"The night air was fresh, addictive almost. She
took it in with long deep breaths, imagining
that she was drinking the darkness, tasting
the faraway twinkle of the stars. It was a
ritual for her, 3am and here she would be. Sat
on the old metal bench, flaked with rust, the
cold of the metal biting into her flesh through
the cold, cotton pajamas. She sat with her eyes
shut, her head tilted skywards, her body still,
breathing deep regular breaths, gorging
herself on the wind that swept through the
skeletal trees and caressed her skin with an
icy touch.
She would stay at most an hour, whatever the
weather, here she would be, indulging herself
in the cold and the night, drinking the night
air feverently, but never able to sate her
thirst. When she left, she would move languidly
at first, as if awakening from a trance, her
eyes focussing slowly on the grand old house
that was her home, her prison. The house was
faded, worn, crumbling apart on the outside
while the inside desperately clung to life,
just like her. But at 3am every night, she
forgot her pain, her worries and instead she
welcomed the purity of the night, the gaze of
the stars upon her ravaged body.
And every night, she wished the same wish,
that this moment would never end, that she
could stay forever in peace, cradled by the
velvet of the night sky, watched by the ancient
eyes that studded the darkness above.''
Wednesday, 12 November 2008
The bleak life on fentanyl
It's after 5am in the morning, and I have been wanting to update this, but my time online has been severely limited, by pain and by pain medications, which is ironic, I know. I don't know exactly why I feel the need to update, but maybe just a - ''hey, I'm not dead''.
I have some good news, but given this is predominantly a miserable post, I'm saving my good news for when it is official, as at the moment it is still unofficial. So, giving I can actually get on again soon, that will come. It is very good news, but not in any way associated to medicine or health. That would be too good to be true.
I have date to see surgeon on the 22nd of December. They can't trust my GP, they have to see me again. If they turn me down, I'll get the operation via the prison service, because I think I'll kill him. Hell, the prison service would probably get the operation done quicker. Yet another irony in life.
I'm on increased fentanyl, trying out 75mcg at the moment, it's ok, but not great. Will have it made official this week, then keep trying it. I'm hoping to not have to go to 100mcg, I'll be sleeping beauty by then, if I was beautiful that is of course.
I am so miserable. Words can't really describe. I spend days in bed. I want to get up and do things, and I can't - I'm either crippled by pain, or crippled by painkillers. I haven't seen my horses all week. Normally I see them at least once a week. I want to go tomorrow. But it's 5am, and I haven't slept. HUGE irony, as recently I've done nothing but sleep.
My Dad still worries I might just die, he's told me that - and I think it's some strange way of caring, or showing worry. But being told by someone that they think you might just die - and someone who is medically trained. It's not comforting. I'm not eating at the moment, the weight loss is terrific, but I get force fed at times, then I'm sick as can be. I can't win when it comes to food.
I've also had a massive infection in my mouth, starting with a so-far unidentified tooth, that has spread to the facial nerve (right hand side). I'm on my second course of antibiotics for it, and thankfully it's shifting. But my whole face has been in agony - my right eye, my ear, exploding in white hot pain. And yet more irony - why do my painkillers work on my gall bladder but ignore that? I'm back at the dentist in another week or so to try and find out which tooth went into meltdown. I also caused an ulcer/infection because of scrubbing at my teeth to try and relieve the pain, it worked, for around 10 minutes each time on the first night the pain hit. And it was worth it for 10 minutes. But it did cause another infection, separate from the infection that is deep in a root/nerve. That infection is sorted now, thankfully.
I am lonely, spending most of my life asleep means that no one really talks to me. And still, friend wise, I've no one jumping forward to talk. I know everyone is busy with their own things, but hey, I'm nearly in my 5th year of illness, I'm starting to get selfish about friends. It has improved, marginally with one of my friends, but again, I think I now no longer fit in. I may be at a stage where I just have to face facts and say Ok, I don't have any friends, but that's OK. I mean really - this entire year, I've had no friends be there for me. It's been Paul, and Paul alone. I'm trying to claw back what I once had with people, but time has went by too much for it. I'm too bitter. I forgive, easily, but I don't trust easily. And I feel like I've had trust broken, by having pretty much all my friends forget I'm alive. I don't think I can get by that, I'll always remember that the times I needed friendship - and times when I near enough begged for friendship, my friends weren't there. I suppose I should just be glad that I'm not inclined towards suicide thoughts, and really needed friends to help me, because I'd be long buried by now.
My life moves at a sedate pace, I do nothing. I watch TV - a recent habit, I was never big on TV, but now - unable to use the net much (due to the position I sit with laptop) - NOW I watch TV. I watch crime dramas, cartoons. I read, but the words blur, and I fall asleep, but still I perservere. I'm on a crime kick just now. And I play my DS.
I still have little to no money, I am waiting on a date for my tribunal. I do now have good evidence in my favour, but it's all too much to go into just now. Too complicated, too miserable.
Anyways. I'm not dead. That being a good thing is still debatable. I miss my online friends. I miss fluff, and hate missing out on all the things in fluff, and also the point of not playing thus having no gold to buy the new things. It's a silly thing, but upsets me (yes, I know, I have other things I should be upset about, not fluff). I guess I'll play catch up. My laptop refuses to run Webkinz most of the time now, my webkinz are abandoned. I hate that. I miss them so much. I ''saw'' them at the weekend, briefly on Paul's computer.
But good night, good morning. Good whatever, it doesn't matter anymore. I sleep all the time, and weekdays no one really gives a damn about me, so what I do or don't do have no consequence, which goes for online life too.
After I post this, I'm posting a very short fiction scrap I wrote, I may use it in a real story. But I penned it in my head when standing outside on our porch at 3am while the dog peed. And I think my own thoughts got into it as well. For the purposes of the short scrap, I imagine the ''she'' in it to be suffering from skin cancer, a disease that eats away from the outside in.
Take care
I have some good news, but given this is predominantly a miserable post, I'm saving my good news for when it is official, as at the moment it is still unofficial. So, giving I can actually get on again soon, that will come. It is very good news, but not in any way associated to medicine or health. That would be too good to be true.
I have date to see surgeon on the 22nd of December. They can't trust my GP, they have to see me again. If they turn me down, I'll get the operation via the prison service, because I think I'll kill him. Hell, the prison service would probably get the operation done quicker. Yet another irony in life.
I'm on increased fentanyl, trying out 75mcg at the moment, it's ok, but not great. Will have it made official this week, then keep trying it. I'm hoping to not have to go to 100mcg, I'll be sleeping beauty by then, if I was beautiful that is of course.
I am so miserable. Words can't really describe. I spend days in bed. I want to get up and do things, and I can't - I'm either crippled by pain, or crippled by painkillers. I haven't seen my horses all week. Normally I see them at least once a week. I want to go tomorrow. But it's 5am, and I haven't slept. HUGE irony, as recently I've done nothing but sleep.
My Dad still worries I might just die, he's told me that - and I think it's some strange way of caring, or showing worry. But being told by someone that they think you might just die - and someone who is medically trained. It's not comforting. I'm not eating at the moment, the weight loss is terrific, but I get force fed at times, then I'm sick as can be. I can't win when it comes to food.
I've also had a massive infection in my mouth, starting with a so-far unidentified tooth, that has spread to the facial nerve (right hand side). I'm on my second course of antibiotics for it, and thankfully it's shifting. But my whole face has been in agony - my right eye, my ear, exploding in white hot pain. And yet more irony - why do my painkillers work on my gall bladder but ignore that? I'm back at the dentist in another week or so to try and find out which tooth went into meltdown. I also caused an ulcer/infection because of scrubbing at my teeth to try and relieve the pain, it worked, for around 10 minutes each time on the first night the pain hit. And it was worth it for 10 minutes. But it did cause another infection, separate from the infection that is deep in a root/nerve. That infection is sorted now, thankfully.
I am lonely, spending most of my life asleep means that no one really talks to me. And still, friend wise, I've no one jumping forward to talk. I know everyone is busy with their own things, but hey, I'm nearly in my 5th year of illness, I'm starting to get selfish about friends. It has improved, marginally with one of my friends, but again, I think I now no longer fit in. I may be at a stage where I just have to face facts and say Ok, I don't have any friends, but that's OK. I mean really - this entire year, I've had no friends be there for me. It's been Paul, and Paul alone. I'm trying to claw back what I once had with people, but time has went by too much for it. I'm too bitter. I forgive, easily, but I don't trust easily. And I feel like I've had trust broken, by having pretty much all my friends forget I'm alive. I don't think I can get by that, I'll always remember that the times I needed friendship - and times when I near enough begged for friendship, my friends weren't there. I suppose I should just be glad that I'm not inclined towards suicide thoughts, and really needed friends to help me, because I'd be long buried by now.
My life moves at a sedate pace, I do nothing. I watch TV - a recent habit, I was never big on TV, but now - unable to use the net much (due to the position I sit with laptop) - NOW I watch TV. I watch crime dramas, cartoons. I read, but the words blur, and I fall asleep, but still I perservere. I'm on a crime kick just now. And I play my DS.
I still have little to no money, I am waiting on a date for my tribunal. I do now have good evidence in my favour, but it's all too much to go into just now. Too complicated, too miserable.
Anyways. I'm not dead. That being a good thing is still debatable. I miss my online friends. I miss fluff, and hate missing out on all the things in fluff, and also the point of not playing thus having no gold to buy the new things. It's a silly thing, but upsets me (yes, I know, I have other things I should be upset about, not fluff). I guess I'll play catch up. My laptop refuses to run Webkinz most of the time now, my webkinz are abandoned. I hate that. I miss them so much. I ''saw'' them at the weekend, briefly on Paul's computer.
