The month got off to a shitty start, and had a mediocre middle and a shitty ending. On the 1st March I went for my immunosuppressive infusion. I spent six hours in a hospital chair, plus the 2 hour round trip in the car, got home exhausted then had to take Leona out so that Dave could do some work. He had been working so much those weeks (in spite of my constant protests!) and that day was my breaking point. That afternoon I cried and pleaded and we talked it all over, eventually deciding that he would keep his work commitments to 25 hours per week. That week he finished work on Wednesday night and we had a much-needed four-day weekend. We went to the beach, we relaxed, we planted some trees and I did some batch cooking. Then everything seemed more manageable.

We spent a few weeks enjoying our new routine of Dave working in the morning, having lunch together then Dave spending the afternoons with Leona whilst I did all my meditation, cold showers, and household chores. It worked really well and I was feeling great.

Then Dave started to get stomach aches so bad that he couldn’t help with Leona or go on the evening walk. I was picking up all the slack thinking it was for a few days. We thought it was the new diet – the one that was finally making me better was making Dave sick! But he ate less and less for a few days and still had terrible pain, eventually forcing him to the doctor. He found out he had appendicitis and had an appendectomy that same night, coming home two days later to recuperate at home. I was getting more and more exhausted by the day and starting to behave in ways I didn’t like – getting short-tempered, irritable and mean.

Then my Mum decided to come out and help. She got all her paperwork together, took a covid test and travelled to London for the flight. We were so excited that we would be able to see each other and get things back on track, but was denied boarding. So we are all feeling tired and sad.

Dave is healing well and helping out more around the house, so hopefully I will be able to recover enough by the time he goes back to work. It just feels like we can’t catch a break at the moment. I’m so tired of working to pick myself up again.

-Anna