struggling with now (as well), and as understandable as it may be, I also hate myself for feeling this way, for having these thoughts that just feel so selfish and arrogant to me. I don’t want to wallow in pity, but I just can’t stop feeling sorry for myself, for all that I had to “go through” / endure/experience during these last four weeks. 😔
Feelings of sadness, hopelessness, and unfairness about your life circumstances often characterize what we call self-pity. It’s an emotional state that usually involves dwelling on past hardships or present difficulties and feeling sorry for yourself.
While it is norma
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Those that have been following this blog, and/or my toots on Mastodon, will know all about the first three bits of the title of this post. These are things I’ve written about in the last 4 weeks. OK, I’ve written about them before that as well, but this post focuses on the events of the last four weeks.
I added a fourth topic to the title, “self pity”. Because that’s something I’m struggling with now (as well), and as understandable as it may be, I also hate myself for feeling this way, for having these thoughts that just feel so selfish and arrogant to me. I don’t want to wallow in pity, but I just can’t stop feeling sorry for myself, for all that I had to “go through” / endure/experience during these last four weeks. 😔
Feelings of sadness, hopelessness, and unfairness about your life circumstances often characterize what we call self-pity. It’s an emotional state that usually involves dwelling on past hardships or present difficulties and feeling sorry for yourself.
While it is normal to feel sad or upset about life’s challenges, self-pity becomes problematic when it becomes a persistent pattern of thinking that interferes with your ability to live a fulfilling life. The dangers of self-pity include a vicious cycle of negative thinking and behavior, feelings of guilt and shame, and feelings of isolation and loneliness.
For those of you who found my blog through this post for the first time, I’ll try to write a little “previously on Cynni’s Blog” bit here:
On June 13th I had a major hip surgery, where the cup of my prosthetic hip has been replaced with a new one, as the old one got loose. All went well until on June 30th, I had the misfortune of my hip dislocating from that cup, causing me to be in hell for several hours. It took over 5 hours before they could set the leg. And when I came to, they informed me I needed another surgery to repair the damage done. So on July 1st, I went into the OR again. I got home late afternoon on the 2nd and had two terrible nights where not only I struggled, but my dog Arwen struggled as well. During the second night, I realized that this would probably be her last night. And due to my surgery, I could not hold Arwen and comfort her, I could not be there for her as I wanted to be. That morning in July 4th, Arwen crossed the rainbow 🌈 bridge around 9:30. Mum and I were with her till the end. And that was definitely the worst week of my life. (Journal – Week 27, June/July 2025)
Since that week of horror and hell, I’ve been struggling with my emotions a lot. Most of the nights, I don’t get the best sleep. I keep crying over the loss of Arwen, and I keep being angry with myself, because the dark monster keeps trying to tell me that I let Arwen suffer for too long because I didn’t want to say goodbye to her. Those thoughts overwhelm me with guilt and anger towards myself, even though everyone keeps saying that I did right by Arwen. It just doesn’t feel that way, partially due to the dark monster (depression) telling me that I let Arwen suffer too long. It’s been four weeks since the surgery. I’m still very bruised and swollen, my wound is warm and painful, there is still a big deep hematoma under it, and it just hurts so much. I struggle being comfortable, I struggle getting some decent sleep. It’s been almost 7 weeks since the first surgery, which would have meant that I “should have been” ready now to start building up my strength and routine again. But nope, still several weeks to go now. And after the second surgery, my restrictions list was longer than before, as was the recovery time, which went from 6 weeks to 3 months. 😭
I cry several times a day and night. I feel exhausted and I struggle to find any motivation to keep going, as most of the time, it just feels so pointless. Everything hurts, I can’t get comfortable, I still have nightmares about the pain, trauma, and loss. There’s the dark monster, blaming me for not doing the right thing in time. And all that ads up to me feeling so damned sorry for myself. 😢
And earlier this week, I had a meltdown. Due to someone, who probably means we’ll, who keeps texting me every two days with two questions: any improvements and how are things now without your dog? In the beginning, I tried to reply. I explained again and again that the recovery would take a long time, longer than I liked, but that’s just how it is when you have surgery, then major trauma, and then surgery again in less than 3 weeks time. And again and again they expect me to be able to write that it’s all better now. Again and again I need to tell them that the improvements are slower than a snail heading up the Mount Everest… I wish I made more (quick) progress. I wish I had less pain. I really do! But… I keep needing to tell them that if sucks. And that question about how it is now, to live without Arwen… 😭 So when I got that “well meant” but painful text again, I just broke down…
