This week I discovered I am anaemic and "not just a little bit," as my GP said, wagging her finger at me like I was a naughty child who'd eaten too many sweets. This didn't come as a huge surprise and explained why I've been tired and dizzy but being told this information seemed to make me feel about a million times worse in spite of the fact that I have started taking the iron tablets a bit more regularly and have eaten steak, spinach and beetroot every day since. I even went home early from something and worried my friends.
This morning I decided that I was just being silly. I am perfectly fine. I'm as perfectly fine as I was before I found out about my low haemaglobin levels, which was 3 weeks after the blood test because as a novice user of the healthcare system I stupidly assumed that if there was a problem then they'd let you know. Before I found out I was going to work, swimming about 40 lengths a day, digging my allotment for hours (in desperation to avoid a weed letter) and walking the dog twice a day. After I found out I was struggling to get out of bed and the dog was getting grumpy. I became Mrs disorganised and couldn't remember where I'd put music or plans for lessons and just had to keep making things up (even more than usual).
Today, I got up and thought, "If I could do all that when I was anaemic I'll be unstoppable when it's back to normal." So I waited for it to stop raining enough for the dog to agree to step outside and went for a nice walk. Then I went to the allotment, came home ate more spinach, did an online Child Protection Course (THE WORLD NEEDS MORE SOCIAL WORKERS! -sorry about the shouting but it's important) and now I'm going to wash my feet and go for a swim and then I'll walk the dog if he'll go out in the rain. This evening I will have a curry for a friend's hen night and come home to catch up on my yearly excitement that is Eurovision.
The lovely thing is that I already feel fine. Perfectly fine. In fact I might be even better than perfectly fine.
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