Day 117-119: MON-TUE-WED: The Trilogy Nobody Asked For

A three-day saga of pain, drama, collagen powder and bacon-roll trauma.

Let me start with this: I had to squeeze three days into one post because life decided to throw me into a blender set on “puree.”

Honestly the first half of this week was so horrendous - at work and outside - that I’m convinced I briefly astral-projected out of my own body, looked at myself, and said:

“No babe… not today.”

But hey, it happens to the best of us, right?

MONDAY — Aka: Who Woke Me Up at 5am and Why Am I Not in Jail?

A. M.

Let me repeat:

FIVE.

AY.

EM.

My bones were rattling from shock.

Why?

Because Your Girl had to drag herself into the office before her specialist appointment to get the MRI results for the left arm that currently functions like a decorative noodle.

Of course, first stop: NOTES Coffee because we do NOT face medical news without a triple-shot oat flat white with collagen.

I swear, every time I sprinkle that collagen powder in public I just KNOW someone is watching like:

“Is this woman micro-dosing cocaine into her coffee at 7:00am?”

Let them wonder.

Keeps them entertained.

Next: Pret bacon roll.

Except it was hotter than the sun.

I’m talking molten-lava-level bacon.

Dropped it on the floor - but fear not! It was wrapped in foil.

Untouched by germs.

God bless Pret for industrial-grade packaging.

Work → Specialist appointment → emotional whiplash.

Diagnosis: Frozen Shoulder.

Why?

No one knows.

Was it age?

Is it my heavy bag filled with 9 lip balms and emotional baggage?

Did I sleep wrong that one time in 2019?

Who knows.

But apparently I am now the chosen one.

Treatment plan: steroid injection + physio.

Fantastic.

A human kebab.

Back to the office - and the rest of the day was full of drama so pointless it could’ve been an episode of The Real Housewives of My Workplace.

I’m genuinely done.

I go in, I do my job, I leave.

No politics.

No nonsense.

No people breathing weirdly near my desk.

Then straight into a work do from 12–6, where I sustained myself on a protein bar and later Prosecco, because hydration is a lifestyle.

By 9pm the thought of public transport gave me the ick… so I Ubered home.

ALL THE WAY.

Expensive?

Yes.

Irresponsible?

Absolutely.

Regrets?

Not a single one.

Mini, my beloved motorised child, had to stay abandoned at the station car park overnight.

I said goodnight to her telepathically.

TUESDAY - The Day I Attempted to Lie In and the Universe Said “LOL NO”

Worked from home.

Had hopes.

Dreams.

Aspirations.

Thought I might sleep until, say, 7:30.

But no - 10mg JAB from Friday + my cat podcast duo =

“RISE AND SHINE BABE TIME TO PANIC.”

Exhausted wasn’t the word.

I looked like an unwatered plant.

Breakfast: coffee + toast.

Lunch: Freya’s chicken ramen with veg and noodles.

Ate half. The rest stared at me with disappointment.

Work was bonkers again.

More drama.

I swear some people treat the office like a theatre school.

Honestly… give it a REST.

Retching made an appearance - because what is a day in my life without my gastroparesis going:

“SURPRISE, HERE’S SOME SALIVA YOU DIDN’T ASK FOR!”

I still wonder at least twice a week if my small intestine is going to eject itself into the sink one day.

Then TV time - because mental stability is overrated.

“All Her Fault” - my new obsession.

Move over Grand Designs and Phil Spencer in New Zealand (my two TV comfort men).

This show is INSANE.

Peter?

Absolutely dodgy.

As dodgy as a £1.50 umbrella from the corner shop.

WEDNESDAY - I Am Officially Allergic to Being Awake Before Sunrise

Another 5am start.

Why? Because life hates me.

Train → Tube → Office → NOTES coffee + collagen powder → Pret bacon roll.

People must think I’m in a committed relationship with Pret.

They’re not wrong.

Then the big girl move:

I withdrew myself from the toxic situation at work.

Energy reclaimed.

Aura cleansed.

Vibes restored.

I could hear angels singing.

Lunch: Farmer J chicken harissa bowl.

Delicious. Nourishing. Beautiful.

Could I finish it?

Of course not.

Why am I like this???

Someone needs to confiscate my debit card.

Left work early because I was DONE.

Trains behaved for once (a plot twist).

Got home earlier than usual and reunited with Mini, who’d been waiting TWO NIGHTS for mummy.

The emotional reunion was cinematic.

Then…

I fancied rum.

Because it was Wednesday and I’m a simple woman.

Had some.

Will pay for it with retching later.

It’s fine - I’m used to living dangerously.

Ended the night with more episodes of All Her Fault, losing more brain cells with every twist.

How can this show get MORE complicated??

Every character is shady.

I trust NONE OF THEM.

Tomorrow: another office day + steroid injection.

Brrrrrrr.

My shoulder is shaking in advance.

And there you go - three days of chaos, retching, bacon roll tragedies, work politics and rum.

A cinematic masterpiece.

If this week doesn’t give me a BAFTA for “Best Performance in a Real-Life Drama,” I’m starting a petition.

With Love,

JABatha Christie