When will it end?

What with all my poor health of late. I just wonder what life has in store.

I have numerous friends dealing with horrific health problems. No I’m not the only one.

Then last week my gorgeous, smart, loving daughter in law had surgery last week for an ectopic pregnancy. That would be bad enough but this was the second in under a year. Making this not only a tradgedy in itself but life changing for her and her little family. She so wanted a second child.

Several months ago I learnt that my best friend from school had lung cancer. If that wasn’t bad enough her brother died of covid at the start of the year. My friend and I had lost touch for a number of years when our children were young. In those days there were no mobile phones and no internet. I found her again through Facebook about 8 years ago.

We both had busy lives and always promised we would meet up again at some point. I had moved away from the area 33 years ago. Our communication was intermittent but we were still in each others thoughts. During one of our more recent communications I had promised that providing I was well enough I would make the effort to go and see her this summer.

Unfortunately it is now too late. My dear friend passed away peacefully yesterday morning.

Why is it that the good people in this life have to suffer so much.

Not here yet

i have lost track of how long I have been home from hospital. I still don’t feel like I am back in the he here and now yet.

Not only do I still lack energy but mentally I don’t feel as though I am back yet. There is so much I want to do but I don’t feel that my brain is in gear. I can read or knit or watch TV. I can cook simple meals and do a bit of cleaning. Anything that takes brain power just isn’t happening.

I have been having more than my usual amount of down days. I know that I will get through this. After all I am a weeble. You can knock me down but I will get right back up. It’s just that these days it seems to be taking longer to get back to my sunny disposition.

Maybe that’s because I’m getting older but maybe it’s because I feel like the knocks are becoming more frequent. I don’t know and I don’t like it.

I’m home

After 11 stressful days in hospital I am back home. I still have my appendix in situ but have to have it removed at some point in the not too distant future.

I am currently feeling relieved to be home but very fragile and weak. I need to be kind to myself and give my body time to recover from everything it has been through.

I also need to get my head into the right space before normal service can resume.

Weighing up the risks

I have been in hospital since Monday morning. (My first ever trip in an ambulance).

I have appendicitis. I have been in incredible pain since Saturday morning. Normally I would have had my appendix out days ago. I’m a complicated case. Taking Ng out my appendix is a risk of damage to other organs.

The dr keeps telling me every day that my blood tests show I am getting better with antibiotics. I keep telling him I am not getting any better. The pain is still just as bad.

Another Dr has just gone to look at the scan I had earlier. Hopefully they can then come up with a plan.

The sun came out today.

All through May we have had lots of rain and not much sun. For many of us we still have our heating on. After all my excitement at getting our washing line put in 10 days ago, I have not been able to use it yet.

Today the sun has been out. It has been our first warm day. I actually went out without a coat/jacket. I have seen photos of friends enjoying a drink in the sunshine. Others have been on lovely walks in the sun.

My views today have been from hospital windows. Today was the day for my colonoscopy. Yesterday l spent the day drinking 4 litres of klean prep to clear my body out. ( No food after 8am and that was only rice crispies.) My day was spent in the bedroom so I could be close to the bathroom.

This morning I subjected myself to the hospital staff. I must say that I had a very kind gentle Portuguese male nurse looking after me. He was so considerate of my feelings and comfort when he needed to insert a cannula. I had told him of my needle phobia. He took the time smoothing my hands and arms to find the best vein he could. Apparently my veins were very wobbly.

He promised me that he would only make one attempt to get the needle into me. It did take time before he finally pierced my skin. Success first time. It was then time to don the non flattering gown and paper knickers.

A few minutes later I was in the room where the procedure was taking place. I remember getting into position on the bed and a sedative being put through the cannula. I was aware of being wheeled into the recovery room.

As usual after an aesthetic I was being sick. I was informed that my ride would be here at 11.30. I asked what time it was now. 11.15. ( no way would I be ready in 15 minutes). I let him know to come back in an hour.

