Malaysian noodles

I’ll keep this quick as my BIL is going to phone at the end of mum’s daily dose of Strictly, so I’ve got to get this done in about 20 minutes.

Today mum had a headache, again, so I contacted the GP practice by email as I figured it would be harder for them to brush off something that would go on mum’s medical records in my words.

OK, that’s a lie: I contacted them by email as this introverted, neurodivergent person finds it much easier to communicate in writing. The thing about mum’s records is merely an afterthought bonus.

Anyway: this afternoon one of the nurse practitioners called back, by which time mum’s headache had actually eased for the first time in several days. The nurse practitioner was a woman, and I was supremely unsurprised when she took mum’s pain more seriously than either of the male doctors.

She sent a link to a leaflet with tips on managing headaches at home (although with a wry acknowledgement that there was probably not much I hadn’t already tried), and a link to a headache diary for me to complete on mum’s behalf. Unfortunately both links went to mum’s phone, from where I will have to get them tomorrow.

I spent a chunk of the rest of the afternoon browsing various websites looking for a new bed, as the one I’ve been sleeping in since coming home from hospital is a loan and I imagine the owner would like it back eventually. Of course, every advert on my phone is now for various furniture companies, which is at least better than the endless ads for Temu that I usually get.

The new bed will, however, have to wait until I have rehomed mum’s sofa bed, which currently takes up a large proportion of the floor space in my room. In one of those random upsetting moments that continue to ambush me, mum was genuinely surprised to learn that the sofa was hers, despite it having been a fixture in her house for 20-odd years.

Dinner was Malaysian fried noodles (mee goreng), topped with a fried egg which clearly demonstrates the inability to crack eggs properly which has plagued me since I started cooking, back when my age was in single figures. I left out the chilli garlic sauce that was part of the recipe, and spooned a bit over my egg for a much needed bit of spice.

Mum ate all of her portion and said she would like the rest for lunch tomorrow. I strongly suspect I’ll end up eating it, though, as mum likes saving leftovers far more than she likes eating them.

It will be fuel for my completion of the headache diary though, I suppose.