Well, this morning I seem to be bleeding less. A lot less.
I should be jumping... if not for joy then for the not so distant promise of not having another D&C. But I'm not. I don't think I trust my body any more. I stopped bleeding a week after we lost George and a week and a day after we lost George I was being wheeled down to surgery. The bleeding had slowed down, until a week and a day ago it started getting heavier. No, I don't trust my body any more.
Wiped out, knackered, done in, pooped.
A lot of it is physical, because of the anemia I think. All this bleeding can't have helped my blood count but then again, frequently forgetting to take my second iron pill of the day can't be helping either. I have no breath for hills (we live on a hill) and my legs ache so much after the least exercise.
I don't even need to mention the emotional exhaustion...
I feel bleak.
But I laugh with Ray. It's confusing. One minute the world is crushing me and the next I'm giggling like a teenager.
Oh I love him so much, he got so upset yesterday with the them that haven't fixed my insides properly yet that he didn't know what to do with himself. A strange thing happens to me when he cries, no matter how distressed I am, I stop and start comforting him. He stops and starts comforting me. Ah we work well together. He once told me he hadn't cried since his dad died when he was 16. He's re-learning the art of crying now.
We miss our George.
Today I'm ..... confused.