I was so angry. I was so disappointed that I have to tell them, again and again, that I feel like shit. I am in much pain. I am missing my gall like crazy! I don’t need to be reminded every two days of how shit things are. I want to yell at them to leave me alone. That all these “well meant” texts are bringing me down so much! Who wants to be reminded every two days thy their best companion ever is gone?? Who wants to write the same disappointing “news” again and again? Here I am, fighting against depression, standing on the edge of darkness, and every two days, someone shoves me in the back to remind me how things still suck… 😢
So now, the self pity is even worse. Anger, disappointment, sadness, pain, exhaustion, grief… I just want to break free of it all. I had enough of being in this much pain. The first 2½ weeks after the first surgery, I felt a lot better, until the hip got loose… Since thy happened, I’ve been needing the max amount of pain meds just to be able to cope with getting through the day, let alone the night… 😔
I want to do better, believe me I do! I want to be able to need less pain meds. If love a good night’s sleep without too much pain again. I would love for the headache to leave me alone. For the tinnitus to get less loud again. For the bruises to stop glowing with warmth. Asking me every two days if there are any improvements, especially when I’ve been telling several times that it will take a long time… I just don’t know what to do with that… Like I’m not working hard enough because there is no real progress yet. Like I’m supposed to be able to make big jumps forward every two days and be healthy and healed within a record time! If only… It makes me wonder if they really read what I write, as they don’t seem to do anything with the info that I share. Like they’re putting me under pressure to perform this amazing job… And I’m failing big time!
I wish for things to improve… Believe me, no one wants it more than I do! But not making any big progress here… It’s dragging me down. 😔 I feel sorry for myself, I feel angry and sad and most of all, I feel tired of being in so much pain and feeling so exhausted because of it… I want improvements. I want to do better. I want to send out positive texts. But all I did earlier this week was… Get into a meltdown.
Cry, sob, curse, get an even worse headache. Let it all out, all the frustration and anger. All the disappointment and grief. I just had enough of it all and I would like it to end… But… That will take time… Time to grieve. Time to heal. Time to adjust. Just a whole lot of time. And tears, I guess… I don’t want to feel sorry for myself. But when I look back at the last few weeks… Yeah, I understand why I do feel this way though. Just wish for some improvement so that I don’t get stuck in the pity and drown myself in tears. I don’t want the dark monster to grab me too tight… Gotta keep fighting… Gotta stay strong…
To be continued..?
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The image features a person and a chocolate Labrador Retriever. The dog is positioned on the left side of the image, with its mouth open and tongue out, appearing happy and relaxed.
Monday started well, but it quickly took a very nasty turn and it ended up being a very painful disaster. Tuesday followed up on Monday’s bad intentions, and I got my emergency surgery. A major setback… Wednesday, things slowly became better. I was able to head home again. But I struggled immensely with a lingering fear of things going bad again…. I lost all my confidence, I got extra strict “living rules”, and mum came with me to help me back on track… But unfortunately, dislocating my hip and needing another surgery weren’t the worst bits of this week. On Friday morning, Arwen became too unhappy health wise. We took her to the vet, and they discovered a tumor on her heart. She passed away around 9:30 that morning. So the rest of the week, I tried to get by. But it was so damn hard. Arwen had been my life for so long, especially since the divorce. And now, I was really alone… I lost the best gall I ever had the honor to love…
This week, I won’t share any music… I just don’t have the spoons to find any songs that would be suitable… It’s just too much for one week to handle…
This week, we’re expecting all sorts of weather. Too hot for a few days… But then it should get better again for a while…
The day started rather well. Just the usual morning where I started with the scale, getting dressed, and then walking Arwen. We had our morning walkies, and it was already getting warmer. Today would be a hot day, so we were prepared for it the best way we could. I didn’t really feel like brekky, as I just wasn’t hungry.
Mum was coming a bit earlier, so she could hang the washing for me and help me with doing some hoovering and taking a shower. All went well, and I enjoyed feeling fresh again. But then, things were going to go from good to very bad in the blink of an eye!
I was trying to get dressed when I probably made a slight bad movement that caused my right inner muscle to cramp up. As it was the inner one, it pulled my right knee way too far to the left side. I yelled out in pain, and then there came a crack! And I cried out in pain even more. Mum helped me to lay on the bed and I was in agony. She gave me something that should help against the cramps, but after several minutes, the pain only seemed to be getting worse. So, she called the GP emergency line. And the GP was warned, and they would be coming our way.
