I think about blogging every day. I mean to but I just don’t have the energy to invest most days. I feel sorry for that. Most of all because I am not documenting stuff about the kids that I know I’ll forget.

I feel guilty about not commenting. I keep a ton of posts unread so that I can go back and comment later. Some people’s posts go completely unread so that I can save them for a time when I can really concentrate and give them the attention they deserve. None of it happens. I feel more guilty.

I have a couple of award/memes that I really intend to do but have still not gotten around to. There are one or two people who I really need to post about and link to because they’ve done something lovely for me. I haven’t done that either.

In short, as a blogger, I rock.

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Today I went to a local hospital and lay on my stomach in a cold room that smelled of alcohol swabs. I lay still, breathing only when a machine with an American accent told me that I could, as the techs took x-rays and made marks on my back. A doctor came in and introduced himself, he swabbed my back with betadine and injected a small amount of local anaesthetic into the skin around my sacrum (triangular shaped bone at the back of pelvis). He and a tech, dressed head to toe in protective gear, turned on the CT machine and I lay perfectly still as they slowly inserted a long needle into the joint between the sacrum and ilium. Once the doctor was sure that the needle was positioned just right he injected a mixture of coritsone and local anaesthetic into the SI joint. He said “there will be a bit of a sting” but what I felt was the most agonising and profoundly wrong sensation I have ever had to endure.

I am au fait with pain, I consider myself a  pretty tough cookie. This made me whimper and weep. To lie perfectly still while he inflicted this on me went against every instinct. And then he did it again, the second side was worse. They told me it was so bad because the area is extremely inflamed. The steroid injections sends all the inflamed muscles into spasm. They are still spasming merrily away.

So now I have to wait. It should be a week or so before we know if it will help. I really hope that it does. Also, I hope it doesn’t because if it makes me all better  for a while then it means I will have to do it again. I will need a serious dose of sedatives to tackle that.

There is something seriously wrong with our dog. She has the most horrendous gas at the moment. Honestly. I’ve never experienced anything like it. Even when she’s in the next room it drifts in and wraps itself around your face like a suffocatingly warm, stinky scarf. And it stays. Her farts have unparalleled staying power. By the time one dissipates, another has wafted in to take it’s gag-making place.

On the upside, I am a marginally better this week. A bit less nauseous, a bit more energy. I have been able to clean a bit so we are not knee-deep in our own filth. It feels good to be able to muster up the mental energy to plan an activity (such as cleaning the kitchen and putting on a load of washing) and then still have the energy to actually get off my arse and do it. I’ve actually been able to manage pretty much all of the housework, not just one day but every day. I am still sleeping a bit too much – today Beefcake woke me at *ahem* 1pm (how embarrassing) but a couple of weeks ago I would still not have had the energy to get out of bed and do anything after that mammoth sleeping effort. Today I even went to the shops! Small victories people. It is a great comfort to begin to feel that I am coming back to myself, I was beginning to doubt that I was in this shell at all.

Unsurprisingly, my idea of going back to work and reclaiming my career has been put on the back burner. I can’t imagine that I will be able to manage that in the very near future. I have mixed feelings about that. The lazy, insecure part of me is relieved. I will not have to challenge myself. I will not have to test myself against the expectations of my profession and be found lacking. I will not have to try (and fail). Another part of me feels frustrated, caged, angry that I can not go out there and do what I want. There are other multitudes of thoughts and emotions. I am glad to be staying at home with my babies a while longer and I feel lucky to be able to do that. I feel a failure for having not tried harder to go back to work – has the self-sabotaging part of my embraced this being unwell too readily?

Oh my god. What on earth would possess me to think all that shite let alone write it down here for other people to read? I need to learn to just go with the flow. That’s what Beefcake would say.Unfortunately, the flow this evening consists of dog and husband smells swirling around me in a miasma of disgusting. I’m not joking, Beefcake just got so fed up with the smell of his own feet he took his socks outside and I can hear him washing his feet.

Anyway, I’ve decided I am going to try to rejoin the human race again. I have neglected all of my friends. There are people who I have been ignoring completely. I am going to have to suck up to several of my friends for forgiveness. I’m having people over tomorrow, providing I can get the house aired out enough. Nobody should have to suffer through what I’m currently being punished with. There is not enough incense in the world.