Seriously... week 40. I remember when week 29 seemed shocking. I almost feel like I should throw a party or something. My illness is now 40 (weeks). Maybe it needs a good midlife crisis... a red convertible, start dating a hot flu half it's age (please gods no). :)
OK, this week has actually sucked. No hot young flu but this pulled muscle has been brutal. It hurts when I move, when I sit, when I lay down, when I take a deep breath. Sleeping has been almost impossible... which, let me tell you, is especially miserable when one is tired all the time. Actually finding a comfortable position at night is made more challenging that the rules seem to change every night. What worked perfectly one night is literal screaming agony the next.
Today is actually not so bad. It hurts less. It's hard to be optimistic because Thursday was pretty good too but Friday and Saturday where horrible. Still, I'm trying to be a little positive about things.
In other news NewCat (Juno's calling her Tilly, which is what the shelter called her, so I guess we might be going with that) seems to be settling in. At least, she's hiding less. Teenager is also doing better (not great, but better... touch wood). Juno is still stressed out and angry about being the only healthy human in the house. I can't say I blame her.
Onward. The only way out is through.
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