July is turning into a month of tests, medical tests. Blood. Urine. Etc. Something is amiss and they (the NHS and the nutritionist - coming at it from different angles) aren't sure what it is. Even the trifling exercise of taking blood samples sends me into minor shock, physically and then emotionally. The dam wall is breached. Tears and more tears. If I didn't realise it before I do now: these days I'm a delicate flower.
Now, the wait for results. The last one won't be through till early August. How's the thyroid? Liver? Kidneys? Blood glucose? Haemoglobin? Inflammatory markers? Metabolism? Just give me answers. Tell me what's wrong. And (hopefully) what's right. I want hard facts. Enough of not knowing, of fog.
Today a bit of recuperation. Pottering around the house in the ad breaks of the Tour de France.