Self pity

I'm going to vent as nearly nobody reads this and so I don't get offended when nobody says anything.

Right.

Pelvic pain is unbearable. No work today. Called physio, was told that I could go to a class on Monday but they had no appointments for two weeks. I pointed out I basically can't walk and so I got told that I will get a call when they have an appointment. Whenever that is.

Today's huge amount of activity consisted of collecting the boys from school, driving to asda and waddling round to get some birthday cards and cakes.

NB Cakes for me. I need cakes.

Result: absolutely broken. When I say I can't walk, I obviously can actually walk, it just hurts too much and the more I walk, the more it hurts.

I'm so fed up, and I'm back to feeling very sorry for myself. How are you? I'm sore. Oh.

No, I need more sympathy than that. I'm more or less stuck in the house and I'm struggling to deal with the twins and their need to be transported, have a functional adult, be fed etc. What worries me most is how to get through the summer holidays without them being bored stupid.

I would like to go to work for the last couple of weeks. I would, i feel really bad about not going. But the walking hurts too much that I couldn't sit at my desk when I got there. I don't know how to get signed off either, that usually has to be done by a doctor and I doubt they'd see me when it's a midwife thing. I'll throw myself at their mercy tomorrow.

I kind of want a bit of fussing. I know. I know. Hubby is being ace, he's doing a lot of chores and he is taking the boys to school every morning, but he's not a fusser. I need regular fussing over.

Pout. Boo. Hormonal spoiltness.

Be pleased about baby.
Be pleased about lovely hubby.
Be pleased about enforced houseboundness in time of dissertation finishing.
Don't expect too much of other people.

Done now.