It started out as a fairly reasonable pain day - I couldn't sit up, but lying down, doped up on morphine I was able to chat and watch the kids OK. Around mid-afternoon, though, the pain started to flare and I had a terrible couple of hours waiting for it to be time to take more morphine, then waiting for it to take effect.
My sis had taken the kids to the park at that point, to give me a chance to rest, so most of this awful period was spent by myself, desperately wishing they'd hurry up and get back , so they could take my mind off it.
Earlier, though L had gone to get a couple of bits from Tesco; she took my nephew with her, but left my six-year-old neice with me. We had a lovely time lying side-by-side doing puzzles and colouring-in, chatting. We talked about the vagaries of being a big sister, her new house, her visits to daddy and all sorts of other stuff. It was lovely - I felt really connected, and it was exactly the sort of thing I was longing for yesterday.
The kids were fine with me being stuck in bed all day, and I did manage to briefly take them in to see the chinchillas, before it all went tits up.
When they got back from the park though. I was curled up in agony waiting for the triple dose of morphine to kick in so that I could speak again. They went off to watch a DVD, which gave L and I a chance to talk. Except I kept getting maudlin and going on about how bad things are, how screwed I am, and how hopeless the outlook is. L didn't really know what to say, so she unsubtly - but effectively - kept steering me back on to more cheery topics.
It worked, and by the time they left, I was even able to get up and give them all a hug. I just wish we could do it all again, very soon.
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