OK, yes, so I was (am) menstruating, and regular readers will know that for me this is less of a natural, normal process showing how my body is healthy and in tune and obeying the rhythms of life and more of a farrkin’ ELL who set this nail bomb off in my pelvis?
However, this time it was going quite well. For me. I took enough painkillers early enough, and so, OK, I was crampy most of Thursday, but I was functional, and OK, so I really started bleeding and hurting on Friday, and yes, it really hurt, but it didn’t hurt as much as I alas know it can hurt. (For example, on a really bad day, it hurts so much I can’t speak coherently, I can’t stand up straight, I can’t stand at all for long before I feel dizzy, and I puke a lot. I spend hours on end lying face down on the bed, groaning and whimpering at intervals, not because I want to, but because I really, genuinely, can’t do anything else).
This time, I was sore, and had to lie down a lot, as standing made the cramps worse, and I was grouchy as hell and bitched non-stop from the moment I woke up to the moment H left for work and I had no-one to bitch at, but I did not puke or go all incoherent and sheet-white in the face. And I did not lie down on the living-room carpet because the bedroom was just too far to crawl to. Saturday was even better, in that there were hours of infuriating constant cramp and ache that made it hard to concentrate on anything much, but I managed to eat a little something, read, and bitch at H all over again. Sunday, I felt great. I woke up in no pain at all. I read books. I had a shower. This was fabulous. I… forgot to keep taking the painkillers. What? I felt fine, didn’t I? Why would I need to keep taking these, after all, worryingly strong painkillers if I felt fine?
So, obviously, by mid-afternoon I felt like shit again, degenerating through bitching at H, to lying down, to lying down with whimpers and nausea.
Aaaaand back on the painkillers.
I think they must lower my IQ by about 90 points.