After the two days of terminal nausea, I've just been tired. Flattened. Steam-rollered. Crevée. (Means flattened in French and, for some reason that I cannot fathom, is a Bad Word.) Mostly, after I've managed to get dressed, I lie on the sofa and read. And sleep.
Two days ago, I wondered why I've been using Fungizone as a mouthwash every night (and then, according to instructions, swallowing it), so I stopped. Yesterday, mouth ulcers returned.
I'm getting something for my white blood cells, maybe next month I should ask for something for my red cells.
And I asked about jogging! Ha ha ha!
At least if I'm telling you I feel rotten, you should believe me when I tell you I don't.
Apologies to all I owe e-mails.