But good night, good morning. Good whatever, it doesn't matter anymore. I sleep all the time, and weekdays no one really gives a damn about me, so what I do or don't do have no consequence, which goes for online life too.
After I post this, I'm posting a very short fiction scrap I wrote, I may use it in a real story. But I penned it in my head when standing outside on our porch at 3am while the dog peed. And I think my own thoughts got into it as well. For the purposes of the short scrap, I imagine the ''she'' in it to be suffering from skin cancer, a disease that eats away from the outside in.
Take care
Sunday, 19 October 2008
No money, health worse, operation possible, drugs doubled
It's been awhile and I'm not sure where to start, there's been a lot happening and a lot of nothing happening, so I think I'll just do sections of different things, and hope people read it through.
First up, and something I'd rather not discuss because it makes me mad is my benefits. Remember I had a medical way back in July? Well they decided that I failed. I got a copy of the medical, the Doctor wrote down nothing of what I said, the same Doctor who refused to examine me. I won't go into all the details, because I want to sleep tonight and not be sitting angry at the world. As it is - I'm appealing the decision, I lost the first appeal - made by a non-medically trained wanker, having spoken to the guy, the term ''wanker'' isn't an insult, just an observation and almost certainly a factual statement given his attitude, no woman or man would stay him. I now get hardly any money - and it goes to second set of appeals, which can take upto 6 months AND is in Glasgow. It's all nonsense, and as I'm now much iller - it's all things I could do without. I want to die enough *without* this stress, adding this in just makes me despair.
Talking of health, it gives me a nice link to well, talking about my health. My health is poor. There is really no other way to put it. I am very ill at times, to the point that my Dad, in his helpful, caring way has told me that I could drop dead. While I see his point, I do believe there could be better ways to phrase it. I've had my medical doubled - so I'm now on 50mcg of Fentanyl, which works in a so-so way but makes me VERY sleepy. It may get increased again, which I'm not looking forward to. Spend my life comatose. I have had some extremely bad attacks, including one where Paul was desperate for me to go to hospital, he believed my parents would take me (so did I) - he dropped me off, Dad had been drinking so couldn't take me and Mum initially said she would, then wormed out of it. As I'd said she would in previous conversations with Dad. So I never went, and instead lay about the house in agony and wailing in pain. I worry a lot about my health, and perhaps I should be in hospital, but I've gone beyond caring, that night about 2 weeks ago. I wanted to go to hospital, and I didn't get to go. I felt like I was dying. Now, I just don't care.
While I am very negative about my health, there is some good news - my weight is down and my (new) GP is writing to the hospital to put me back on the operation list. I really hope it goes through this time, I could get my life back. I could do things again, I could enjoy a drink, I can plan ahead, save money, buy people things - and generally just live the life of a 20-something, rather than the life of a house-bound invalid that I have just now. So please, if you pray or just send good thoughts, do it about this. I need this operation. If I don't get it - there is a great certainty that I will die from complications of my gall bladder. My gall bladder will eventually rupture, and from that point on survival becomes near impossible. The operation will give me my life back - and will also save my life. And I really don't want to die from my gall bladder, there's too much I want to do. So, in short - I should be getting an operation soon, or at least I'm pinning my hopes on it.
First up, and something I'd rather not discuss because it makes me mad is my benefits. Remember I had a medical way back in July? Well they decided that I failed. I got a copy of the medical, the Doctor wrote down nothing of what I said, the same Doctor who refused to examine me. I won't go into all the details, because I want to sleep tonight and not be sitting angry at the world. As it is - I'm appealing the decision, I lost the first appeal - made by a non-medically trained wanker, having spoken to the guy, the term ''wanker'' isn't an insult, just an observation and almost certainly a factual statement given his attitude, no woman or man would stay him. I now get hardly any money - and it goes to second set of appeals, which can take upto 6 months AND is in Glasgow. It's all nonsense, and as I'm now much iller - it's all things I could do without. I want to die enough *without* this stress, adding this in just makes me despair.
Talking of health, it gives me a nice link to well, talking about my health. My health is poor. There is really no other way to put it. I am very ill at times, to the point that my Dad, in his helpful, caring way has told me that I could drop dead. While I see his point, I do believe there could be better ways to phrase it. I've had my medical doubled - so I'm now on 50mcg of Fentanyl, which works in a so-so way but makes me VERY sleepy. It may get increased again, which I'm not looking forward to. Spend my life comatose. I have had some extremely bad attacks, including one where Paul was desperate for me to go to hospital, he believed my parents would take me (so did I) - he dropped me off, Dad had been drinking so couldn't take me and Mum initially said she would, then wormed out of it. As I'd said she would in previous conversations with Dad. So I never went, and instead lay about the house in agony and wailing in pain. I worry a lot about my health, and perhaps I should be in hospital, but I've gone beyond caring, that night about 2 weeks ago. I wanted to go to hospital, and I didn't get to go. I felt like I was dying. Now, I just don't care.
While I am very negative about my health, there is some good news - my weight is down and my (new) GP is writing to the hospital to put me back on the operation list. I really hope it goes through this time, I could get my life back. I could do things again, I could enjoy a drink, I can plan ahead, save money, buy people things - and generally just live the life of a 20-something, rather than the life of a house-bound invalid that I have just now. So please, if you pray or just send good thoughts, do it about this. I need this operation. If I don't get it - there is a great certainty that I will die from complications of my gall bladder. My gall bladder will eventually rupture, and from that point on survival becomes near impossible. The operation will give me my life back - and will also save my life. And I really don't want to die from my gall bladder, there's too much I want to do. So, in short - I should be getting an operation soon, or at least I'm pinning my hopes on it.
Sunday, 21 September 2008
Pretty Harvey -- followed by misery
This was Harvey around the end of August. He's filled out some - and is looking as flashy as ever. Look at the knee action on him! He really lifts his feet, and he prances everywhere. I'm looking forward to him being a grown-up. And while at the moment I find it hard to get excited about anything, I'm looking forward to his future. We've still got to get him gelded, which I need to book. I just fall behind with everything, out of general lethargy more than anything. But Harvey does make me feel better, I like the way he looks at me. With his big searching blue eyes, he really conveys emotion well. And reminds me so much of Pepi, my shetland pony who had blue eyes and a similar temperament.
Away from Harvey, I just started with him as I wanted to post his picture. Things aren't any different. I don't know. I just don't care anymore. I wish I did. I used to care about a lot of things. I was passionate about things. Now, well - it seems everything goes wrong. Regardless of what I do or don't do. With that in mind, I really don't see the point in trying any more. And I am just fed up. It's been too long, and now it's getting too bad.
I get mad when I speak to people who say ''Oh, I had my gall bladder out, I know how you feel'' - well, no, you don't. Because you've had yours removed. And likely, or at least on average, you've suffered one or two attacks prior to having it removed. At worst, maybe a few months. Me? Come January 2009 I will have been having bad attacks for 5 years. I had attacks prior to that as well, I just didn't recognise them. I start my counting from the point of being hospitalised for near-liver failure, and it has been 5 years since that point, with complications and daily painkillers ever since. I have lost my 20s to this. So no, these people don't know how I feel, nor can they adequetely sympathise. I've got to the point where I grimace upon being told these things, I mean my gall bladder is so fucked it doesn't even show up on the FOOL PROOF scan that shows up problems in gall bladders. My result for that scan was ''patient doesn't have a gall bladder'' - yet here I am, most definitely still in possession of gall bladder.
I have changed a lot in the years that have gone past. And while I have calmed down and became more sensible - grown up, you might say. I have definitely lost a lot - I lack in confidence, in self esteem. I lack in energy, in caring about things. And I have lost all these years where I could have made my life my own. I feel trapped in this limbo where I can't do anything, my life is at the mercy of gall bladder. And I can't make plans for post-operation (if I ever get one) - because what if something goes wrong. Given I believe it will, I daren't make plans for my life once I'm ''fixed'' because I don't believe I ever will be fixed. And thinking ''is this it then?'' well - that would depress anyone.
But I guess I'll go to sleep. It's one of the few constants left. And maybe if I'm lucky, I'll get to a point where I won't wake up. Or wake up when someone is willing to remove my gall bladder, or even better, wake up AFTER it's gone.
Thursday, 18 September 2008
why bother
I wanted to update last night, but suffered an injury to my wrist (caused by Jake, my dog) - and typing was painful. I kept an ice pack on for hours, so typing was also a bit well, wet - and today while my wrist is a bit stiff, and still swollen and obviously bruised - typing doesn't hurt that bad. I get a few twinges, but given it felt like it had been broken last night - today is good.
I slept all day today. I just couldn't wake up at all, patch kept knocking me out. I kept trying to wake up, but kept dropping back to sleep. When I finally did manage to stay awake, I came downstairs just in time for Mum to have mad turn. My Mum gets depressed, but she does nothing about it. She blames everyone else for everything, acts dreadfully towards us, in a really nasty way, then wants everything done for her. She has aches and pains and does nothing for it, at all. She wants to be an invalid, and then gets upset when we won't support her wanting to be an invalid, when she's not and can do things, she just doesn't want to. So after her sitting crying and blaming everyone for everything, she went to bed. At about 6pm. It wasn't worth getting up. Dad said she'd been looking for an excuse all day to go off on one. And I hate her when she's like that. And the problem is, if she ever has a real issue - she cries wolf so often, we'd never know.
So it's been miserable. I'm having multiple attacks per day, so really waking up isn't worthwhile. There's been good things (amazing things, wonderful things) this week. But RL is beating off me over the head, constantly.
Retail therapy has happened as well, my saving is going badly. I bought 5 cheap books and a DS game. I spent more than I wanted to. But fuck it, if I can buy some happiness, I'll buy it. I think I'm just buying escapism - games and books.
