Finally!

Readers, it’s happened.

My medication has finally been delivered.

In my fridge sit three boxes of pre-filled pens to dispense my adalimumab. They arrived Friday 10th March, and I was incredibly tense all day until they actually arrived.

I almost cried. If he hadn’t left so fast, I’d probably have hugged the delivery driver. I genuinely thought that I was doomed to not get my medication, and was starting to feel very despondent about it.

Now I’ve actually injected myself, I am feeling much better. Physically, anyway. There’s still a few mental health stumbling blocks that I have, not really related to this situation but certainly not helped by it, but definitely I am starting to feel more like myself.

I think people who aren’t on regular medication don’t realise how not having it can affect the body and the mind. I was convinced I was going to flare again, but luckily those pens arrived just in time to stop it.

Now I’ve got those, I can get back on track with everything that fell by the wayside while I was trying to sort out this crap. I can actively job hunt again. I can work on growing my Instagram (yes, I have an Instagram that I’m even worse about posting on than here) and maybe when I’m properly back to normal, sign up for a few courses I’ve been wanting to do. I had plans, folks, and flare ups and not having my meds kind of ruined those.

I am still cross about the whole situation. I firmly believe that there’s a need for a contingency plan for medical care when there’s a postal strike. I think it’s ridiculous that they send crucial forms out second class. I also think it’s ludicrous that I have to travel for half an hour to get a blood test when there’s a perfectly good hospital eight minutes away, but then that’s the ‘covid’ hospital so I guess they want to keep it that way and have the rest of us go to the secondary site.

Maybe I’m being unreasonable because I am still kind of mad. I don’t know. At least the situation is over, and I am much, much better.