I was in so much pain, and I had no idea what was happening to me. But when it’s been about 20 minutes and still no sign of the GP, mum called the hospital. Then, the GP came and the hospital called my mum back. I was getting two ambulances, so one got canceled quickly. And the ambulance came not much later. I was still in pain, and I was so scared.
They told me that my hip had dislocated, which I already feared had happened, and yeah, to the hospital we went. Being in the back of an ambulance with a dislocated hip is very painful. Every bend, every break, every pull up, every turn, every hobble… It all hurts like nothing else compared! We got to he hospital, and instead of knocking me out with sedation, I had to be in “certain positions” for an X-ray first. I yelled out some profanities (I did apologize but they understood it was the pain doing the yelling). Then, they decided they would set the leg. Or, try to, at least…
I got brought under, which was bliss after over 4 hours of crying out with a dislocated leg… And when I came to, the pain was a lot less. But, they weren’t all excited about a job well done… 😔 Apparently, a part of the hip cup came loose and that was still somewhere in my leg. Making my leg unstable and still a tad painful. So, I had to stay the night and get emergency surgery the next day (if the schedule allowed).
I got some decent meds and managed to sleep a bit during the night. But every time my leg moved, it “wobbled” and felt sore and painful. And I was scared. Another surgery. A big setback. The insecurity… I had a decent enough night, considering the circumstances, but yeah, anxiety was high and strong.
And when I woke up again the next day, I was so scared. I didn’t know what time the surgery could be, I wasn’t even sure that they’d be able to operate on me that day… So yeah, it wasn’t a good start to a fun day, that’s for sure…
Tuesday
I started my day in the hospital after a very scary and painful Monday. My hip had dislocated, they had tried to set it, but some part had come loose, making me need another surgery to fix the issues. I had an “OK enough” night, considering what had happened and what was still happening. They said that they’d try to get me in the OR schedule for that day, but they couldn’t give any certainty. So, I had to be sober and I had to wait…
People were all concerned and texting me loads. Which was very sweet but also it was hard to deal with. I was scared, I had no answers for them, I didn’t know what to expect… Around ten, they told me to get ready for the surgery. I was allowed to quickly text my mum and then we got ready to get me sorted to head to the ER. Tears started flowing, as I was just so damn scared… I felt so alone there, and I just needed to have faith. But after what happened the previous day, I kinda lost all faith that I had.
They started preparing me for the surgery. I didn’t have too many questions, as I’d just been through this about 3 weeks ago. When I told the anesthesia dude that this was my third hospital stay, and second surgery, within three weeks, he jokingly said “well, the third time in a month means that the queen will come to visit you”. I just laughed about it, thinking he was making a silly remark.
Then I got wheeled into the OR. They helped me on the table, did all the preps, and I could not wait for them to “take me out”. But this seemed to take a while, making me more anxious by the second. Then, I finally dozed off and their work could begin.
When I woke up, I wasn’t feeling too bad. My mouth hurt some, as did my throat, but that’s why you get some lovely water ice cream popsicles. They do help… After a while, I was “awake” enough to be brought back to the room. I really had to wee, so one of the first things they did for me was get the “mobile loo” next to my bed. (I know the Dutch word but I could not find a good translation to English…). I had used it before the OP, and this time, it went a lot easier.
My leg was stable again, and not that wobbly like before the OP. It felt stronger again. And when mum came, she told me the surgeon had told her that they made some changes. Apparently, the head of the hip was a little unstable, so they changed that, and they put in a new ring that had come loose. It should be more stable now. And, of course I want to believe them, but I was just too scared to really have faith in it.
The second time I needed to go to the loo, we used my crutches and a nurse hobbled along with me. And, it went rather well. I felt that it was good, but in the back of my head I was scared of things going bad again.
During the rest of the day, I dozed in and out of some sleep and being awake. Mum came again in the evening and she brought some ice, which was delicious for my sore throat and mouth. Just as mum wanted to leave, the surgeon came into the room to discuss the OP with me/us. She told me what she’d also told my mum when she called her after the surgery was done. That she was confident that this “new setup” should be better than the previous one. And, sure, I believe her! She helped me so much, on Monday and today. But, I kinda lost my trust in myself. I blamed myself for the fact that my leg had cramped up, and that it all went to hell from there…
When the surgeon left, mum got ready to leave as well. I tried to watch some series on my phone, but I dozed in and out of sleep. I got my meds and then went to sleep. And, considering the circumstances, I think I had a fairly decent night. Had to go out a few times for the loo (had to drink loads, so yeah, that needs to come out too). But the trips to the loo went well, and I managed to sleep some more after them.
