Day 120 & 121: The Tale Of The Steroid Arm, The Chattering Cats & The MOUNJARO MYSTIQUE

A JABatha Christie production

Season 1, Episode 120 & 121: “Cement Arm & The Friday Redemption Arc”

THURSDAY - DAY 120

A day that started earlier than the sanity of any human should allow.

THE 5AM FOOLERY

Another early start.

Another office day.

Another episode of Why The Hell Is My Alarm Awake Before The Sun.

And of course - OF COURSE - I was woken up not by the gentle chime of my phone, but by the cat podcast happening live in my bedroom.

Ruby, Queen of Chaos, Duchess of Drama, and CEO of Early Morning Torture… was talking for England.

I swear on my oat flat white she said “hello mummy!”

Boyfriend AGREED.

This is how it starts - next week she’ll be asking for bank details and a Netflix profile.

I dragged myself up with the energy of a Victorian child recovering from fainting, threw myself into the day and OFF I WENT.

THE SACRED TRIPLE SHOT RITUAL

Mandatory.

Essential.

Non-negotiable.

My beloved Notes oat flat white - triple shot because my soul needs scaffolding.

Why don’t I enjoy coffee at home anymore?

Why does Notes taste like angels grinding espresso beans between their thighs?

It’s a mystery for the scientists.

OFFICE BREAKFAST: THE SAUSAGE CHRONICLES

Decided on the office restaurant breakfast:

2 lovely sausages

beans

small toast

Naturally, didn’t finish it because gastroparesis said:

“Absolutely not babe, we’re full after three atoms of food.”

Classic.

9AM OFFICE DRAMA: SEASON FINALE

9am.

Drama.

Immediate.

Aggressive.

Unnecessary.

Unhinged.

The kind of vibes that set the tone for the whole day like a bad smell.

I said NOTHING.

Not getting involved.

I’m not the drama - I’m just spectating with popcorn and trauma.

THE BIG EVENT: THE LEFT ARM STEROID INJECTION

Ah yes. The moment.

Walked in like a brave soldier.

Walked out like my arm had been replaced with a bag of cement.

It didn’t hurt.

BUT IT FELT WEIRD.

Crampy.

Tuggy.

Like someone was pulling my muscle through a keyhole.

Afterwards my arm genuinely felt like:

Cement.

Solid.

Weight of Jupiter.

10/10 dramatic flair.

0/10 ergonomic design.

But fingers crossed it actually WORKS because I cannot handle another week of waking up feeling like one shoulder belongs to me and the other to a medieval suit of armour.

LUNCH: NOODLE NIGHTMARE

Some weird flat noodles with chicken from WASABI which I usually love!

Yes they were flat.

Yes they were weird.

But the flavour??

Paper.

Absolute paper.

Left a funny taste in my mouth - somewhere between disappointment and cardboard.

Yuck.

Never again!

THE GREAT ESCAPE

Work was full-on.

Of course it was.

Thursday energy is unhinged.

Decided to leave early because the idea of being crushed on the tube with my cement arm was giving me full anxiety sweats.

Drove home like an elderly man doing his test - but survived.

Gold star for me.

Dinner?

None.

Standard.

Gastroparesis menu: air with a side of vibes.

EVENING ENTERTAINMENT: ALL HER FAULT

We finished All Her Fault and OMG - I KNEW PETER WAS DODGY.

I said it from the beginning.

And the best part?

EVERYONE was involved.

It was like a murder mystery party but everyone forgot to follow the script.

Loved it.

Onto the next one, popcorn ready.

THURSDAY = WEIGH-IN DAY

Morning scale:

–1.1lbs

Total: nearly 29lbs down.

My clothes?

Hanging off me like I’ve borrowed my dad’s wardrobe.

Went shopping at lunch for emotional support and -

LADIES AND GENTS:

I had to ask the shop assistant for a Medium because Large was too big.

I nearly cried tears of skinny joy.

FRIDAY - DAY 121

A completely different vibe.

Like someone cleared the energy with sage and a Dyson.

DRAMA-FREE FRIDAY

Removed myself from all chaos.

I was a ghost.

A whisper.

A neutral Switzerland.

Busy but calm - and GOD what a difference it makes.

THE CAT CONVERSATIONS

Had several full-length conversations with my cats, who 100% believe they are human.

They walked into my office like:

“Morning, Brenda. How’s the Q3 pipeline?”

They love me.

I love them.

Unconditional emotional support fluffballs.

Ruby probably said “hello mummy” again.

I’m convinced she’s about to start doing Duolingo.

BIG MOMENT OF THE DAY

Jabbed 10mg in my right thigh at 3pm.

One hour later?

Full Mounjaro coma.

Eyes open, brain offline.

Could have slept through a fire alarm or a marching band.

Truly surreal.

I existed but only physically.

THE MOUNJARO MYSTERY DEEPENS

Okay this is WEIRD but I actually feel BETTER on 10mg than I did on 7.5, even though I constantly feel exhausted.

Why??

WHY??

Is there logic?

Is it witchcraft?

Have I unlocked Level 2 of the Mounjaro RPG?

Less sick.

Less retching.

More functional.

Still no appetite but honestly food is overrated unless it’s a burger.

Now I need to decide:

Stay on 10mg or move to 12.5mg?

Decisions, decisions - like choosing between two exes with different trauma packages.

Also I need to drink more water.

I’m basically a dehydrated raisin with WiFi.

BURGER NIGHT

Logged off and we went to collect delicious burgers from a local kitchen.

They smelled incredible.

They tasted incredible.

I ate about 43% because my stomach said:

“That’s enough, princess.”

FRIDAY LOVE AFFAIR

I LOVE Fridays.

Everyone does.

But I love them more.

They give me hope, serotonin, and permission to exist horizontally.

Arm/shoulder/muscle - MUCH less painful.

Has the steroid worked?

Was it truly a frozen shoulder?

Are the medical gods blessing me?

WE SHALL SEE.

Evening = TV, chill, snacks I don’t eat, warmth from the heating actually being ON for once.

THE MOUNJARO FREEZE IS REAL

Heating is on and I’m finally thawing, but I SWEAR Mounjaro causes its own unique frostbite.

Like internal Antarctica.

Is it circulation?

Is it the jab?

Is it my soul leaving my body?

Who knows.

I’m cold but I’m skinny - a fair trade.

WEEKEND LOOMS

And with it:

Rest.

Chaos.

Cats.

Mystery shoulder pain updates.

And the eternal battle of “eat or forget to eat entirely.”

Day 120 and 121 were a wild ride, and honestly?

Your girl is THRIVING, jabbed, frozen, dehydrated and guided spiritually by cats.

JABatha Christie signing off - cement arm healed, scale cooperating, appetite gone, and weekend mood loading…

With Love,

JABatha Christie