My schedule has gone topsy turvy. Or perhaps as I am awake at quarter of two in the morning watching the ninth Doctor Who, it’s gone wibbly wobbly timey wimey. I didn’t expect the flare that took me down this morning. I was overwhelmed with autoimmune pain and nausea. I desperately wanted Tylenol for the blazing headache I had all day, and my prescription NSAID for the fever that spiked up and down, but I was too sick to swallow even a sip of water. While I was stuck in bed I tried to watch house flipper shows, but having my glasses on my face was unbearable. I slept as often as I could.
Somewhere around four this afternoon, I felt okay enough to stagger around the house a little, and eventually I got the Tylenol down. A few hours after that, I was able to eat. I skipped coffee, but I needed a warm beverage for comfort, so I made hot cocoa. I might be through it now, but how on earth will I sleep now? Ah, well. I finally get to watch the Chris Eccleston season for the first time. It’s going to make tomorrow awful, though.
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