Anyways - I am of the opinion that life isn't worthwhile at the moment. I don't know how to fix it. I just want to go into a coma and wake up in a few years.
I slept all day today. I just couldn't wake up at all, patch kept knocking me out. I kept trying to wake up, but kept dropping back to sleep. When I finally did manage to stay awake, I came downstairs just in time for Mum to have mad turn. My Mum gets depressed, but she does nothing about it. She blames everyone else for everything, acts dreadfully towards us, in a really nasty way, then wants everything done for her. She has aches and pains and does nothing for it, at all. She wants to be an invalid, and then gets upset when we won't support her wanting to be an invalid, when she's not and can do things, she just doesn't want to. So after her sitting crying and blaming everyone for everything, she went to bed. At about 6pm. It wasn't worth getting up. Dad said she'd been looking for an excuse all day to go off on one. And I hate her when she's like that. And the problem is, if she ever has a real issue - she cries wolf so often, we'd never know.
So it's been miserable. I'm having multiple attacks per day, so really waking up isn't worthwhile. There's been good things (amazing things, wonderful things) this week. But RL is beating off me over the head, constantly.
Retail therapy has happened as well, my saving is going badly. I bought 5 cheap books and a DS game. I spent more than I wanted to. But fuck it, if I can buy some happiness, I'll buy it. I think I'm just buying escapism - games and books.
Anyways - I am of the opinion that life isn't worthwhile at the moment. I don't know how to fix it. I just want to go into a coma and wake up in a few years.
Monday, 15 September 2008
Seeking friendship
About 4am or so in the morning I had a thought, or more a minor breakdown. I was thinking about friends and friendships and my lack thereof, at least in the sense of a ''real life'' friend in the flesh. Not that I consider online friendships any less so, quite the contray, my online friendships are perhaps the real ones, compared to the false ''real life'' in-the-flesh ones. Certainly - my online friends talk to me more, keep in touch more and generally just care more.
Prior to becoming the forgotton friend, my ''best'' friend was Becca. We'd do lots of things together, and every Thursday night we'd spend together, make some food or just do something. It was most of the time at her house, which I drove to, if not - I'd drive and we'd go somewhere. I didn't mind this - she had the two kids, and it was always easier for me to come to her. And I do prefer making things easier for people when I can. Then I was less able to drive, between my eyesight and general illness and our Thursday nights fell away, as did all other times to see each other. It wasn't even that gradual a process, it just seemed like I became too difficult to be a friend with - too much effort was required, which is perhaps wrong of me to say - but it is how I ended up feeling. I know she is/was busy, but I wouldn't even get a text message, or reply to ones I'd sent. It was a definate feeling of being shunned in the face of new friends with less issues.
I always felt that when friends became ill or whatever that was when friends were meant to be there for them, when times got hard etc. Certainly early in my illness, friends showed some interest, but then it was new, as time wore on, people seemed to get fed up with me being ill. Which fair enough - I'm more than fed up with me being ill too, but complete social isolation just makes matters worse.
So at 4am, I composed a series of text messages to Becca, trying to explain how I felt, while trying not to throw about blame. She's also pregnant - due in October - so I know she's busy, and has her own health issues at the moment. But in that - she's also more able to see what I'm saying. I wrote my message at 4am, then come around 11am - I re-wrote it and sent it. I forget exactly what I said, but it went along the lines of - I was lonely and missed seeing friends, and spending time with friends. That the last time I had been alone with a friend was last autumn when I went to the bingo with her. That I know she's busy and has her own things on, but if she has time/ability - I'd love to be able to see her and have someone to talk to. That I've felt really lonely and down this year - and lack of having friends about has been a huge thing in it - especially with things that have happened - I had Baileigh's death and no support from friends, and I truly felt like just wanting to curl up and die.
I worded it better than it sounds above, but that was a gist of it. I need friends for support, I always have. Of late it's just been my parents and Paul, and I can't be honest with them. There's always got to be a brave face on things, the ''no, it's ok, I'm fine'' - way of life, because I don't want them to worry, mainly because they already do. Not that I want a friend to worry, but I want someone I can just talk to, without the pretences. I can be almost honest with Paul, but he worries so much that I can't be 100% honest to him, because it hurts him.
I was worried about her reply. I always am when I send messages like that, but she replied saying that she's been lonely as well since Lauren (her youngest) went back to nursery and about going out next week to the bingo. I'm hoping it works out and I get to see her, and maybe it can be somewhat regular. Well I realise it won't be, due to baby and things, but I'd like to at least keep in touch, by phone or whatever. Like I exist, and don't go ignored.
She did say in her reply text that she thought I'd been seeing other friends, like Cara etc. I don't know if that was just her feeling guilty - in that she was saying sorry in a strange fashion of - but I thought other friends gave a shit. Now, in the terms of Cara, she has no transport, no mobile phone, and she is a darling. She's online a fair bit and we do talk. But she's also pregnant and 19, me dropping a world of misery on her head, when I've known her since she was 4 - I don't want to do that. I love her, and she's a good friend, but she's not a friend I can be that honest with. I have a ''face'' to uphold with her, to still be in a way the person I was to her when she was little.
But as a breakdown - the last time I saw a friend and spent time with a friend was in July with Becca, who had the kids with her. It was nice and fun, but hard to sit and talk due to kids about. Prior to that Gill came out to see Harvey, and Cara saw Harvey. Harvey by the way - seems to have more people interested in seeing him than me. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't have seen Becca either. Before Harvey - I can't remember the last time I saw a friend, was probably Becca around Easter time. Most 'friends' I haven't seen this year. My other ''best'' friend I doubt I'll see until Christmas, if I see her then at all. Maybe I just kept the wrong friends?
And I know all of the above is very much filled with self pity and the like, but it does become so depressing when your world has 3 people in it and 2 buildings. Barring feeling like shit all the time, it ends up that it doesn't seem worth going on. I love the 3 people I have - and of course the people online who do keep me going, but I want to meet people, talk in the flesh, have a laugh. Really, having a laugh would be lovely. Just to sit and laugh with someone. Anyone. I'm not fussy. If I was brave enough, I'd haul someone off the street.
Anyways - tomorrow I might actually be going out. I'm a member of a Writer's Circle, which while it gets me out the house, into a portacabin, and I would call the people there friends, it's not the same type of friendship. All of the members are older - when I say older I mean 50+, with average age being around 65. So I can't be me. I have to be a refined, polite version of me. I can say I'm not well, I can't do details, and I just smile and nod and talk. I know I'm liked there, but sometimes I find it more stressful than enjoyable. I can't even write any more due to the drugs I have to take that turn my brain to mush. But I know they like me going, I'm young, I'm good for the image. I also might get to go back to dog class, where I have acquantances, but no real friends yet. I'm hoping to make friends there, but I haven't quite got that far.
So I guess, I should get myself to sleep. Rather than wallowing in self misery. I will try to do a happy post tomorrow, or at least something more upbeat (it wouldn't be hard based on this and previous).
Prior to becoming the forgotton friend, my ''best'' friend was Becca. We'd do lots of things together, and every Thursday night we'd spend together, make some food or just do something. It was most of the time at her house, which I drove to, if not - I'd drive and we'd go somewhere. I didn't mind this - she had the two kids, and it was always easier for me to come to her. And I do prefer making things easier for people when I can. Then I was less able to drive, between my eyesight and general illness and our Thursday nights fell away, as did all other times to see each other. It wasn't even that gradual a process, it just seemed like I became too difficult to be a friend with - too much effort was required, which is perhaps wrong of me to say - but it is how I ended up feeling. I know she is/was busy, but I wouldn't even get a text message, or reply to ones I'd sent. It was a definate feeling of being shunned in the face of new friends with less issues.
I always felt that when friends became ill or whatever that was when friends were meant to be there for them, when times got hard etc. Certainly early in my illness, friends showed some interest, but then it was new, as time wore on, people seemed to get fed up with me being ill. Which fair enough - I'm more than fed up with me being ill too, but complete social isolation just makes matters worse.
So at 4am, I composed a series of text messages to Becca, trying to explain how I felt, while trying not to throw about blame. She's also pregnant - due in October - so I know she's busy, and has her own health issues at the moment. But in that - she's also more able to see what I'm saying. I wrote my message at 4am, then come around 11am - I re-wrote it and sent it. I forget exactly what I said, but it went along the lines of - I was lonely and missed seeing friends, and spending time with friends. That the last time I had been alone with a friend was last autumn when I went to the bingo with her. That I know she's busy and has her own things on, but if she has time/ability - I'd love to be able to see her and have someone to talk to. That I've felt really lonely and down this year - and lack of having friends about has been a huge thing in it - especially with things that have happened - I had Baileigh's death and no support from friends, and I truly felt like just wanting to curl up and die.
I worded it better than it sounds above, but that was a gist of it. I need friends for support, I always have. Of late it's just been my parents and Paul, and I can't be honest with them. There's always got to be a brave face on things, the ''no, it's ok, I'm fine'' - way of life, because I don't want them to worry, mainly because they already do. Not that I want a friend to worry, but I want someone I can just talk to, without the pretences. I can be almost honest with Paul, but he worries so much that I can't be 100% honest to him, because it hurts him.
I was worried about her reply. I always am when I send messages like that, but she replied saying that she's been lonely as well since Lauren (her youngest) went back to nursery and about going out next week to the bingo. I'm hoping it works out and I get to see her, and maybe it can be somewhat regular. Well I realise it won't be, due to baby and things, but I'd like to at least keep in touch, by phone or whatever. Like I exist, and don't go ignored.
