Help, I need somebody (or a million dollars)

Next week Friday, I have to see a labour specialist (and I say that lightly - it's a light-weight study).
This person will see what work I can do.
Never mind the company doctor, never mind all those physical and psychiatric tests that said I'm actually 100% sick.
Never mind all medical tests still running, immunologist visits and a rehab centre in my near future.
This person will sort it out (in favour of the university, who hired him/her).
Dutch labour law is a condescending misery.

I try to forget that this lies in wait like a tiger, but it's hard.
I so badly want for everything to be magically better - a lovely job, strong body, harmonious relationships.
This is a springboard to better things, I feel it.
I feel quite Pippi Longstocking-ly about it:

I'm losing weight again, a bit too fast. 
Son#3 who was sent home last week with the how manieth pair of wet pants, only went back to school now, so I could watch sad episodes this morning, of Dr Phil instead of Dora; Homes under the Hammer instead of Paw Patrol.
It felt good to waste time.
Luxurious.

I study when I can, and that's going well.
The husband is going to a fraternity weekend in Maastricht, and Son#1's friend Senna is coming for a sleep-over.
Taking it nice and easy.


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Tumultuous & Pondering

My friend's daughter is in hospital after an emergency appendectomy and peritonitis.

Go little Heidi!

Get better, poppet.
We're burning a candle for her.

We have organized the summer house exchange with a friendly family close to Torquay, in the UK.

My mother's plane ticket has been booked and paid for: she arrives on the 31st of March, and will stay until the end of May.

And for the first time in probably a decade, I haven't got an overdraft on my bank account.

Miracles are possible.

Meanwhile, my appetite has completely disappeared.

I eat because I feel faint, and certainly not hungry.

I've never experienced this before, and I'm not sure if it's a good thing or not.

I've dropped 3kg in 6 days, not surprisingly.

Son#3 is sitting next to me, singing Christmas carols.

Bless.

Tomorrow, a museum.

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Peace

Here's to loving starts of new seasons.

We had a quiet-ish night, waking Sons#1 and #2 for the Big Bang at midnight.

Sleep caught up with us finally, and the husband let me sleep to well after 10 this morning.

Everything has been cleared, the house is tidy and calm.

In a while, we're off to the in-laws' to wish them a healthy new year.

I have no resolutions to hold myself to, bar one:  A very John Travolta-ish Ah ah ah ah, Staying Alive, Staying Alive.

And the fervent wish that this applies to all my loved ones too.

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