the morning after the night before

Be thankful I don't do video clips. Yet.

a word of warning

A word of warning: when we left the hospital, I was tired, but buzzing. Somewhere between "What just happened?" and "THAT just happened!" I felt tired, but not tired tired. I spent more than an hour kicking myself for booking our return Eurostar for two days later. Totally unnecessary Josephine, we could've easily travelled home tomorrow. Tonight, even! Look, we're fine!

I spent the evening feeling unstoppably energised; even my trusty Kronenberg 1664 didn't take the edge of it.

However, after a late night and very disturbed sleep, I woke up the following morning in a state of regression. It's not an exaggeration (well it is) to say I felt like I'd survived a large natural disaster. Squished to a pulp, unable to use my body in any sensible way, but alive. My emotions were surging but my head, my face, my eyes, were just too exhausted to cry.

And then it hit me. Ha! The exhaustion hadn't had time to come through last night. And why might that have been? Because, my dear, something else had been getting in its way. Oh, biochemistry, you minx! I had been running on a tremendous shot of adrenaline all day. Oh the irony.*

I had been running on a tremendous shot of adrenaline. Oh the irony.*

The reason I'm writing about this is that this happened to me both times we tackled a serious nut. So... it's probably worth bearing in mind. After all, it's not just our son or daughter whose body is affronted during a day of OIT. Our endocrine systems run marathons, too.

I spent the morning with blankets on the sofa, snacking and watching the most gentle and soothing film I could find. Thank you, Moana.

Will I remember? Probably not. Will I learn? Probably not. Will I try to push through my exhaustion? Probably. Can I be kinder to myself next time?

Maybe. Just maybe. We'll see.

*Allergy in-joke, I apologise.