She did say in her reply text that she thought I'd been seeing other friends, like Cara etc. I don't know if that was just her feeling guilty - in that she was saying sorry in a strange fashion of - but I thought other friends gave a shit. Now, in the terms of Cara, she has no transport, no mobile phone, and she is a darling. She's online a fair bit and we do talk. But she's also pregnant and 19, me dropping a world of misery on her head, when I've known her since she was 4 - I don't want to do that. I love her, and she's a good friend, but she's not a friend I can be that honest with. I have a ''face'' to uphold with her, to still be in a way the person I was to her when she was little.
But as a breakdown - the last time I saw a friend and spent time with a friend was in July with Becca, who had the kids with her. It was nice and fun, but hard to sit and talk due to kids about. Prior to that Gill came out to see Harvey, and Cara saw Harvey. Harvey by the way - seems to have more people interested in seeing him than me. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't have seen Becca either. Before Harvey - I can't remember the last time I saw a friend, was probably Becca around Easter time. Most 'friends' I haven't seen this year. My other ''best'' friend I doubt I'll see until Christmas, if I see her then at all. Maybe I just kept the wrong friends?
And I know all of the above is very much filled with self pity and the like, but it does become so depressing when your world has 3 people in it and 2 buildings. Barring feeling like shit all the time, it ends up that it doesn't seem worth going on. I love the 3 people I have - and of course the people online who do keep me going, but I want to meet people, talk in the flesh, have a laugh. Really, having a laugh would be lovely. Just to sit and laugh with someone. Anyone. I'm not fussy. If I was brave enough, I'd haul someone off the street.
Anyways - tomorrow I might actually be going out. I'm a member of a Writer's Circle, which while it gets me out the house, into a portacabin, and I would call the people there friends, it's not the same type of friendship. All of the members are older - when I say older I mean 50+, with average age being around 65. So I can't be me. I have to be a refined, polite version of me. I can say I'm not well, I can't do details, and I just smile and nod and talk. I know I'm liked there, but sometimes I find it more stressful than enjoyable. I can't even write any more due to the drugs I have to take that turn my brain to mush. But I know they like me going, I'm young, I'm good for the image. I also might get to go back to dog class, where I have acquantances, but no real friends yet. I'm hoping to make friends there, but I haven't quite got that far.
So I guess, I should get myself to sleep. Rather than wallowing in self misery. I will try to do a happy post tomorrow, or at least something more upbeat (it wouldn't be hard based on this and previous).
Sunday, 14 September 2008
Wishing for something to make me happy
Oneday soon, I'm sure I will get a break. In the past week, or so, the following has happened:
- I have had a badly infected foot, toe and tendon, involving a trip to casualty, a week of no walking and two courses of antibiotics. My foot still has slight swelling and pain along the tendon, but *fingers crossed* it is now completely on the mend.
- My Nana's dog, Shona died. She was a 13 year old Yorkshire Terrier. My Nana found her dead in the kitchen returning from a trip to town with my cousin. Shona died most likely from a heart attack, but as we have a small family, even the animals form a large role. She was part of my life for 13 years, so, it is upsetting to lose her.
- I have suffered daily gall bladder attacks, with a number of extreme attacks. In all honesty, hospital should have been considered. But I didn't. Instead, I took drugs, I suffered and I slept.
Mentally I am perhaps as bad as I've been. I'm unsure if it is my drugs - which can have depression as a side-effect, or if it simply something that was inevitable. Come January 2009, I will have been sick for five years. Over this time, my life has eroded away. I cling to what I have, and that in itself is not much. I have my family and I have Paul and I have my animals. And that is it.
Friendship wise - I have friends, but for those in real life - I don't rank very high. I'm sure they care, or at least believe they care, but their actions say different. It is harsh to say such things, as with all my friendships - I was always the one who travelled to them. I cannot drive safely now, so I never see anyone. Now, I realise my friends have their own lives - but one of my ''best'' friends, I haven't seen since last Christmas - and that was only to exchange presents. My other ''best'' friend, I have seen perhaps 5 or 6 times this year, and that is only out of guilt, I believe.
But I get off course, although those are things which upset me. I have been totally morbid of late. I believe that I will die due to this illness. Perhaps it was the insistence of my consultant who told me outright I would die (professional behaviour? hmm), or just continual pain, plus drugs and a life that is going nowhere is making me feel this way. Some days, I honestly would rather be dead. I'm at a point where I don't want to keep going. I want to stop, I'm fed up, I want to be pain-free - I want to be drug-free. I can't remember what either of those are like. It seems like a surreal dream to have a life where I'm not popping pills or feeling stabbing pains in my body.
I don't worry about dying, I don't care anymore. Which is honest. I do care about what my death would do to those around me. I worry that Paul would kill himself. He's said he would, in a semi-joking fashion, but his sister's death sent him to suicide. I am as much his life, as he is mine, I don't know how he would want to go - that's not me being big headed, but if he died, I'd want to die too. I don't think my parents would cope well either. My Dad is my best friend, and I, his. I don't want to die, don't get me wrong. I have so many dreams and desires and wishes, but I'm so fed up. I wouldn't actively seek death, but the way I feel, I wouldn't fight against it.
Argh, I shouldn't write blog updates while I'm sore. It's just a bad idea. I have pains wracking all down my right side, with stabbing pains going straight across my gall bladder. I have taken all the painkillers I safely can. I could take more, but I worry about overdosing. While I would not turn away death, as I said above, I don't want to lead to my own. I just want to not suffer. And I don't think that is a big thing to ask. I'm fed up of suffering, I'm fed up sitting here thinking like this.
To sound completely corny - I would like to be happy, but being happy while being in pain is really difficult. I can't brush it off now, I find it harder to hide as well. I used to be able to hide being in pain, now I burst into tears. While also being unable to walk. Every attack cripples my back, and I walk like an old woman, while my breath hitches and my nose runs. It isn't my best look. I hate being who I am just now.
I hate that my sole topic of conversation of late is my health, is of pain and is of drugs. No wonder people don't talk to me, I'm not cheery and I know the last thing people seem to want to hear about is health. But I don't talk about it in real life, or I try not to, online I've been trying to stop as well, well, except here, because I don't want to even start thinking about what others must feel about me constantly going on about me. It must seem like I only care about my own health etc, but I don't. I just need to let it out, and being unable to walk to the top of a mountain to scream, I need to talk, I just have no one to talk to it about.
I also hate feeling so sorry for myself. I hate weakness and self pity - and that is what I have became - someone who is weak and filled with self pity. I really wish things were different, but before I deteriorate further - I'm going to call it a night.
Wednesday, 3 September 2008
today was a bad day healthwise
To quote my Dad I was ''in a very bad way earlier''.
It started up the field, I'd felt pretty rotten all day, and had slept for most of the day until getting ready to go up the field (I got some nice pictures of Harvey, but won't be posting them today). It was after I'd taken Harvey for a tiny walk that I was starting to feel really bad, as in having to do breathing exercises to try to maintain composure bad. Dad rushed us home, and hell, REALLY rushed us home. So I could go be sick, and well other things that are too much information, then I passed out on my bed.
Not long after, Paul turned up - as he does on Wednesday nights, and I was so out of it. The attack had taken everything out of me, and I just lay sleeping in his arms between accidently nudging him out of the bed (it's a single and I have a big bum!). After dinner I felt rotten again, went to the loo and felt a bit better then came back through to the bedroom and promptly fell asleep again. He left at about 8pm, leaving me sleeping and I got up at 10pm to have some tea.
I still feel really rough, so tired. All I want to do is sleep, sleep forever. I get the distinct feeling that I'm nearing another should be hospitalised point, I get this bad every few months, and every few months I tell myself I'll go in if it gets worse. I'm not sure how much longer I can keep kidding myself. It gets to the point where I genuinely begin to think, I could die followed by - well, at least it won't be painful. Knowing my luck, I'd die screaming in agony - so I really shouldn't think these things.
Anyways, I'd only came on to check eBay, as I'm bidding on webkinz which I can ill afford. I also want to buy books, despite having hundreds unread. Basically I want to comfort shop, which when you can't afford it - gets dangerous. However, I'm off to look at Amazon.co.uk and maybe I'll order something. Before I fall asleep, which is becoming very close, as even writing this, my eyes are shutting.
It started up the field, I'd felt pretty rotten all day, and had slept for most of the day until getting ready to go up the field (I got some nice pictures of Harvey, but won't be posting them today). It was after I'd taken Harvey for a tiny walk that I was starting to feel really bad, as in having to do breathing exercises to try to maintain composure bad. Dad rushed us home, and hell, REALLY rushed us home. So I could go be sick, and well other things that are too much information, then I passed out on my bed.
Not long after, Paul turned up - as he does on Wednesday nights, and I was so out of it. The attack had taken everything out of me, and I just lay sleeping in his arms between accidently nudging him out of the bed (it's a single and I have a big bum!). After dinner I felt rotten again, went to the loo and felt a bit better then came back through to the bedroom and promptly fell asleep again. He left at about 8pm, leaving me sleeping and I got up at 10pm to have some tea.
I still feel really rough, so tired. All I want to do is sleep, sleep forever. I get the distinct feeling that I'm nearing another should be hospitalised point, I get this bad every few months, and every few months I tell myself I'll go in if it gets worse. I'm not sure how much longer I can keep kidding myself. It gets to the point where I genuinely begin to think, I could die followed by - well, at least it won't be painful. Knowing my luck, I'd die screaming in agony - so I really shouldn't think these things.
Anyways, I'd only came on to check eBay, as I'm bidding on webkinz which I can ill afford. I also want to buy books, despite having hundreds unread. Basically I want to comfort shop, which when you can't afford it - gets dangerous. However, I'm off to look at Amazon.co.uk and maybe I'll order something. Before I fall asleep, which is becoming very close, as even writing this, my eyes are shutting.
