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Saturday 18th March 2023


I tried to convince myself that I was now better by bouldering onwards and hoping for the best, but in truth this was almost certainly a mistake and I was back to square 3 by the end of play. I was meant to be taking Phoebe to St Albans for a football match, but seconds before we went out the door, at text came through saying it was cancelled. So I took my disappointed daughter up to the rec for a kick around. It was drizzling and muddy and it was only when I tried to run that I realised I wasn’t yet up for this. The rain got harder and I thought that I’d probably made a dumb mistake. Plus I lost 5-3. Yes I still managed three. You have to try your best.
We went home, but had to drive to the shops to pick up some presents for a birthday party that Phoebe was going to this afternoon. Again, this was probably a bit too active for someone in my fragile state, but I was holding on for now. We bought presents and a suitcase (for me for our upcoming holiday - we’re not giving that to an 8 year old for their birthday [though Phoebe and Ernie really wanted one too so maybe it would be a good, if expensive gift]) and then we whisked round the supermarket buying stuff for Mother’s Day lunch.
Then we went home, before I then I had to take Phoebe to her party, drop Catie at the train station as she was going into town for another party and then look after Ernie. After his Marathon session of asking to go to Macdonald’s last week, I decided to treat him to a horrible Happy Meal. It made him vaguely happy, I guess. But not as happy as his hour of complaining and crying last week would have made you think he’d be. In truth I think he just likes the screens that you order your food from. He ate some of the food. Not sure it was worth the effort. Nice to have some time alone with this ball of energy, even if I was feeling less and less energetic.
We looked at books and then toys and I bought him a backpack
 Finally we picked up Phoebe from the party and I got them home and fed and eventually to bed. Phoebe had been watching a Netflix show that combines engineering and cookery and wanted to have a go at making chocolate glue out of melted gummy bears, marshmallow and chocolate. We then stuck biscuits together with this microwaved napalm and then ate them. They were disgusting. Like eating cement made of sugar. 
I managed to get them to bed OK, though Phoebe stayed up for a little bit watching Ghosts US with me. Luckily most of the sex jokes are artfully written so a child won’t understand them. 
Once again I felt like I’d been run over by a truck by bed time. This has been a tough four fucking weeks. And I worry that I will never be well again. I think I am wrong to worry that. It just feels like it. Whatever this is is officially worse than Covid and testicular cancer.

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