Haven't been too well this week. Yesterday my colleague asked me if I was ok. I had to say 'Not, really.' She smiled and said, 'Thank $%*& for that - you look like death, but I didn't like to say!' That cheered me up.
There's a tendancy to blame every little ill on the surgery at this stage. I'm 5 weeks out so every gastro-intestinal thing must be surgery-related, right? I took today off, sick, and when I rang work to see if everything was ok, there are lots of us ill, all with similar symptoms. I've said it before, but it's a penalty of working in the bacteria soup that is a primary school.
So, taking it easy on the food and drinking more today.
I'm doing well, generally. Managing to tolerate a wider range of food and nearly died in ecstasy when I managed a poached egg on a slice of toasted Weight Watchers malted danish bread Took ages to eat, though...
Struggling with my clothes a bit now. I have shrunk below a lavel where I can wear any of my old suits, and I refuse to spend lots of money on what I think of as interim clothes. So, I'm going to work in wide-legged linen trousers and tops from Asda. I like it, but it's a bit of a departure for me for work. They'll get over it, I guess!