Tuesday, 2 September 2008
''Holiday'' and Party and not being able to cope
It feels like I've been offline for an eternity, and between being ill and just being scatterbrained, I can't get my shit together. Even just to blog. How bad is that? I have all the hours in the day, and still, it's 23.28pm and I'm just trying to blog - 2 days after coming back from my time away. I swear, when I'm fixed and actually able to work, I won't know how to time manage. And damn, I used to be quite good at it. I may have looked like a blue-arsed fly, but inside, I was kinda organised!
Anyways - enough of the babbling. Well, enough of the nonsensical babbling. I've been away on ''holiday'' then at a weekend party (which was amazing, as usual!). The holiday was with my Nana, and we went to a hotel in Forfar. I feel bad that we didn't get much done throughout the week, but I now realise that trying to holiday with a grandmother while absolutely buggered on drugs just isn't a good time to holiday. I knew this before I went, the reason I went is because she's 87 - and really, at that age, you can't keep putting things off. And I would never want to be in the position where I put things off for so long that she died waiting. Unfortunately it meant it wasn't the best holiday, and I didn't really enjoy it - which I felt guilty about.
In all honesty, the holiday was hell on Earth. Not because I was with my Nana, while she is er, unique, I do enjoy time with her, although she can get irritating. But I was sick, I was tired, I was stressed, and I was losing the plot - quite seriously. I've never had a real mental breakdown, but I think I came close last week. I was randomly bursting into tears, I told my Nana it was my gall bladder, but it wasn't. Yes, I was sore, but I was tired and I was exhausted, and I couldn't cope. I would be sitting having tea with her, and I'd be fighting back having a mental collapse. I've never felt like that in my life, and I felt so guilty - that me being like that was ruining her holiday. It happened daily, I just couldn't cope. We went shopping in Dundee, in the shopping mall, I had to hang up on my Mum on the phone because I was about to become a wreck, I was fighting back tears talking to my Nana, trying not to show her because I didn't want her to worry, while trying to do things like count Webkinz in my head or sing nursery rhymes mentally or biting my lip or my tongue to try and take my mind off things. And this was a *holiday*. On the way back from that shopping trip, I got lost, and I had to really fight back having a panic attack, because I was lost, and I couldn't see the road signs. I shouldn't have been on the road at all, but explaining that to my Nana was impossible. Later that same night, I was lying in bed, silently sobbing, with a towel and a lil kinz, and stroking this damn teddy and texting Paul complaining it wasn't big enough to cuddle. The next day I bought myself two soft toy kittens, because world be damned, I might be 26 and buying teddies, but I was buying sanity.
So yeah, that was my holiday. I still feel riddled with guilt over the fact I couldn't make it a real holiday for her, but I can't stop being ill. And clearly, I just can't cope - drugs, illness etc - I'd like to think I could cope, but I can't. And that in itself was one of the hardest things to swallow, I'm not keen on being weak, and that was hugely weak. Needless to say, while I missed her after we came back, I was glad it was over. I was rundown, stressed and just wanted to sleep for days - but I couldn't, as it was the castle weekend, and I really wanted to go.
So Paul and I went, and as usual, it was good fun. I hated the fact I was so tired that I couldn't get involved in as much as I'd like. Although I went to bed earlyish on the Friday night, we didn't actually sleep till much, much later. Thus, we didn't get up until mid-afternoon Saturday. Saturday night however, I couldn't keep going, and before midnight I was in my bed. I had a sore foot, a sore gall bladder and I was back to the tearful state, I was better off in bed, reading my book and just relaxing. So I did. Paul stayed out till half 2, by which point I'd long since fell asleep on top of my book with the light on. I slept till around 2pm Sunday, proving that I needed the sleep.
On the matters of sleep - I slept till 2pm on Monday, and today despite being up at 9am for the Doctor - and being in bed early the night before, I was asleep again by 10am, and woke up at 3pm, and I'm still so tired. And stupidly, the Doctor today asked me if I was coping and I said yes. I don't know who I am trying to kid. I look like shit. Anyways, on that note, and feeling sorry for myself and wishing I was able to be different to how I am, I'm going to put myself to bed.
Anyways - enough of the babbling. Well, enough of the nonsensical babbling. I've been away on ''holiday'' then at a weekend party (which was amazing, as usual!). The holiday was with my Nana, and we went to a hotel in Forfar. I feel bad that we didn't get much done throughout the week, but I now realise that trying to holiday with a grandmother while absolutely buggered on drugs just isn't a good time to holiday. I knew this before I went, the reason I went is because she's 87 - and really, at that age, you can't keep putting things off. And I would never want to be in the position where I put things off for so long that she died waiting. Unfortunately it meant it wasn't the best holiday, and I didn't really enjoy it - which I felt guilty about.
In all honesty, the holiday was hell on Earth. Not because I was with my Nana, while she is er, unique, I do enjoy time with her, although she can get irritating. But I was sick, I was tired, I was stressed, and I was losing the plot - quite seriously. I've never had a real mental breakdown, but I think I came close last week. I was randomly bursting into tears, I told my Nana it was my gall bladder, but it wasn't. Yes, I was sore, but I was tired and I was exhausted, and I couldn't cope. I would be sitting having tea with her, and I'd be fighting back having a mental collapse. I've never felt like that in my life, and I felt so guilty - that me being like that was ruining her holiday. It happened daily, I just couldn't cope. We went shopping in Dundee, in the shopping mall, I had to hang up on my Mum on the phone because I was about to become a wreck, I was fighting back tears talking to my Nana, trying not to show her because I didn't want her to worry, while trying to do things like count Webkinz in my head or sing nursery rhymes mentally or biting my lip or my tongue to try and take my mind off things. And this was a *holiday*. On the way back from that shopping trip, I got lost, and I had to really fight back having a panic attack, because I was lost, and I couldn't see the road signs. I shouldn't have been on the road at all, but explaining that to my Nana was impossible. Later that same night, I was lying in bed, silently sobbing, with a towel and a lil kinz, and stroking this damn teddy and texting Paul complaining it wasn't big enough to cuddle. The next day I bought myself two soft toy kittens, because world be damned, I might be 26 and buying teddies, but I was buying sanity.
So yeah, that was my holiday. I still feel riddled with guilt over the fact I couldn't make it a real holiday for her, but I can't stop being ill. And clearly, I just can't cope - drugs, illness etc - I'd like to think I could cope, but I can't. And that in itself was one of the hardest things to swallow, I'm not keen on being weak, and that was hugely weak. Needless to say, while I missed her after we came back, I was glad it was over. I was rundown, stressed and just wanted to sleep for days - but I couldn't, as it was the castle weekend, and I really wanted to go.
So Paul and I went, and as usual, it was good fun. I hated the fact I was so tired that I couldn't get involved in as much as I'd like. Although I went to bed earlyish on the Friday night, we didn't actually sleep till much, much later. Thus, we didn't get up until mid-afternoon Saturday. Saturday night however, I couldn't keep going, and before midnight I was in my bed. I had a sore foot, a sore gall bladder and I was back to the tearful state, I was better off in bed, reading my book and just relaxing. So I did. Paul stayed out till half 2, by which point I'd long since fell asleep on top of my book with the light on. I slept till around 2pm Sunday, proving that I needed the sleep.
On the matters of sleep - I slept till 2pm on Monday, and today despite being up at 9am for the Doctor - and being in bed early the night before, I was asleep again by 10am, and woke up at 3pm, and I'm still so tired. And stupidly, the Doctor today asked me if I was coping and I said yes. I don't know who I am trying to kid. I look like shit. Anyways, on that note, and feeling sorry for myself and wishing I was able to be different to how I am, I'm going to put myself to bed.
Thursday, 21 August 2008
Ramblings about love
After sleeping loads with a fever, I ended up getting hardly any sleep last night. Between one thing and another, I kept being woken up. Pain, animals, alarm clocks... so in the end, I stayed up for awhile around 5am, and I ended up writing in my paper diary. I'm not very good at keeping a real diary, but I use it mainly when I can't be bothered turning on the computer. And sometimes, it's just nice to write using pen and paper.
And at 5am this morning what I really felt was complete and utter devotion to Paul. I was loved up after seeing him last night, and missed him like mad. I felt like a lovesick teenager. I wanted to just lie in his arms and feel safe. Soppy, I know, but utterly true. Actually, instead of writing about what I wrote, I'll just copy in a section of what I wrote:
Paul said last night that I'm the only thing he loves in life, which was amazingly sweet but worrying at the same time. He likes other things - and presumably other people but he doesn't love them. This came from a conversation he had with someone else, and then told me about.
He also told me that he can't sleep without me in the bed - well, he has a lot of trouble sleeping without me in the bed. He's told me this before and certainly when I'm there, he goes out like a light.
It's really sweet and I guess shows how much he loves and needs me - yet part of me still worries that he'll leave me. That he'll meet someone through work - that they'll go out for lunches and they'll flirt and she'll convince him that he could do better and he'll believe her and leave me.
For something that I logically believe wouldn't happen, it's one of my greatest fears. So when he mentions having had lunch with a woman, I tense up and instantly imagine the worst. Although it's something that happens very rarely.
There is one woman in particular that I feel threatened by and that's a woman at his work called Rita. She's older than him and getting divorced. They've been out for lunches and she's given him message/poem card things (about believing in yourself) and she's given him sleep balm to help him sleep. I kinda made my worries clear to him and used magazine articles to try and show that it does happen, and that she might be after him. He hasn't mentioned her recently, and I think my message got across, but I will have to ask what became of her.
