Compostable Kate

http://allthingsclipart.com I've had another attempt to discuss my pain management medication (Tramadol + anti-inflammatory) with the GP, and have come away with no solutions. The first time, with my regular GP, I asked for my pain meds to be reviewed, as I was finding that exercising in the gym was causing me too much pain, and that it was important for me to keep exercising, as I really need to lose weight and increase my fitness if I want to be able to work again and not end up with obesity-related illness(es). Her suggestion was that I start taking a weight-loss drug. However, as weight-loss medication is incompatible with my anti-depressant (where the main side-effect is weight-gain!!), she said I should talk to my psychiatrist about changing my anti-depressant. Apart from her having missed my point, I have no intention of changing my anti-depressant, as the last time I did that I got incredibly sick, and I'm still reeling from the fall-out from tha

In order to share my recent enlightening experience, I also have to share something mortifying. OK. So. "Sniff Break" at the shopping centre. On Saturday I went and got new tyres for my wheelchair, having worn them down to the threads. Nothing earth-shattering there, except that I found that having new, round tyres with tread on them meant that I could no longer actually move my wheelchair. This is because I've put on so much weight I now stop the wheels going around, with my big fat thighs. My old tyres were so worn down that I could still move the wheels, but even then one of the wheels would rub on the side of my leg, where the skirt protector is missing. So I found myself housebound, from being too fat. Horrifying, both from the fatness, and from the housebound-ness. I have been trying to lose weight for a long time, and although I have stopped putting it on, I'm finding it very difficult to lose anything of any significance. Anyway, in order to not

I've just washed my dishes, for no other reason than that they needed doing. There weren't very many, and it didn't take very long. This doesn't seem very remarkable, except that the state of my kitchen sink has long been an analogue for how my life is going. If things are going badly, my dishes don't get done, and everything is messy and horrid. If things are going well, they do get done, and everyone's happy. Over the past year it has become more physically challenging to do my dishes (and most things: my wrists and hands are stuffed), and as I would have already expended some of my already limited energy on cooking – hence the dirty dishes – I rarely had the energy to also clean up afterwards. So there would be dirty dishes. I don't leave my dishes in/around the sink because I just don't care about them, or can't be bothered; when I have limited physical resources, washing dishes becomes a low priority, compared, for instance, to lo