After all that it seems that my fickle body has yet again come up short. This is not the first time I have had an invasive investigation that couldn’t be completed.

“Procedure limited by benign stricture” Further investigations required.

Next step is for a CT scan. Oh great joys. I don’t mind these but it usually involves having another cannula.

Being unfamiliar with this hospital it didn’t help that there is construction work being carried out which made finding the drop off and collection point difficult to find. I was dropped off at the wrong side of the hospital. I was being collected from the same place. This meant that I had a long walk going to and from my treatment. A very kind make nurse carried my bag walking me back to the pick up point only to discover that my lift had managed to find the main entrance after all. More walking followed. I was so relieved to finally find my car. 2800 steps isn’t much but right now to me that was a huge effort.

Having left home at 8am I was back home at 2pm and went back to bed. Having had a deep sleep I returned to the land of the living just before 5pm. I am now starving, my stomach is rumbling. I shall be ordering a take away to be delivered tonight. Do I opt for chips or Chinese?

Tomorrow is another day. At least I can put today behind me and know that I won’t be going through that again.

I am hoping that tomorrow I shall be able to go out in the garden to soak up some 🌞

Spanner in the works

I had it all planned out. Books out for collection Friday, Monday, Wednesday and Friday that takes me almost to the end of the month. I was late getting started this week. Then other things got in the way so there are no books out for me to collect today.

Because of my low energy levels I’m only putting out around a dozen books each time. So now I need to do a few more each time to get round to all of my customers.

I found out this morning that I am having an endoscopy next Thursday. Which means a covid test on Monday. Then self isolate from Monday to Thursday. I am likely to be feeling rough on Friday.

I am now going to attempt to get all my books out for pick up this Friday and Monday. I won’t be able to do a pick up next Wednesday so no point putting any out for then.

I did know that I would be having an endoscopy within the next two weeks but hadn’t considered that I would still have to isolate after all have had both jabs and putting out and picking up books doesn’t really involve seeing anyone.

The domino effect

It feels to me that I am experiencing the domino effect. Each domino that falls knocks the next which then leads to the next.

Dominoes

Each time I have any serious health issues I get radical treatment which cures the problem.

Unfortunately that treatment leads to another serious problem. That then gets treated but then leads to the next problem.

I am currently waiting for a date to have an endoscopy to rule out cancer. I’m feeling a bit anxious if truth be told.

Once, twice three times a doctor.

This morning my day started with a very long chat with my sister in law. We keep up with what each other is doing via Facebook buts it’s been ages since we had one of our long phone chats.

Not long after that my phone rang. It was the hospital. (Not the one I usually go to). They have got the results of my latest blood tests. I am now booked in for a telephone appointment on Tuesday afternoon.

Half an hour later another phone call from the hospital. This was a wrong number as I am not and never have been called Mary.

I have been feeling out of sorts today. I have had some news that although not altogether unexpected still shook me up a bit. I felt the need for cake. So before putting out my books I went to the shop. I was wandering around at a slow plod when my phone went off again.

This time it was the doctor I spoke to 2 weeks ago. She apologised that everything wasn’t progressing as fast as she had hoped. My latest blood test shows that my iron level is steady. Still very low due to iron deficiency.

She has prescribed iron tablets but I’m not to start them until I have had my telephone consultation with the hospital. Depending on how they want to proceed the iron tablets might be a no no. She says my vitamin b12 is ok, on the low end of the range but not too low.

At the moment everything hinges on this telephone call on Tuesday. I want to get this sorted out but I’m worried about what it will lead to.

I’m not looking too far into the future just taking it one step at a time.

I had been hoping to write something light hearted today as my last few posts have been a bit depressing. Maybe tomorrow I will have something happier to post.

Alcohol and the family

A couple of days ago I noticed that someone had been having a good look around this blog. Whether it was someone I know or not I don’t know. That someone had looked at lots of posts including one called where has my dad gone.

