Wednesday, November 11, 2015

Fibro tagged in

I awoke a bit better in the gut but my body riddled with fibro pain sheeting across my back—all in addition to the still injury of blown out upper arse muscles. 

It's deeply horrid. 

But I did get to read a Game of Thrones book as I played Warlords on theboy's mini-ipad so it wasn't all bad. 

It felt like though I was in a wrestling match, with my anxiety having spawned a fighting duo of fibro and IBS, their letters sprayed across their manotards and that IBS tagged out with fibro who then did one of those pushing back on the rings deals to run over and slam onto my body as I lay gasping face down on the mat. 

It was nice though at one point when the black cat curled up on my agony-riddled back and went to sleep, her warm body a heat pack against the pain.

What a good egg—and to think they say black cats are unlucky (1).

(1) I put the superstition down to a black cat at night darting out because it would have been hard to see before it started moving and therefore, especially in times without lighting, it would have been a warm, furry trip hazard (equals) face-plant on a cobble stoned street. 

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