I haven’t been this exhausted for a long time. I look in the mirror and I can see it etched into my face, under my eyes; I don’t even need people to tell me how tired I look to know that my appearance matches my internal state.
Mum’s being the usual trooper. The surgeon says she is doing really well, and she’s been up and out of bed a couple of times. She is still really tired though, and I got a good look at her leg while the nurse was trying to remove an anesthetic line from the knee. She’s very bruised and obviously has a large wound where they cut, but it isn’t that much more swollen than it was before the surgery (which shows how bad it was before!).
Lots of people have visited and called and sent flowers, which is lovely. She’s given me some to take to work and have at home, and they’re very cheerful.
I just want to cry though, from sheer tiredness. And I feel bad being so strung out when mum’s the one in hospital! But it’s been a bit of an emotional rollercoaster the last few days, and I am just finding it really hard to wind down properly. I should be in bed really, but I just keep roaming around, feeling aimless and too weary to actually stop, paradoxical though that seems.
I might lie down and read some Terry Pratchett; that should be restful enough.