Nine hours sleep! With only the occasional wee and no yucky poos!

I’ve been a little bit sore down there yesterday; it might have been all the extra sitting on harder chairs I’ve been doing since returning to work, or it might be the rougher/stiffer jean material, or it might just be that without the ibuprofen I’m feeling the discomfort more.

Today, I’m wearing dungarees. Whilst these are made of denim, because the straps are adjustable, I can create more room in the crotch if I need to.

Washing my bit (no longer bits!) is getting easier and I can spend more time enjoying the feelings before the sensations get too much for me. The stitches are fading to a light blue thread and are getting thinner.

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Since I am not allowed to do exercise at the moment, I’m taking the dog for longer and longer walks just to try and keep some level of fitness up together. The trouble is our dog is a beagle and unless you watch her really carefully she’ll eat any old shit – literally any old shit. When I’m walking, sometimes I might do Spanish lessons; I’m still trying to learn Spanish even though I’m now back from Mexico – I do want to see South America and Spain. I also tend to write my blog, or have a look on the Dog House Discord server. Then I suddenly feel the lead pull and she’s grabbed something and it’s in her mouth and she’s trying to chew it, if it’s bread or chips I don’t care, but sometimes she seems to be struggling to eat it and then I have to force open her mouth and have a look (she doesn’t resist too much when I fish down her throat). It could be that she’s got some chicken bones, which would make her choke, or just now I found she was trying to eat tin foil. Not hilarious. Great. Yuck. Revolting , because now I have dog spittal and whatever greasy slime that was on the tin foil on my fingers.

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I’ve walked into town for some exercise and to get out of the house. It’s a bit cold and rain is forecast, so I’ve not brought the dog. There is a small street market, where you can buy the most delicious brownies. However, I am drawn to Mexifun for a burrito!

When I lived in Bristol, there was the burrito bus in the middle of a traffic island. This was a pedestrian area. I would often eat there with friends from work or with my mum. Burritos being back happy memories.

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The walk into town and back feels like it took it out of me a bit; I’m feeling tired again. I also had pressure in my bowels, so I was glad to get in and empty myself. I am feeling a bit achy around the scar area, I’m actually wondering whether I’m ready to move on from the compression pants; I’ll try ordinary briefs tomorrow.

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I had a phone call from the doctor’s surgery this evening. The doctor wants to have a telephone consultation with me. The soonest date is nearly 2 weeks away. I’m being advised by a friend, who’s advice I trust, to immediately escalate this to the Health Watchdog because I was entitled to medication as soon as I arrived back from Mexico. I’m hesitating because I don’t want to alienate her because she’s seemed kind and compassionate, but there have been times where I’ve felt that she was being a little obstructive – I cannot put my finger on why. There’s nothing to be done over the weekend anyway, so I’m going to mull it over and discuss it with my husband – it’s nice to have him back to talk to!