I fell off my chair, but it’s OKAY, because I am OKAY. My baby however, well, hmmmm.

Two days ago I sat down on my computer chair and leaned backwards, sinking further than normal. Thinking that it felt odd, I got off the chair and looked to see if for some reason, it was bent, or crooked, or somehow or other, new. Not noticing anything, I sat back down, leaned back and suddenly found myself laying flat on my back, legs akimbo, looking at the ceiling.

You know there is something wrong with your chair when your vertical self suddenly becomes horizontal when you least expect it.

Obviously I am okay, except that Amy laughed at me and then wasn’t much help when I had to contort myself into strange positions to get out of my predicament. Now I’ve had to steal my husband’s chair and it feels all wrong. It doesn’t tilt quite the way I like it and I’m left bundled up in the centre of the thing, trying to work out how to type quickly and easily, while also not getting stuck like a large spider in a too small space.

All of this is very First World Problems, which I know and understand, but I’m distracting myself from the week that was, and thus, you get to hear about my computer chair.

Plop. There I was, flat on my back, like I’d had a rug pulled out from under me.

Thursday, in the moments after my grandmother’s funeral, we hurried ourselves off to a Paeds appointment for Evelyn.

The short answer to “What happened, dear Veronica, tell us because we do love your baby so” is – we’re doing more testing.

Digression: Evelyn, when she was a vaguely preterm baby stuck in special care, bled beautifully, provided it was only a heelprick that we needed. Since then, she’s had plenty of cannulas and assorted other needle pokes and I am convinced that my baby does not actually want to part with her blood. And who can blame her really? Having needles poked into you is miserable enough without the blasted nurses then stealing the blood like vampires and taking them away. No. If I was Evelyn, I wouldn’t want to bleed either. But bleed she must and between you and me, Internet, I am dreading the next time we head into the hospital. End digression.

We’re now testing for neuromuscular diseases, because her tongue tremor is uncommon and concerning and Things Need To Be Ruled Out. Evelyn is also going to have another EEG, which is going to be Fantastic Fun when this child does not find things being placed on her head and stuck there with tape at all amusing. Also: Hair.

Needs must and all that, and in the middle of it all, I am stuck sitting on a computer chair that I Do Not Like and this is the end of the world.

Because when you’ve spent too much time reading about Neuromuscular Diseases, then obsessing over your chair just makes more sense than anything else.

Now excuse me. I have to go hug my baby.