My weight plummeted and I was beginning to look rather skeletal. My clothes were hanging off my hips and half of the clothes in my suitcase no longer fitted as I rummaged through last year's perfect shorts and flimsy tops. A mad shopping spree was not on my packed agenda but I found myself tirelessly trudging the shops for a smaller size.
Finally on holiday in Crete, I settled down on a lounger in the warm sun. The sun felt so good on my aching limbs and I could feel my fingertips and toes just as they should be. I slapped on the sun lotion in copious amounts and turned a nice golden colour.
Three days into the holiday I hit my usual problem -- constipation! It's one of those issues best left to personal experience and certainly not the topic of conversation over an Ouzo or evening meal. Like it or not it's a real thorn in my side and it's difficult to think about anything else but relief in the bathroom and the total dread of the toilet that beckoned me every time I felt a griping pain which in the end produced nothing but a whole lot of pushing and shoving, rather like labour and giving birth, for what in the end amounted to haemorrhoids and the fear of sitting down on anything other than a lavatory seat!
I endured 4 more days of mental and physical torture and I never thought I'd be glad to get home to do my business in the privacy of my own home. By this time I was feeling quite ill and I reluctantly paid a visit to my general practitioner who took me quite seriously for once and actually had some sympathy for my embarrassing position. What followed was a home visit by the local district nurse and the very undignified enema which she inserted and then decided to wait until I went and was happy for her to leave. Truth is I'd have been happy if she'd fired it from a gun in the next village, it's bad enough not being able to go never mind having an audience. I thought the whole family were about to give a round of applause and me a medal as I came downstairs in agony to report success, relief all round I suppose!
I needed Greece -- fact is I needed grease, too. as a lubricant. My sitting position is slightly to one side and I'm using cream to lessen the pain. One thing I must say is, never chop chilli peppers without washing your hands 40 times before applying cream to tender parts -- my screams could be heard across the pond, but hey, what a rude awakening. There should be a health warning on the tube. I did wash my hands, honestly. but obviously not as thoroughly as I'd thought. More agony inflicted on my poor rear. How much more pain can I take. Still, I have a sun tan.
My closing remark is about the entire mosquito population of Crete who gave me 10.001 bites and took a shine to my blood, whom I must congratulate on being the only blood sucking critter to ever get my blood without any problem. My only hope is that they are now flying around with Raynaud's in their wings and having a taste of scleroderma. Serves them right!