Day 47: Home, Virus, and Cat Butts

Ahhhh, my own bed. Slept like a baby… except for the traditional wake-up call: a cat butt in my face.

Oh, how I missed it. Truly, nothing says “good morning” like furry rear-end sniffing and gentle paw smacks to the nose.

I am still feeling rubbish, thanks to whatever magnificent strain of virus decided to move in and redecorate my internal organs. God only knows what it was, but it’s definitely working overtime. I wonder if I had viral meningitis from the fever???

Thankfully, I worked from home today - my brain is still partially eaten by said virus, so commuting would have been… hazardous to public safety especially as this bastard has given me vertigo.

Onto my breakfast: thin protein bagel, 2 rashers of bacon, ketchup.

Wow.

I ate it.

Like a champion.

Hydration: can do better.

Nausea: still present.

Lunch: a handful of lime Doritos that tasted like cardboard. Gourmet.

The rest of the day was a fun romp through emails, conference calls, and PowerPoint updates - basically a lot of catching up after being signed off for a week and a week on the Isle of Wight.

I also spent a good amount of time on the phone to Boots.

25 calls.

Yes, TWENTY-FIVE calls.

All to locate my next 7.5mg pen of Mounjaro, because apparently ordering it three weeks ago isn’t enough.

Absolutely ridiculous.

And don’t even get me started on the recent price increase. From £122 to £330 for the highest dose? That’s a 170% jump! The manufacturer, claims it’s to align with global pricing standards.

But let’s be real - it’s a blatant cash grab. To make matters worse, they’ve temporarily halted shipments to the UK to prevent stockpiling. So now, not only are we paying through the nose, but we can’t even get our hands on the medication we need. It’s like being punished for trying to take care of our health.

People are stockpiling like it’s the end of the world, and I can’t blame them. But it’s causing shortages, and pharmacies are overwhelmed. It’s a mess.

Dinner on the other hand was a small victory: a lovely Thai green chicken curry, plus two ginger & turmeric teas - tiny sips of health in the chaos.

Followed by sofa snuggles with my handsome human and the furry nurses, watching The Thursday Murder Club.

(Also, I read the book - absolutely loved it. Highly recommend.)

But before I disappear under my duvet, let me just rant properly.

What is it with people and their unsolicited opinions about Mounjaro? Honestly, the ignorance is staggering.

“Why are you on it?” they ask, like it’s a Netflix subscription I chose on a whim.

“You don’t need it.” Excuse me, Karen, you don’t know my internal organs from a hole in the ground.

“You shouldn’t be on it, you look fine.” Ah yes, because my outward appearance is a complete blueprint of my health. Let me just pull out my perfectly functioning pancreas for you to inspect while we’re at it.

Do people not understand that every single body is a unique, complicated machine? That sometimes what’s happening inside has nothing to do with calories, weight, or how you “look”?

That medications like this are not a fashion statement or a lazy shortcut, but a tool for managing real health issues? Apparently not.

Honestly, it’s exhausting having to deal with the medical police in your DMs or on the street. Like, congratulations, you have a mouth. That doesn’t make you a doctor. That doesn’t mean you understand my body, my hormones, my metabolism, or my health history.

So yes. I’m on Mounjaro. Yes, it helps me. And no, your opinion about my body, my treatment, or my choices is neither requested nor relevant. And if you think telling someone they “don’t need it” is helpful… bless your heart. Truly, bless your very, very naive heart.

Rant over. Blood pressure slightly higher. Duvet time imminent. Night night, my fellow jabbers. May your beds be comfy, your cats slightly less in-your-face, and your viruses… politely move out.

With Love,

JABatha Christie