(Im)patient

I'm not the best patient. I've been chastised by friends for being crap at asking for help, which is a hallmark of a very independent life. I nearly cycled to the hospital which would have been ludicrous when I ended up being admitted. I am also not someone who relaxes easily, usually launching from chaos to madness and back again, in a swirling mass of impatience and clamour.

I'm battling with the abandonment of a 9+ year record of non-sickness at work, but I suppose I've never been in this situation and need to accept it. When the doctors talk about tropical viruses like dengue fever and I think about how I've felt at times in the last year, I've been a hit a few times but haven't recuperated properly. This could be a good jolt to the system.

My friend and colleague Zoe lives a few hundred metres away and is on maternity leave. We had meze for lunch, accompanied by her incredibly smiley and placid three-month old daughter. Zoe craves meaty conversations and dodges talk of nipple pads and breast pumps. It was lovely to get some fresh air, enjoy the mild temperatures and cover a multitude of topics.

Bright blue sky and autumn colours on this wall foliage on one of Cambridge's backstreets.