He's always told me that he would never cheat on me and I trust him not to - but there's still a worry - stemming from me thinking I'm not good enough for him and that he'll come across someone better and will go for her. Although to be honest, my fears tend to be that he'll leave me, never that he'd cheat on me. I do wholely believe he wouldn't do that.
The worry of him leaving me has some basis in fact. He has twice been engaged and twice walked away - pretty much at the last minute. I know our relationship is so very different to those relationships and that mentally he is in a better place, but still I worry that might happen to me. Because things never go right for me and my fairytale romance - which he is - I just worry about it ending. It's one of the only constant amazing things in my life. I really wouldn't like to imagine life without him.
After writing this, it was coming on for 7am, I waited till about 8am and sent him a text message. I told him that I loved him dearly, that I worried about losing him, because nothing good in my life ever lasts. And other things, which I forget quite how I worded it - but basically that I loved him with everything I have to give, and never want to be without him. He phoned tonight at about 7pm, and told me that he'd had a great day at work because he'd went in in a great mood, having read the text message and really felt good about himself. Which made me really happy. It's not often Paul ever realises how much he means to me, he tends to spend his time worrying he's not good enough for me (I know, we make a right pair - we share the same fears).
The thing is - I do still feel completely loved up with him. I want to tell people how much I love him, and I want to just spend all my time with him. Which is what makes me sad, because I can't. We get weekends, we get Wednesday nights, and that's it. I yearn desperately for when we can live together, but at the moment, I'm just happy I have him.
I never imagined that I would ever have such a great relationship. To be honest, i never really believed in great relationships. I never believed I would be this in love with a man, that I could fully embrace the feeling of wanting to shout my love from the rooftops. I thought it was something for movies, for romance novels, not for real life. I never believed I'd find a man who loved me so much in return, or a man who I could just be me with. It's something I never want to end, I thought we'd already had the ''honeymoon'' of our relationship, this is like a second honeymoon, where everything seems wonderful and perfect, and hopefully we can stay like this for a long time.
When I spend most of my day doped, and miserable over my health, having Paul really cheers me up. Just knowing that I have someone who I can lie with and talk to, makes me feel happier.
Anyways, I've rambled a lot - and it's bedtime now. My eyes keep closing due to drugs. I'm away for a bit, so might not update for a week or more.
And at 5am this morning what I really felt was complete and utter devotion to Paul. I was loved up after seeing him last night, and missed him like mad. I felt like a lovesick teenager. I wanted to just lie in his arms and feel safe. Soppy, I know, but utterly true. Actually, instead of writing about what I wrote, I'll just copy in a section of what I wrote:
Paul said last night that I'm the only thing he loves in life, which was amazingly sweet but worrying at the same time. He likes other things - and presumably other people but he doesn't love them. This came from a conversation he had with someone else, and then told me about.
He also told me that he can't sleep without me in the bed - well, he has a lot of trouble sleeping without me in the bed. He's told me this before and certainly when I'm there, he goes out like a light.
It's really sweet and I guess shows how much he loves and needs me - yet part of me still worries that he'll leave me. That he'll meet someone through work - that they'll go out for lunches and they'll flirt and she'll convince him that he could do better and he'll believe her and leave me.
For something that I logically believe wouldn't happen, it's one of my greatest fears. So when he mentions having had lunch with a woman, I tense up and instantly imagine the worst. Although it's something that happens very rarely.
There is one woman in particular that I feel threatened by and that's a woman at his work called Rita. She's older than him and getting divorced. They've been out for lunches and she's given him message/poem card things (about believing in yourself) and she's given him sleep balm to help him sleep. I kinda made my worries clear to him and used magazine articles to try and show that it does happen, and that she might be after him. He hasn't mentioned her recently, and I think my message got across, but I will have to ask what became of her.
He's always told me that he would never cheat on me and I trust him not to - but there's still a worry - stemming from me thinking I'm not good enough for him and that he'll come across someone better and will go for her. Although to be honest, my fears tend to be that he'll leave me, never that he'd cheat on me. I do wholely believe he wouldn't do that.
The worry of him leaving me has some basis in fact. He has twice been engaged and twice walked away - pretty much at the last minute. I know our relationship is so very different to those relationships and that mentally he is in a better place, but still I worry that might happen to me. Because things never go right for me and my fairytale romance - which he is - I just worry about it ending. It's one of the only constant amazing things in my life. I really wouldn't like to imagine life without him.
After writing this, it was coming on for 7am, I waited till about 8am and sent him a text message. I told him that I loved him dearly, that I worried about losing him, because nothing good in my life ever lasts. And other things, which I forget quite how I worded it - but basically that I loved him with everything I have to give, and never want to be without him. He phoned tonight at about 7pm, and told me that he'd had a great day at work because he'd went in in a great mood, having read the text message and really felt good about himself. Which made me really happy. It's not often Paul ever realises how much he means to me, he tends to spend his time worrying he's not good enough for me (I know, we make a right pair - we share the same fears).
The thing is - I do still feel completely loved up with him. I want to tell people how much I love him, and I want to just spend all my time with him. Which is what makes me sad, because I can't. We get weekends, we get Wednesday nights, and that's it. I yearn desperately for when we can live together, but at the moment, I'm just happy I have him.
I never imagined that I would ever have such a great relationship. To be honest, i never really believed in great relationships. I never believed I would be this in love with a man, that I could fully embrace the feeling of wanting to shout my love from the rooftops. I thought it was something for movies, for romance novels, not for real life. I never believed I'd find a man who loved me so much in return, or a man who I could just be me with. It's something I never want to end, I thought we'd already had the ''honeymoon'' of our relationship, this is like a second honeymoon, where everything seems wonderful and perfect, and hopefully we can stay like this for a long time.
When I spend most of my day doped, and miserable over my health, having Paul really cheers me up. Just knowing that I have someone who I can lie with and talk to, makes me feel happier.
Anyways, I've rambled a lot - and it's bedtime now. My eyes keep closing due to drugs. I'm away for a bit, so might not update for a week or more.
Wednesday, 20 August 2008
fevered into unconsciousness - but broken now
On a note on previous entry - since my Mum reminded me. My temperature turned out to be 42, not 38, my (now thrown away thermonator) was broken, and we only found out when I was obviously near delirious with fever, and my Mum told me 38 wasn't a fever. I pointed out that I ''scored'' 34 normally on this thermonator, and it was promptly binned.
I've since recovered from my fever (having slept for 20 odd hours) - but now don't have my own thermonator. My Mum says I don't need to have a relationship with a thermonator, because I'm always going to be running a low grade fever until this gall bladder leaves, but I like knowing.
So yeah, there we go. I was in fact, as mother said ''hot enough to fry an egg on my back''
I've since recovered from my fever (having slept for 20 odd hours) - but now don't have my own thermonator. My Mum says I don't need to have a relationship with a thermonator, because I'm always going to be running a low grade fever until this gall bladder leaves, but I like knowing.
So yeah, there we go. I was in fact, as mother said ''hot enough to fry an egg on my back''
Tuesday, 19 August 2008
retail therapy
When I feel like crap (which is sadly most of the time at the moment) - I always feel better with retail therapy. Now, I cannot afford in the slightest to be spending money. But I was feverish and wishing I were dead, and unable to drown my sorrows, or do anything really - I went on Amazon and shopped.
I never really go overboard but when I can't spend at all, anything is overboard. I bought books, which is my normal comfort purchase, I need books like I need a hole in the head. I have thousands. But I get a thrill from them, I like just holding them, seeing them, touching them, moving them about. Yes, it's sad and strange, but keeps me happy.
I read pretty much anything and everything, but my current fixation at the moment is military science fiction and urban fantasy. So, my purchases were:
Journey to the Centre of the Earth
Grimspace
Playing with Fire: Tales of an Extraordinary Girl
and Ghostgirl
The first 2 are Sci-Fi, the first being a classic that I've never read but always wanted to. At £2, I decided I'd pick it up. The 3rd is an urban fantasy type book, which looks interesting and has some good reviews and the last book is one that I saw in Borders last week and adored. While I know you should never ''judge a book by it's cover'' - this book was so pretty, glossy black hardback, with pink pages, and artwork - it looked lovely. Also slimmer in width than most books, it felt good to hold, and I wanted it then and there, but it was expensive, so I didn't. It was £7 (and change) on Amazon, which is more than I'd normally pay, but I wanted it. So I got it. I'll regret it later.
The book I originally went on to look at however, I didn't purchase. It's called ''The Rose Labyrinth'' - and it is a gorgeous book, beautifully packaged, with picture cards and really just unique. But it's £12, and that's a bit much for a book with mixed reviews - and a price that I can normally get 3 books for. Here's the link for anyone wanting to check it out - http://www.amazon.co.uk/Rose-Labyrinth-Titania-Hardie/dp/0755344561/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1219168359&sr=8-1
Maybe if it's still available in hardback format, I'll get it after Christmas.
I never really go overboard but when I can't spend at all, anything is overboard. I bought books, which is my normal comfort purchase, I need books like I need a hole in the head. I have thousands. But I get a thrill from them, I like just holding them, seeing them, touching them, moving them about. Yes, it's sad and strange, but keeps me happy.
I read pretty much anything and everything, but my current fixation at the moment is military science fiction and urban fantasy. So, my purchases were:
Journey to the Centre of the Earth
Grimspace
Playing with Fire: Tales of an Extraordinary Girl
and Ghostgirl
The first 2 are Sci-Fi, the first being a classic that I've never read but always wanted to. At £2, I decided I'd pick it up. The 3rd is an urban fantasy type book, which looks interesting and has some good reviews and the last book is one that I saw in Borders last week and adored. While I know you should never ''judge a book by it's cover'' - this book was so pretty, glossy black hardback, with pink pages, and artwork - it looked lovely. Also slimmer in width than most books, it felt good to hold, and I wanted it then and there, but it was expensive, so I didn't. It was £7 (and change) on Amazon, which is more than I'd normally pay, but I wanted it. So I got it. I'll regret it later.
