I’m laying in my bed, legs weary from walking around LegoLand all day yesterday, with a sunburnt nose despite lots of factor 50 SPF application and a general feeling of contentment.
James is playing with his new lego and is amazing us that he’s put a Spiderman character together already, but we’ve also encountered our first Lego injury….I’m just waiting to step on a piece and start the swearing tirade of s*it, *uck, t*at, ba*ls.
I foresee a very expensive hobby about to unfold.
It’s been a full on week at work and I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel and in amongst meetings and testing and times where the project was scrapped, I got some news.
The good thing about being busy is that you tend to forget about impending results from hospital. For the first time in a LONG time I didn’t focus all my energy on a tumour that may or may not be there.
And the distraction paid off as my MRI was clear. A lovely call from Dr Powell herself and a no need to attend clinic until August!
This morning I woke up still exhausted from the weeks events with feet so sore and achy, but a lightness in my heart from being so relieved. Maybe I won’t cry in the swimming pool again for a little while.
Oh and the pain…well it could be linked to an intolerance to a type of food. If it’s wheat, I’ll deal with it even though I love bread and bread loves me. But if it’s cheese/dairy I shall cry and cry until I’m sick.
You can take my French baton stick, but you’ll never take my Raclette!
How ridiculously middle class did that sound? Soz.