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Home. It's amazing how comforting that little word can be.

Yesterday was a real wash-out of a day for us. The abdominal pains I have been having most nights continued throughout the day. All plans went out of the window. 

I rose early, not because I wanted to, but because I'd been told that that morning the surgery was going to release some more dates for seeing my regular(?) GP. I've got the date for the scan now. He'd told me as soon as I had that date I was to make an appointment to see him to decide what next to do. So reluctantly I got up to be on the phone for 8am. I've managed to get a date about 10 days after the scan.

I had been intending to make some ragu to have with some home-made pappardelle. It took me until 11am before I could face making the ragu. The pappardelle I just abandoned & used some dry pasta instead.

The rest of the day was spent writhing in pain, despite popping anti-spasmodics & painkillers as though they were sweeties. I tried for an afternoon nap but was too uncomfortable to sleep or even relax. In the end I got up. The Fox completed the cooking of the early dinner in the hope I could then have an early night if I wanted it. I was indeed in bed by 9.30pm. The pain eventually eased about 4am.

All this has convinced me there is no point in making plans at the moment. Even the idea of deciding what to cook, making food shopping lists, is questionable unless it's for food the Fox can easily take over. The idea of going away, mooted a few weeks ago, has gone out of the window. The last thing I want to do when there is a risk of being this uncomfortable is to be away from home. Usually I'm always game for something different, for a few days away if not a longer holiday, but not now. Now I want the security blanket of being home, with the Fox, surrounded by the comfort of the familiar.

As for the Fox, I watch the strain & tension grow in his face as he worries & frets over me. I'm not sure if my medical problem isn't having a more adverse effect on him than on me. But then I think that is often the carer's lot, the result of the sheer frustration of not being able to do anything to help. The cared for is just too sick, too uncomfortable, to care.

It is particularly frustrating when, at this stage, we still don't know the enemy we're fighting. Even if the diagnosis when it comes is dire, at least we can then adjust to it, know what to expect, know what can be done to help ease the situation at least, make the most of it. The uncertainty is almost the worst thing of all. Roll on September & the scan. 

 At least today my abdomen is feeling more like itself. Today I could easily get on with sorting food out. The only problem is that yesterday I was in such a state I've not bothered getting things out of the freezer or soaking pulses, ready to get on with the cooking. And will I still feel the same later when things have thawed / soaked? 

Meanwhile  we're off to the dentist. I'm finally going to get that tooth seen to or at least looked at to decide what has to be done. I suspect it's another cap, another expense. We'll see.