The book I originally went on to look at however, I didn't purchase. It's called ''The Rose Labyrinth'' - and it is a gorgeous book, beautifully packaged, with picture cards and really just unique. But it's £12, and that's a bit much for a book with mixed reviews - and a price that I can normally get 3 books for. Here's the link for anyone wanting to check it out - http://www.amazon.co.uk/Rose-Labyrinth-Titania-Hardie/dp/0755344561/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1219168359&sr=8-1
Maybe if it's still available in hardback format, I'll get it after Christmas.
ramblings of a miserable nature
The past two days I have attempted to write a blog, I've started writing - then forgot, wandered off - came back and I.E has crashed, and despite claiming to ''save now'', it never actually saves and I can never be bothered re-writing what I'd previously wrote.
Last night I was running a temperature of 38/39C, felt dreadful, woozy and sickly. I woke up today feeling that I had hangover, the most awful hangover ever. My temperature has been spiking up and down during the day, and I'm presuming - as the symptoms match with before - that I have an infection, probably in my gall bladder that is annoying my liver. Whenever I wake up feeling like I'm two litres of Vodka worse for wear, something is wrong with my liver. My liver doesn't work at the best of times, and for the past 4 years has never had a healthy result when bloodwork is done. It is always in the ''red'' area, but apparently not bad enough to cause extreme long term damage. So my GP tells me. Because if I was going to suffer severe long term damage, they would have to operate immediatly, but it's not quite bad enough - yet.
I've had liver failure due to infection before, and I feel remarkably calm that it will probably happen again. It wasn't that bad the first time round. I was in high dependency, and my parents and the Doctors were seriously worried, but I wasn't. I felt fine, well not fine, but I didn't feel all that bad.
Anyways, I've just changed my patch, so I'm hoping for a painfree evening. The last day of a patch is always hell, and I hurt so much yesterday. All I want is for to feel the narcotics taking away the aches, the tension then putting me to sleep. I haven't slept well in a few days now, and when I have slept I've had nightmares. My Dad says the nightmares are probably caused by the drugs. But I'm also really worried at the moment about the medical, so I think it's probably that.
I'm still pretty miserable - two days ago I was in a mood that suicide, while I could never do it, I almost wished I could. I don't know why I was so miserable, or where the thoughts were coming from, but I was sore and I couldn't see that life would ever improve. That here I am at 26, stuck with my parents, living on high level painkillers and unable to do anything. It depresses me more than anything. I try to be happy and love what I have, but then I know that people my age have careers, they have children, they have homes. And I've spent my entire 20s near enough as a junkie slave to my gall bladder.
Argh. It makes me want to roll over and die. But the drugs are beginning to work now, I'll probably pass out soon, as is the way. Maybe I'll wake up happier and not wishing I had the ability to overdose and call it a day.
Last night I was running a temperature of 38/39C, felt dreadful, woozy and sickly. I woke up today feeling that I had hangover, the most awful hangover ever. My temperature has been spiking up and down during the day, and I'm presuming - as the symptoms match with before - that I have an infection, probably in my gall bladder that is annoying my liver. Whenever I wake up feeling like I'm two litres of Vodka worse for wear, something is wrong with my liver. My liver doesn't work at the best of times, and for the past 4 years has never had a healthy result when bloodwork is done. It is always in the ''red'' area, but apparently not bad enough to cause extreme long term damage. So my GP tells me. Because if I was going to suffer severe long term damage, they would have to operate immediatly, but it's not quite bad enough - yet.
I've had liver failure due to infection before, and I feel remarkably calm that it will probably happen again. It wasn't that bad the first time round. I was in high dependency, and my parents and the Doctors were seriously worried, but I wasn't. I felt fine, well not fine, but I didn't feel all that bad.
Anyways, I've just changed my patch, so I'm hoping for a painfree evening. The last day of a patch is always hell, and I hurt so much yesterday. All I want is for to feel the narcotics taking away the aches, the tension then putting me to sleep. I haven't slept well in a few days now, and when I have slept I've had nightmares. My Dad says the nightmares are probably caused by the drugs. But I'm also really worried at the moment about the medical, so I think it's probably that.
I'm still pretty miserable - two days ago I was in a mood that suicide, while I could never do it, I almost wished I could. I don't know why I was so miserable, or where the thoughts were coming from, but I was sore and I couldn't see that life would ever improve. That here I am at 26, stuck with my parents, living on high level painkillers and unable to do anything. It depresses me more than anything. I try to be happy and love what I have, but then I know that people my age have careers, they have children, they have homes. And I've spent my entire 20s near enough as a junkie slave to my gall bladder.
Argh. It makes me want to roll over and die. But the drugs are beginning to work now, I'll probably pass out soon, as is the way. Maybe I'll wake up happier and not wishing I had the ability to overdose and call it a day.
Sunday, 17 August 2008
RIP Jay
On fluff friends early this year I met a man called Jay. I knew him at best briefly, but I enjoyed his company on Chatzy and on the forums. He was witty, outrageous at times - sensitive at others. He knew how to make a whole room laugh and smile, which in itself was a gift.
While it had occured to me that yes, Jay could die, he had beat cancer once before - and it seemed impossible that he would die. Of course, he was going to beat it - then he'd get on with his life, with his daughter, with his new love. Happily ever after, and all that. But it wasn't to be.
It's hard to think of words to say at times like these, because nothing heals but time itself, and no words can bring him back or make anything better. I feel deeply for his family, knowing the utter despair that death brings, and again, other than saying ''my thoughts are with you'' - I can't think of much to say.
But in my own beliefs and thoughts, I hope Jay has found peace and is now painfree and ablebodied, I didn't ever talk to him about beliefs, but I hope that whatever he believed in, he has found, and if he believed in nothing, he's found a paradise anyways, and not oblivion.
Jay lived fast, from what I ''saw'' - but he lived with a strong energy and filled his days with many experiences that some don't get in an entire lifetime. It's not a great comfort, and it would have been amazing to see what he done next, but at least he got a lot from life. He touched a lot of people, and he passed on a message of believing in love, finding love and also of smiling, even when things seem lost. At least for me, that was something I took.
To Jay - you were a fleeting friend in my life, someone I would have loved to have known longer and better, you brought so much love to my friends, and so many smiles to those who knew you. It's wrong that you were taken, but I can only hope that it is for a reason and maybe you were needed somewhere else. You will be missed, worldwide - and I will miss you, for reasons I won't post here, as that is too raw for me to post. But you were special in your own way to me, and in an unique way, for someone who I knew for so little time, and so few ''meetings''.
While it had occured to me that yes, Jay could die, he had beat cancer once before - and it seemed impossible that he would die. Of course, he was going to beat it - then he'd get on with his life, with his daughter, with his new love. Happily ever after, and all that. But it wasn't to be.
It's hard to think of words to say at times like these, because nothing heals but time itself, and no words can bring him back or make anything better. I feel deeply for his family, knowing the utter despair that death brings, and again, other than saying ''my thoughts are with you'' - I can't think of much to say.
But in my own beliefs and thoughts, I hope Jay has found peace and is now painfree and ablebodied, I didn't ever talk to him about beliefs, but I hope that whatever he believed in, he has found, and if he believed in nothing, he's found a paradise anyways, and not oblivion.
Jay lived fast, from what I ''saw'' - but he lived with a strong energy and filled his days with many experiences that some don't get in an entire lifetime. It's not a great comfort, and it would have been amazing to see what he done next, but at least he got a lot from life. He touched a lot of people, and he passed on a message of believing in love, finding love and also of smiling, even when things seem lost. At least for me, that was something I took.
To Jay - you were a fleeting friend in my life, someone I would have loved to have known longer and better, you brought so much love to my friends, and so many smiles to those who knew you. It's wrong that you were taken, but I can only hope that it is for a reason and maybe you were needed somewhere else. You will be missed, worldwide - and I will miss you, for reasons I won't post here, as that is too raw for me to post. But you were special in your own way to me, and in an unique way, for someone who I knew for so little time, and so few ''meetings''.
Friday, 15 August 2008
blues
There isn't much to write about. After a very happy Wednesday, I had a pretty crap Thursday. I woke up running a fever, and basically just ill. So went back to sleep and woke up at 6pm, came through to computer to go onto webkinz, then Paul told me he'd watched St Trinians without me. Well that just - for some unknown reason - upset me a lot. It has taken till today for me to snap out of it. I knew logically I was being totally stupid, and not nice, but I couldn't come out of it. I was upset and I was hurt, but knowing how stupid it was to be upset and hurt over that - I couldn't voice it, which of course made matters worse and equated to the silent treatment. Not because I didn't want to speak to him, but because I didn't want to even begin to explain.
I haven't been much healthier today, was sick earlier in the afternoon, and prior to that was woozy and sleepy. Which I think was just this damn patch. So Paul sent me to sleep while he went to the shop. After that I felt better. Now I just feel grubby, as I've been running hot and cold all day long. So not much of a holiday for Paul, who I know was worrying about what he'd done wrong for a day, then worrying about my more frequent crashing into walls while trying to walk. I walk like I'm constantly drunk. Just crash my way through the flat. Stand up and fall back down again, type of thing. I haven't been drunk to excess in about five years now, so it's a novel experience.