Then I woke up when they brought the morning meds. I was awake in time for bestie to call me while she was heading to work… The new day, when the countdown was set to 0. I needed to start all over again. But I wasn’t sure what would be harder. Starting over or building confidence in me and my leg again. Because of that pain, I never want to experience that ever again!
Hump day / Wednesday
I had a fairly decent night at the hospital. Somehow, having a room to yourself does help a bit with getting some more sleep during the night. I had used my crutches to go to the loo a few times, and all went well. I knew I could do it, but still, a nagging fear had settled itself in the back of my mind. But all went well, and after several hours of sleep, I woke up again. I took my meds and then I grabbed my headphones, as bestie was gonna call me on the way to work.
While I was on the phone with her, a lady got brought in to the room, being prepped for her surgery. I got some breakfast after that, and all seemed to be going well enough. They had already taken some blood. And then I got the news I was being taken down for the check-up X-rays. All went well with those as well. So I was taken back to the room.
I was relaxing a bit with some music and my phone when the physio came. She was surprised to see me again. I explained to her what I had done and what had happened. She said that I could have triggered the cramps, but seeing the movement was so small, I could not have known that the effect would be so huge. I explained to her that my leg muscles are so strong, that there was nothing I could do, as I was just so unfortunate that they happened to pull my leg/knee so far inwards that it popped my leg… So, she gave me a folder, and things I was allowed to do… Got struck off the list. I have very strict guidelines now, for 3 months. She made a letter for my physio, so he knows the ins- and outs of it all.
After the physio had come and gone, they got word back that the X-rays and blood work were good, and that I should be able to go home after the doctor had visited me to discuss everything and to write the dismissal letter. So I called my mum to let her know of the plans.
I did ask mum if she would be OK with staying with me for a few days, until I got the helping accessories and will be able to use them. And until I feel more secure again. As said, I really lost my confidence and part of me is very scared of this happening again. Mum understood the fear and need for help, so she agreed to help me out.
The doctor had come and gone, and then I was waiting for the dismissal letter. Mum came, and she helped me to pack my stuff again. Then the nurse came with the letter. She discussed my changed meds with me, and then we could go pick them up at the hospital pharmacy before we could go home.
Unfortunately, it took about 45 minutes until we finally had the meds and were able to go. We went to my parents’ place. Mum packed all the things she needed. Then she got it all in the car, Arwen and me included, and we headed towards home.
I felt so lazy, not being able to help. I am not very good in needing help, I am better at offering it. So I really had to sit and just let mum do her things. Which she did very well. But still, I felt a bit guilty… Then we relaxed a bit, until it was time to eat something.
I had to take two powders to help me with my bowel movements. This was something I was gonna regret the rest of the evening and night. Mum had not seen Departure yet, so I started that for her. I could play a bit on my phone and watch along with half an eye. My tummy started to cramp in many ways, and I had to hobble to the loo occasionally. Some came out, but not much. Then, there wasn’t much in there, so yeah… After a while, mum let Arwen out for a pee and a poo. We watched some more telly. Then it was time to get ready for bed. Mum took Arwen out for a last wee. And then the hellish night began…
My tummy kept rumbling. Every time I almost fell asleep, my belly felt bloated and, to be on he safe side, I had to go to the loo again. I could not relax… My belly hurt, my right hand hurt loads (there was a nasty bruise where the IV had been in), and I was a bit scared. Maybe I was scared to fall asleep, scared that something would go wrong as soon as I lost the oversight. But I tried to sleep several times and my tummy kept me awake. I maybe slept half an hour at first, but then, nope…
So I got my tablet and tried to write some of the journal toots that I had been missing out on while I was in the hospital. I chatted a bit with some friends on Mastodon. And I mostly just tried to get through the night. Around 5:30, when I’d been to the loo again, Arwen indicated that she needed to go out, so I put on my pants and slippers, and we quickly went to the bushes. I fixed Arwen’s food after that, and then mum woke up, so the day began…
Thursday
What a night. I only slept for 45 minutes. I am tired. But I am so afraid that my leg will do a silly thing again. So afraid that it will go wrong again. I listened to Arwen snoring, and she was a bit uneasy as well. But I thought that it was because she noticed my anxiety. Because I am writing this journal bit a few days later, I now know better… 😢 But I spent the night watching telly, writing some for my blog, trying to get through the hours.
