88. Over done it again!

When will I learn??? 🤔🫣 Never, most likely! Today I can't hardly move my arms and hands after spending yesterday tidying the wardrobe room. Since we moved here, our collection of ikea wardrobes started off scattered round the bedrooms for the first few months, and in an enormous push for organised and tidy about 5 months in, I managed to get Paul to move them all into one room and created a walk in wardrobe room in the front bedroom with an en suite, which also is at the front of the house so is the noisiest and un likely to be a good bedroom to sleep in. But it never really worked. Although my vast clothes bags and shoes collection did sort of cram in there, it never was as organised and 'show home' looking as in our last house, and even with multiple radical culls of clothes, shoes and coats over the months, it still looked messy. Last week I took the decision to buy an additional matching wardrobe from ikea which arrived on Friday, and Paul put it together in the space of 45 mins so I had a major re organise project on my hands. I was meant to tackle it over the course of the next week, I can hear my own voice in my head saying ' yes mandi is going to pace herself, and do a bit everyday, and over the week work her way through the whole room and not hurt or tire herself in the process' 😂😂😂😂 Yes, of course that's exactly how it went 😶 No, in true Boadicea fashion, I got up yesterday morning and ploughed through the whole room, ignoring snapping muscles, and clicking shoulders, high on pain killers and enthusiasm, only stopping for food for 30 mins, and finally ended up dragging the last dustbin sack of charity shop offerings onto the landing at nearly 9 pm last night before I collapsed in the bath, ooo'ing and ahh'ing as I lowered myself into the hot water. But today, is definately pay day, and I'm guessing with the severity of the pain in my shoulders, hands and elbows, probably it will take the rest of this week to get over the day of basically folding clothes, or putting things on hangers or in dustbin bags and putting everything in its place. For someone who once did a full 10 hours physical labour for a job, be that 40 years ago now, I feel old, pathetic and fit for the scrap heap. I can't even blame the cancer entirely for this, as I know the main issue is from my lack of energy from my thyroid disease and my totally knackered muscles and joints from my fibromyalgia 😒 Today I decided to throw some washing on, and Paul helped strip my bedding, and apart from throwing some veggies and stock in my new soup maker for something easy and 'not milk shake' for my tea later, thats as good as its going to get for today. Even typing is hurting my hands and arms. I took down the calendar in the utilty room as I waited for the last 2 mins on the washing machine, you know the 2 minutes I'm talking about the 2 minutes that in real time is actually 8 mins but washing machine timer are obviously programmed to function on planet Mercury, and noticed last years was still hanging on the hook and flipped back to look at this time last year. It was full of the embryonic stages of my cancer diagnosis, scattered hospital appointments over the weeks through Sept, Oct, and Nov, and then December full of everyday trips to Cambridge to radiotherapy. Was it really so long ago? I can remember the first couple of weeks when it all still felt like it was happening to someone else, how 6 weeks felt like a life time to be rolling up to hospital everyday, especially for me, someone who could quite happily go all winter and only ever go out to put the wheely bin at the end of the drive. I remebered the initial thoughts of trying to delay it until after xmas so I could enjoy 1 last xmas dinner, 😶, the train, the taxi's, the driving myself when I was tired and afraid, the hospital transport cars that sometimes came, and more than often didn't, and then you were left wondering if you were even going to get there. The long walk/stagger to the radiotherapy waiting room, seeing the white board in the distance as you approached and praying it wasn't 'your machine' that had broken, and it meant you were going to be there for hours delayed. It all seems like a lifetime ago. I often wonder about some of the people, are they still alive? And when I think some of them probably won't be😢, I know I shouldn't complain. I hurt, I'm exhausted, most days I don't want to eat because it either hurts or i can't be bothered cos I can't taste it right anymore, I'm basically manically depressed, but I'm not dead! Another Sunday, and next week I have the week off to recover at least, no appointments until counselling on Thursday and dentist on Friday 😮 But I do have a very 'show home' dressing room, and for that I'm pleased as a 🐖 in 💩 even if my shoulders are definitely not!😂