It’s funny, after you’ve been through so much, had so much surgery, treatment, poking, prodding, poisoning, cutting, burning, slicing, the word sore takes on a whole new meaning. That’s why something as small as telling myself it’s a good sore is so important.
Today I met my good friend Chris at the markets; we had a really fun day. I’m exhausted after walking around for a couple of hours.
I bought some beautiful new earrings and a hat to hide my scone head.
It was lovely being out and about in society again. It’s amazing how you hide yourself away when you go through chronic illness. My bedroom has become my haven, my safety zone, my escape. Nothing can hurt me there, no one can laugh and there is no judgment, only rest and comfort.
For anyone else this would have been a small day, but it was a big day for me. Tonight I’ll have a quiet night at home with my pain and fatigue as my companions.