Do you ever wake up in the middle of the night in a complete panic? Or is it just me?
I’m feeling weary today from my latest stress-out, which left me wild-eyed and awake for hours when I should have been sleeping.
And I am soooooo annoyed at myself because the panic was totally avoidable.
I have no idea why I haven’t developed more common sense by my age, but I showed absolutely none when scheduling my Thursday.
This is what tomorrow looks like:
- Wake at 6am and empty bladder
- Drink one litre of water between 6-6.30am then hold
- Walk dogs
- Catch bus to radiology centre
- Arrive at 7.15am for a 7.30am pelvic ultrasound to check how Freddie the Fibroid is going
- Catch train to work
- Meet whisky distiller in lunch break
- Go back to work for a few more hours
- Catch bus home from work
- Walk dogs
- Have dinner with the youngest who is making a rare appearance in Sydney
- Go to 6.30pm body corporate meeting
- Walk dogs
- Collapse in bed
That is too much for one day. Way too much.
My chest feels tight again just thinking about it.
Mind you, Friday is just as crazy. But I’ll save the recap of that madness for next week.
PS I’d forgotten it was my GP who christened Freddie the Fibroid … until I went searching through old blog posts for a photo of him.
I’d also forgotten that my gyno said I couldn’t have a muffler-through-tailpipe hysterectomy because Freddy was as wide as a full-term baby’s head.
I wish I could forget the three hours I spent in a specialist’s waiting room two years ago hoping he would say he could bag Freddie, blow him to bits and extract him that way. But no, apparently there’s no good reason to do that other than me feeling funny about having a fibroid the size of a 13-week foetus inside me.
Well, at least that’s how big he was last time they measured him. Will advise on his current measurements when I receive them. Bet you can’t wait!
PPS Due to my frenzied schedule there will be no blog post tomorrow.
Song of the day: Split Enz “My mistake”
housegoeshome 
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