When mum got up and had her brekky, we walked Arwen a bit. But Arwen wasn’t her usual happy self. We just thought it was because of the weather, and all the stress with me earlier that week. So we only walked a short bit and she did her things. Then mum went to Germany and Arnhem for some groceries and an appointment and Arwen and I stayed home together.
I tried to relax, but I felt so much anxiety in me. I was so scared. And Arwen not being her usual self worried me as well. We went out for very short breaks so that she could wee and poop. I wished I could cuddle her, but I wasn’t allowed to bend that much.
So Arwen and I just took it easy, both feeling tired and uneasy. When mum got back home, she also noticed that Arwen wasn’t her usual self. We made some food, walked a very short round with Arwen, and watched some telly.
I was hoping that I could get a better night, as I was so very tired and worried about my leg and Arwen. But when mum went upstairs and I tried to sleep, I only managed to get 2x 40 minutes in. Things were going worse with Arwen… 😢
Friday
I had the worst night. Last night I barely slept 45 minutes, this night I got about 2x 40 minutes in. But, I was anxious over my leg and over Arwen. She could not find any rest. She was so uneasy and she looked so sad. I felt like this was the end, she was asking permission to give up. But, she knew that I needed her, so she didn’t want to leave my side. She was such a loyal gall… So I cried most of the night. And when mum got up, we first called the GP for some sleeping meds for me. Then, the vet opened their phone lines and we called them. We got an appointment for 11. But almost immediately, they called us back to come at 9. So we tried to get Arwen into the car… Fearing this would be her last car ride…
They took Arwen aside and found out she had a high fever. She got a heart scan, and they found a tumor attached to her heart. I was right, she was suffering terribly. So, I gave the OK for them to help Arwen end her life. I had always promised her that I would never let her suffer, and I had to keep that promise. Because I could not bend over, they put her on a table, so I could be with her while she was getting the sleeping meds. I held her and kissed her and then gave the OK for the euthanasia meds to be added. She had given all she had and now it was time for her to be free again. No more pain, no more discomforts… Making this decision was so easy, as I knew it was right for her, I owed her this. But of course I was crying my eyes out and, in a way, feeling sorry for myself for having the worst week ever.
After one last kiss on her sweet head, we headed back and made arrangements for her cremation. I filled out the form and they would contact me about the wishes for her cremation. We got home and it felt so empty already. I knew I had done the right thing, she was suffering so much and she would not have made it on her own for much longer. But I was being selfish, thinking she left me when I needed her the most. And that made me feel even more bad about the whole situation.
Mum put Arwen’s big bed in my bedroom. I had been busy texting everyone the saddest news… I was exhausted and felt so bad. Then, the phone rang, and it was the GP. We were too late with answering, so we tried to call back. But the assistant could not get the GP. A minute later, the GP called again. We discussed the whole situation, now adding the very recent passing of my bestest friend. The GP prescribed me some sleeping pills that would be delivered later that day.
When I went to the loo, my phone rang again. It was the pet crematorium. They discussed my wishes with mum and me. She was very kind, but damn, this was hard. Then mum and I went to their website and we checked all the urns. We both pointed to the same one at the same time, so we knew that this would be the one for Arwen. I ordered and paid it. But I had forgotten to ask about some ashes to be separated, so I could use that for an ash pendant. So, I had to call the lady back. She was very understanding and explained everything and wrote down my wishes. Arwen would be cremated on Tuesday and then they would bring her remains back to the vet.
But, the costs were higher than what I had thought, so I had to ask people to help me again. I just wanted to get Arwen home… Sweet friends helped me, my parents helped me, and people on Mastodon started helping me (again). Asking help to get Arwen home again was very hard, as I felt like I should be able to take care of this on my own.
Then, someone knocked on the door. It was my neighbor from two doors down. She brought me a beautiful rose and together, we cried over the loss of this sweet gall.
I had to eat something, so I got a yogurt. And when I finished, the first thing I did was hold it down and look for Arwen so she could clean the cup. Damn, that hurt like hell! I tried to distract myself by watching telly. But, all those sweet people telling me how sorry they were for my loss… Seeing her picture everywhere and not being able to cuddle her again. I cried a lot.
