The pattern of it

A rough few days. Not dangerous, just relentlessly unpleasant, the kind of unwell where you cannot read and cannot sleep and cannot settle to anything.

Documented gently.

The nausea has a shape to it now. Thursday teatime it starts, Friday it peaks, Saturday afternoon it lifts. Once I could see the pattern it stopped feeling like something happening to me at random.

Reflux again. I slept propped up on three pillows and woke at two anyway. I have an appointment on Thursday and I am going to actually mention it this time rather than deciding it is not worth bothering anyone about.

Constipation, which I have avoided writing about for six weeks out of pure squeamishness. It is the thing making me most miserable and I have said nothing about it to anybody. That seems worth noticing.

Same time next week.