I’ve decided I’m going to run on Sunday. My leg WILL be better by then. I refuse to let it not be better. I really believe that when you decide these things, it works. Like when I had my gall bladder operation, I had complications afterwards and they wanted to go back in for exploratory surgery but I was sick of people cutting me up so I decided I’d get better. I laid in bed, willing myself to get better, focusing my energy.
The next morning they came in to do tests before the surgery, but I’d fixed myself and instead of surgery, they sent me home. Of course, it would have been much better if I’d decided not to get gallstones in the first place but better late than never.
Tonight I’ve got the house to myself. Woohoo! It’s such a rare event. My sister’s gone to the footy and the housemates are going out. I’m about to cook some Vietnamesey chicken soup then soak in a nice Radox bath.
I got the Radox from the chemist and the nice pharmacist told me not to ice but to apply heat. Between the heat, the Radox, the Nurofen gel and my iron-like will, I’ll definitely be running.
With the phone bill, I’m waiting for Mum to send me a copy of the account then I’ll work out what to do once I can see if it’s a dodgy bill or just an horrendously overpriced plan.