Week seven. Truro. I am so tired that I sat down on the wall outside the Co-op last Tuesday, not because I needed to, just because the wall was there.
It is not sleepy tired. I sleep fine, arguably too well. It is the sort of tired where my arms feel like somebody else is operating them and reading a page takes three goes. I have been putting it down to the medicine because the timing fits, and then on Sunday my sister said, very reasonably, or you could be anaemic, you have been tired since March, and I realised I had stopped considering any other explanation about five weeks ago.
Which is a thing I would like to flag for other people in here, actually. Once you start one of these, everything that happens to your body gets filed under it. Sore knee? The medicine. Bad mood? The medicine. I have not had a single ordinary illness since May because I have attributed all of it to one cause.
I have a phone appointment on Monday. I am mostly posting to ask what people asked for, and whether the fatigue did settle for you, and how long you gave it before you went and got looked at properly.
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