I’m in a library. In Gants Hill. Waiting to have a blood test. On Valentine’s Day. I’ve already posted my urine sample, ten minutes prior to writing this. I’m struggling to write. That’s nothing to do with these tests; that’s all to do with my pre-diabetes and the doctor’s attempt to get me back on anti-coagulant tablets. I’m meant to still be on these ever since my stroke back in November 2012. It was a year afterwards that I stopped taking them, once my test results came back and they decided I didn’t have a reason for having the stroke. Which is now also being debated, I was told originally it was a TIA. Then a mini-stroke. Now it’s back to a TIA. Even though the medical profession did pretty much next to nothing. Except duplicate a test because they didn’t know they’d already done it six weeks earlier. It was about this time I started to have concerns about the efficiency of our National Health Service. A&E are still generally amazing, but with the bigger things, I find you have to be lucky enough to get the right people on board. Which is a shame. But it’s nice that I get to self-diagnose and inform them of the medication I require.
Anyways, I’m finding it difficult to write because my wrist is cold and locking up quite a bit.
With 17 days remaining until we hit the Eurostar again, my training for the half marathon is practically non-existent. I’m not too worried. As long as I can get the pace right at the beginning, I’ll be fine. And that’s reliant on the playlist, the weather and the adrenalin. I’m hoping for a 9:30 per mile but real expectations start at the ten-minute mark. Either way, I want the medal and t-shirt. And a nice meal afterwards, probably around the hotel once we get our luggage for the return journey.
I’ve managed to maintain my ‘story a day’ on Instagram and even posted my very first reel. I’m in 3 of the little photos that run alongside Ashley Park’s Mon Soleil from Emily in Paris. That girl’s voice is amazing – as mentioned in a previous post (the one where I review the first season).
I know I won’t be writing in Paris, but I should top up the pens again soon. That said, I think I’m working my way through cartridges at the minute. For some reason, they don’t evaporate as quickly. The bonus being I continue to refill them with bottled ink. I also must try and crack on with the long back at some point. As long as my wrist doesn’t start to arthritically seize up…