Sunday 21st June 2020…ridiculous o’clock.

I can’t bloody sleep…I’m surprised this has not been an issue before now to be honest, given the events of the past three months.

I’ve not blogged for ages because…well…the world went just a little bit mad, didn’t it? In England, the 23rd March was the day lockdown was announced for the following day due to the coronavirus pandemic. Suddenly the fact I was awaiting a ruddy lung biopsy and further kidney stones/UTI investigations seemed so insignificant. The prospect of working from home while simultaneously homeschooling two primary school kids was much higher on my agenda, not to mention the deaths…all those deaths. More than 42,000 of them in the UK now. All those broken love stories. Not just numbers. Flesh and blood.

I’ve mostly been shielding, after initially being missed off the government’s “high risk” list, mainly because sarcoidosis is so rare. But it does affect my lungs so it was a bit of a no-brainer for me really. Though being missed off the list was actually hugely positive as it gave me the inspiration for a news story which I’m pretty gobsmacked to say was nominated by the Press Gazette as one of the world’s best exclusive news stories about the crisis. I’m up there with the likes of Fergus Walsh for God’s sake…ridiculous! And all while stopping two under 10s from killing each other or their maths work from sending me to an early grave first!

Joe Wick’s daily workouts have saved us physically but more importantly mentally, along with our own kitchen rave ups (I promise I have been anti-bac’ing the table after we have been dancing our socks off on it). We have also made it to the beach a couple of times, either very early doors or in wet weather to avoid people. What an awful sentence…”avoid people”. I crave a hug more than anything, even from a stranger, but crossing the road when I see anyone remotely close has become my mission. Like Pac-Man dodging ghosts. Two-metre rule if you please!

My husband likely had the dreaded Covid-19 at the beginning of lockdown and was holed up in our son’s bedroom for four weeks. Yes, four weeks. I might have thought he was faking had the football not been cancelled. In all seriousness though he did get quite poorly at one point and was taken to A&E. I have never heard coughing and wheezing like it. Thankfully he wasn’t admitted, so was never tested, and made it home with a steroid inhaler. The children and I didn’t have a single symptom and although our hands were raw from all the washing, I think we are probably the “super-spreaders” I keep hearing mentioned. Either that or the mystery illnesses we had earlier in the year were it?! Only an antibodies test will tell us for sure, but we’re more likely to find yeast and flour before we get one of those so we aren’t taking any chances. Gloves and masks are now the uniform, in what has become known as the “new normal”.

Yes, I am loving missing the daily commute, that can totally do one! And the pace is slower and has allowed me to relax and spend more time with my family. There are definitely more birds chirping and I certainly don’t mourn all the cars. But generally the “new normal” fucking sucks! A bit like this insomnia.

I’ve just been diagnosed with an overactive thyroid. No doubt that’ll be sarcoidosis related too as there is a link and my GP has not dismissed it. I feel like bottle of pop that has been shaken at full pelt and then the lid screwed on tighter and glued down. Hyper is an understatement! It’s also affecting my heart rhythm so I’m now on beta blockers for these episodes that I can only liken to what I assume having an elephant sitting on your neck feels like?!

I must admit though I would be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to the rapid weight loss a little bit. I’ve been waiting at least 20 years for cake not to instantly stick to my hips. But like I’ve said before weight loss usually means I’m really sick and like it’s doing now makes me feel grim. So, all hail those love handles!