But I did all that, I’m done with all that, months and months of that, just, no! No more of this too tired to walk across the house nonsense. Nonono.
Okay, whine over. This is temporary, this is the easy stuff, it’ll be over in days. My apologies to the Purlescencers I exposed–Thursday night I felt peachy-fine.
Wednesday I had had a follow-up at Stanford because my feral immune system seemed to be revving up against what was left of my dissolvable stitches and I wanted it checked out; I’m not supposed to start bleeding again now. (None today, finally.) But if I’m allergic to that suture material they needed to know.
The new Cancer Center, which is where my surgeons work, has waiting rooms that are quite small and partitioned off from each other, I imagine as a way of cutting down passing germs between immunosuppressed patients.
And so the man who came into Section A clearly feeling miserable had nowhere to sit but quite close to me.  (Dude. Three words: face mask, reschedule.) Friday I woke up with the flu.
I took that picture yesterday of the knitting I’d gotten done up till Thursday night partly as a way to try to entice myself to do some more–go, feel productive, work with stuff you love, go! And then I went back to bed.
Today I might manage it.