And that night, mum gave me a sleeping pill. I was afraid to take it, as I didn’t know what my leg would do if I were too fast asleep. But I needed the sleep, I needed the calm in my head for a while… So I took it and then, after a short while, I dozed off.
I slept in one go from 22-5:20. And then, I woke up with wet cheeks and eyes. And bam, it hit me, she was really gone… It wasn’t just a bad dream… 😭
Saturday
I slept because of the sleeping pill. I had some rest. But, as soon as I woke up, I felt my eyes and cheeks being moist. And then I realized that it hadn’t just been a bad dream. She was really gone. I was really alone now. OK, mum was sleeping upstairs. But my loyal gall, my bestest friend for almost 12 years, she had left my side. Not because she wanted to, but because she had to. I felt so drowsy and sad.
Mum got up and she had breakfast. I just wasn’t hungry at all, I was so overwhelmed with grief. When mum had finished her brekky, we went to Nijmegen for some groceries. It was good to be out for a while. I tried to hug Bas when we got to my parents house. He didn’t understand it. Where was his friend? Why wasn’t she with us?
It made me sad again. It was still so raw and fresh… When mum was ready, we headed back to Herpen again. As I didn’t have anything to eat yet, and mum told me I needed to eat, I made myself a pizza. My mouth was finally healing up… The meds that I got from the hospital, they had given me some nasty side effects, I had sores in my mouth and they were so painful and they messed up my taste as well. We had quit the meds, but of course the sores needed time to heal.
After the food, I tried to relax a bit on the bed with some telly. I dozed a bit at times, the after effects from the previous nights and the sleeping pill.
I felt useless and lonely and I needed some fresh air. So, mum and I went out for a little walk. The first doggy walk round without the dog. The fresh air felt good, and it felt good to move around a bit. But it was hard. I was glad that we didn’t meet any of the neighbors, so there were no questions about Arwen.
When we got back, I tried to relax again on the bed. Mum and I watched some telly and I sometimes just sobbed away when something happened that made me miss Arwen again.
Mum and I discussed taking another sleeping pill, and she thought it would be best for me, as it would calm my head for a while as well. So, I took one again and just hoped it would all go well during the night.
This time, I woke up twice during the night for the loo. But I did manage some more sleep. Still, waking up all alone is a very hard thing to do…
Happy Sundog / Sunday
The second night with a sleeping pill had a slightly different effect on me. I woke up a few times during the night, my body was feeling a tad sore and I had to wee a few times. Every time when I woke up, I cried a little, because every time I realized she was really gone. When I woke up again around 5:30, my back was very sore, but I was still so drowsy. I put the bed in a higher “seating” position, and turned on the telly. I dozed on and off, until mum came down.
When she had her breakfast, we got ready to walk to the supermarket. Last I had seen, some roads had been closed. And it would be good for me to be out for a while. So we slowly walked to the store. We were a little early, but there was a bench across the street. We waited on it until the store opened it’s doors. We only needed a few things, so we didn’t take too long. Then, we hobbled back home again.
Both mum and I were tired when we got back, so she went to her puzzles and I got to bed with some telly. I missed parts of the episodes, as I kept dozing off from time to time. I just felt so drained and exhausted. Halfway through the afternoon, I made the food for mum and me. We enjoyed it while watching telly together.
We had finished the 3 seasons of Departure, and we had started The Discovery of Witches. This night, I would try to sleep without the pills. I didn’t want to become too dependent on them. Plus, the drowsy side effects were not that easy to deal with either. So we watched some telly until I felt like I had to try and get comfortable in a way, so that I could sleep.
I did fall asleep and I woke up a few times, as my back was not pleased with me. So I tried to get the bed into different positions. Around 5, I had to get up because I was so sore. I moved the bed into a more seating position and then I watched some telly while dozing some more.
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AI alt text: A heartfelt memorial image of a chocolate Labrador Retriever named Arwen. The dog is captured in a close-up photograph while lying on the grass, looking directly at the camera with a joyful expression, tongue slightly out, and eyes glis…
This week, we’re expecting all sorts of weather. Too hot for a few days… But then it should get better again for a while…
Monday
Tuesday
Hump day / Wednesday
Thursday
Friday
Saturday
Happy Sundog / Sunday
