#cloudybuttrying

Worked from home again today—had my follow-up with the Professor after the biopsy. But truth be told, I wasn’t in a good place heading into it.

I drove recklessly. Snapped at other drivers. Lost my temper in the private hospital carpark, shouting at people to wait, just like I was, hoping for a space to open up.

Then came the appointment: six minutes. $180. That’s it.

The Professor said my bone marrow looks fine. That’s good. But for reasons no one can yet explain, my immune system is attacking the platelets my marrow is making. Until my count drops below 10 (I'm at 25), they won’t start treatment. So now, I’m back under GP care—routine bloods, regular check-ins, and monitoring. If my numbers fall further, then back to the Professor I go.

It’s technically good news. But with a clouded heart and a quick consult that left me with more waiting than clarity, it’s hard to feel relief.

The pain’s eased a little—I’ve stopped the Panadol—but every time I sit, stand, or even think about bending over, my hips remind me I’m still healing. And no, it’s not exactly cramping my social life... but you need to have one first to notice the difference, right? Classic Cloudy Cheer humour.

At work, though, the clouds feel heavier. Maybe it’s me projecting, or maybe something has shifted, but it feels like the trust and pace I saw from senior management in my early days has slowed. A project they once made me the lead on seems to have stalled, and the enthusiasm I felt in those first few weeks feels... distant.

Today, my I was asked to adjust pricing on a product range—but when I tried to make the changes in our ERP system, I was told I don’t have the authority. Yet, I can change pricing on the website? The mixed messages are frustrating. It’s like I’m floating in a fog where no one’s quite sure what I can or can’t do.

Today, I dragged my sore, tired self back to work. Let’s just say, I wasn’t exactly sparkling with cheer—more like a grumpy little raincloud trying its best to float through the day.

Every move hurt. Every stretch, every shuffle in my chair sent a wince across my face. It made the hours feel longer than usual. My bosses? Well, they knew I had the biopsy on Tuesday and that I was home yesterday recovering. But no one asked, “Are you okay?” Not a word.

Part of me tries not to let it sting. They don’t owe me anything. I’ve only been here three months. Maybe I should just be thankful they let me head off to appointments without fuss. Still… it would have been nice to feel seen.

The highlight? Finally having that first shower in two days. Oh, how good it felt to rinse off the ache and heaviness, even if just for a moment. For now, that’s my little silver lining.