One of my favourite poems of his runs as follows:
There are holes in the sky
Where the rain gets in.
They are ever so small
Which is rain is thin.
My version?
There are holes in my bones
Where the pain gets in.
They are ever so small
So can anyone explain why the pain is so fierce, intense, agonising, making me cloudy, sharp, distressing, annoying, putting me in a fog of indecision and lacking of concentration and all because I am trying to help things improve? :x :x :x
I'm a not-very-happy DD.
Have you got the despatches? No, I always walk like this. Eddie Braben
Comments
Which is WHY rain is thin.
Told you I can't concentrate. :x
My take on Spike's poem is 'The rain might be thin / but it soaks you to the skin.'
Let us be the wicked Christmas fairies and have a curmudgeonly day.
What a good way of putting it DD,I can't believe its just over 4 years since I've been on humira.
Hope the rain dries up for all.
Hugs DD and Sticky and anyone else who needs one. (((())))
Barbara
Thank you for your replies, everyone, I knew you would all get it. Things have eased a little today (and I am feeling more cheerful) which I hope is due to my increasing physical stamina. This morning I had a lovely wander through Waitrose and John Lewis and bought lovely things, this afternoon in between doing chores and resting I have been fiddling about with my Christmas tree, a source of comfort and joy (and aches and pains but hey, once cannot have everything, can one?) but the concentration is still absent: entry level Sudoku are defeating me which is most frustrating. DD
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