As i scrolled through the list of posts looked at I knew what most of them were about but this one puzzled me. My dad died in 1995. So it couldn’t be about him. This particular post was written back in 2015.

Reading it again it took me a little while to remember it. I was describing a visit to one of my sons in London. On the way to the flat he shared with his now wife and another couple. They stopped at a local shop. Whilst they were inside (I was waiting outside with my youngest son). A drunk was ejected from the store.

When my other son came out he asked “where has my dad gone?” I knew instinctively what he was on about. Growing up with an alcoholic father had an impact on my boys. This particular son could do a very accurate impression of his dad when he was drunk.

When my two eldest sons were going off to university within a week of each other I wanted to take my boys out for a drink. All four of them chose non alcoholic drinks even though two were old enough to drink and one was 17.

All four boys are now adults (2 are fathers) they do all drink now but only moderately. As a young adult my eldest son used to be the designated driver when out with mates. My second son was usually the one taking care of his drunken mates. Although I have heard a few tales of his drunkenness. My younger two are not keen on alcohol.

Talking about it earlier my mother commented that when she came to our house once when eldest was about 8 or 9 he told her. ” If you have come to see my part time father, he’s at the pub”. It is sad that from a very young age he knew the telephone number of the pub off by heart. ( Before mobile phones).

As a family our lives revolved around the pub even if we were not in one. If we went anywhere at the weekends we had to be back before the pub opened. My husband couldn’t cope with getting there after the door was unlocked. During the day his friends would come and go but he would still be there.

He would frequently phone home to say he would be back in half an hour. Other times he wanted me to fetch him. When I did (with boys in tow) he would need to finish his drink. I always refused to have a drink. Sometimes it would take several hours before he managed to leave. Often I just left him there and went home.

My boys grew up knowing that their father was very good at making promises. Not good at keeping them. They learnt never to expect him to keep a promise. He would buy them play station games or football shirts to make up for not being there. I lost count of the birthdays he missed because he was five minutes away in the pub. I don’t know where he got the money for his guilt gifts. We never had enough money for the bills.

I learnt over the years that everything was an excuse to drink. Bad day at work, good day at work, hot day, wet day. Money worries or me being annoyed with him.

After I divorced him he was upset that he didn’t want to be a weekend father. I said that would be an improvement. He would arrange to see the boys. Not do much the eldest as he was off leading his own life. Frequently he would either cancel seeing them or he wanted them to lend him money for cigarettes or beer or both. When they did see him I would drop them off. Happy to have some me time. It never lasted. I think 2 hours was the longest before I got the plea from them to pick them up.

I am happy to say that he gave up drinking about 4 or maybe it’s 5 years ago now. He is better for it. He is trying hard to rebuild his relationship with his sons and have a good relationship with our grandchildren.

Since i moved back here to live with my mother I see him regularly. He has been a great help to both of us in the last couple of years. I wouldn’t go back to him but we are at least friends now.

Fractured not broken

The other night and it was at night I wrote a post about waiting. I wrote it because I had been reading Abbie Greaves book The end of the Earth. It had taken me back to when I was a young adult. I couldn’t sleep because of the thoughts going round and round in my head. Once I had written it and I apologise I didn’t read it through so there are bound to be errors.

One of my new blogging friends Bitchy after 60 commented that with everything I have been through it would have broken most people.

That post only scratched the surface of what my life has been like in the last 50+ years. I’m not broken yet. I have many emotional fractures and my body is falling apart but nothing has broken me yet.

Last night mother asked if I had experienced depression or anxiety in the last year. The question was in relation to the covid-19 pandemic. The answer is no. I am lucky to have technology that has allowed me to keep in contact with family and friends. I could also order whatever I needed online. I also have plenty to keep me occupied. My garden, reading, knitting etc.

That doesn’t mean I haven’t experienced anxiety or feeling in low spirits. I have but more in respect of my health than the pandemic.