I'm here for another few days, then home on Sunday. I'll miss being with Paul all the time, but I do miss my animals. I get a lot of comfort from my pets, especially Jake, my dog. And I feel like Harvey will have forgotten me. Rowen (horse) and Simon (cat) won't be bothered as they are used to me not always being around, but Jake and Harvey are just babies. And at the moment, Jake has an injured leg and is on medication, so have missed him a lot. I think my Mum is fed up of text messages asking her how Jake is. Never asking how my parents are, just how Jake is, how Harvey is.
Anyways, I was writing this while a bath cooled. I hope it's cooled enough to go in it, as I said I feel grubby and would like to have a good night's sleep. I just hope the really hot bath doesn't make my patch fall off as every other bath has done. Oh, and while I didn't deserve it at all, Paul bought me a present while out - the DS game Disney Friends (where I get to care for my Disney hero, Stitch!), a little cuddly giraffe and 2 kinder eggs. I'm definitely spoilt - just wish my moods weren't screwy, or as downhearted.
I haven't been much healthier today, was sick earlier in the afternoon, and prior to that was woozy and sleepy. Which I think was just this damn patch. So Paul sent me to sleep while he went to the shop. After that I felt better. Now I just feel grubby, as I've been running hot and cold all day long. So not much of a holiday for Paul, who I know was worrying about what he'd done wrong for a day, then worrying about my more frequent crashing into walls while trying to walk. I walk like I'm constantly drunk. Just crash my way through the flat. Stand up and fall back down again, type of thing. I haven't been drunk to excess in about five years now, so it's a novel experience.
I'm here for another few days, then home on Sunday. I'll miss being with Paul all the time, but I do miss my animals. I get a lot of comfort from my pets, especially Jake, my dog. And I feel like Harvey will have forgotten me. Rowen (horse) and Simon (cat) won't be bothered as they are used to me not always being around, but Jake and Harvey are just babies. And at the moment, Jake has an injured leg and is on medication, so have missed him a lot. I think my Mum is fed up of text messages asking her how Jake is. Never asking how my parents are, just how Jake is, how Harvey is.
Anyways, I was writing this while a bath cooled. I hope it's cooled enough to go in it, as I said I feel grubby and would like to have a good night's sleep. I just hope the really hot bath doesn't make my patch fall off as every other bath has done. Oh, and while I didn't deserve it at all, Paul bought me a present while out - the DS game Disney Friends (where I get to care for my Disney hero, Stitch!), a little cuddly giraffe and 2 kinder eggs. I'm definitely spoilt - just wish my moods weren't screwy, or as downhearted.
Wednesday, 13 August 2008
Kinz and Shopping and Kinz :-D
We didn't go away, I think I was rather hopeful (of myself) to think we would. I just fail at being spontaneous nowadays. Plus I'm sleeping so much that it would probably be a waste to go away, for me just to sleep constantly somewhere strange.
We did go away today however, just on a day trip to Fort Kinnaird outside Edinburgh. It's a HUGE retail park, no ''Fort'' in sight, but lots and lots of shops. That to me is a good day out. We nearly didn't go, because I could barely get up, then I managed to stay conscious enough to get dressed and washed, then promptly fell asleep in the car on the drive there. It's about an hour there, so I got a good nap. It was one of those sleeps where you'd swear blind you were actually awake, as I'd randomly open my eyes and listen to music, but given Paul's description of him going the wrong way and doing a U-turn that made my head flap about, I was quite definitely asleep.
While I love shopping, I'm not really a girlie shopper. We didn't go into a clothes store or a shoe store, instead our first stop was ''Clintons Cards'' where Paul bought me NINE, yes NINE Webkinz. Well, seven webkinz and two lil 'kinz, but I didn't want to discriminate ;-) More about them later...! After that we went to HMV where Paul bought some DVDs, and got St Trinians (the new one) for me. Then we wandered through Game and just window shopped. Then to Boots, where I spent 10 minutes buying sanitary towels, and get this - I know it's TMI, but I bought fancy ones, right, and the first one I used, I never bled a DROP on it, then I went to the toilet and bled like a stuck pig. What, was the towel refusing to take my blood?? Anyways... I also managed to get a roll on, cucumber face wipes and a copy of ''Heat'' in Boots. Just magically appeared in my arms.
Then we went to heaven, commonly known as ''Borders Books''. I am a HUGE fan of books. Seriously, I must have about 1000 unread, mostly new. Buying books, much like buying Webkinz is a huge boost for me. I love books. I love the feel of them, the smell of them. So being able to run wild in a book store. Heaven. Ok, not so much run wild. More just admire the books and carefully choose a few to take home. I really shouldn't have spent anything. Seriously, but I'm an addict. So, after 40 minutes of wandering and fingering (ooo'er!) and scanning, I had 3 in my arms - all Sci-Fi, I like my Sci-Fi, but I'm fussy and finding the right ones is hard. Then I was settled and forcing myself to not pick up more, when I came across a double edition of a Sci-Fi novel I wanted. Two books for the price of one! It's a bargain, right? So that means I had to buy it, or I'd miss out on the bargain. Then we discovered a whole section I didn't know about, and boy, I could have taken the whole bloody rack home, in the end I just wanted 4, but no, I was good. I managed to walk away.
By this point, my patch was wearing off, and I was getting sore. But Toys R Us was there, and well, I've only been in a Toys R Us about 3 times in my life, and one of those times (and the last time) was in Spain. When I was a kid, I always wanted to go to a Toys R Us but my parents never took me. I know, I think it's child abuse. Toys R Us had Webkinz (!) but thankfully - given they were full price - they didn't have any of the new ones. I just know I wouldn't have been able to leave without a new one.
And that was our day out. I came back with my kinz and my books, and happy, tired - annoyingly sore as well. The patch had well and truly worn off by the time we got back to the flat, climbing the stairs - each lift of my right leg and it was *STAB* ah, hello Mr Gall Bladder, *STAB*. The patch took about an hour to kick in, but it's been working ok so far. Usually for the first day on it works like a bitch, sometimes I get no pain relief then I get enough for an elephant. But it's a bit more even today.
Ok, I keep wandering off, and coming back, at this rate, I'll never finish, so here's a run down of new kinz!
Sylvie - Yorkie
Chiquita - Chihuhua
Paris - (Lil) Yorkie
Flossie - Pink Poodle
Hermione - Pig
Tramp - Tiger
and to be registered from today's haul - Elephant, Lil Lion and Black/White Cat.
On ebay, I may have a few to arrive, which I was bidding on prior to today's haul as Paul said he'd buy me some, lol. Then another new arrival is the pink pony of the other day - now ''Pixie'' and as before, I still have a Bullfrog to be registered.
I'm all kinzed up! So addicted, sigh, but such good fun. They make me so happy.
I'll try and do a proper update soon, that isn't just about kinz and shopping. Although for me, that's actually relatively exciting. Oh, and as a sidenote - I got a new prescription, so checked the leaflet with my new meds, and a side effect of these is depression. So well, will keep writing here how I feel. At least that way if I go odd(er), someone can tell me. Still feeling down, but not as much, it's kinda random misery.
We did go away today however, just on a day trip to Fort Kinnaird outside Edinburgh. It's a HUGE retail park, no ''Fort'' in sight, but lots and lots of shops. That to me is a good day out. We nearly didn't go, because I could barely get up, then I managed to stay conscious enough to get dressed and washed, then promptly fell asleep in the car on the drive there. It's about an hour there, so I got a good nap. It was one of those sleeps where you'd swear blind you were actually awake, as I'd randomly open my eyes and listen to music, but given Paul's description of him going the wrong way and doing a U-turn that made my head flap about, I was quite definitely asleep.
While I love shopping, I'm not really a girlie shopper. We didn't go into a clothes store or a shoe store, instead our first stop was ''Clintons Cards'' where Paul bought me NINE, yes NINE Webkinz. Well, seven webkinz and two lil 'kinz, but I didn't want to discriminate ;-) More about them later...! After that we went to HMV where Paul bought some DVDs, and got St Trinians (the new one) for me. Then we wandered through Game and just window shopped. Then to Boots, where I spent 10 minutes buying sanitary towels, and get this - I know it's TMI, but I bought fancy ones, right, and the first one I used, I never bled a DROP on it, then I went to the toilet and bled like a stuck pig. What, was the towel refusing to take my blood?? Anyways... I also managed to get a roll on, cucumber face wipes and a copy of ''Heat'' in Boots. Just magically appeared in my arms.
Then we went to heaven, commonly known as ''Borders Books''. I am a HUGE fan of books. Seriously, I must have about 1000 unread, mostly new. Buying books, much like buying Webkinz is a huge boost for me. I love books. I love the feel of them, the smell of them. So being able to run wild in a book store. Heaven. Ok, not so much run wild. More just admire the books and carefully choose a few to take home. I really shouldn't have spent anything. Seriously, but I'm an addict. So, after 40 minutes of wandering and fingering (ooo'er!) and scanning, I had 3 in my arms - all Sci-Fi, I like my Sci-Fi, but I'm fussy and finding the right ones is hard. Then I was settled and forcing myself to not pick up more, when I came across a double edition of a Sci-Fi novel I wanted. Two books for the price of one! It's a bargain, right? So that means I had to buy it, or I'd miss out on the bargain. Then we discovered a whole section I didn't know about, and boy, I could have taken the whole bloody rack home, in the end I just wanted 4, but no, I was good. I managed to walk away.
By this point, my patch was wearing off, and I was getting sore. But Toys R Us was there, and well, I've only been in a Toys R Us about 3 times in my life, and one of those times (and the last time) was in Spain. When I was a kid, I always wanted to go to a Toys R Us but my parents never took me. I know, I think it's child abuse. Toys R Us had Webkinz (!) but thankfully - given they were full price - they didn't have any of the new ones. I just know I wouldn't have been able to leave without a new one.
And that was our day out. I came back with my kinz and my books, and happy, tired - annoyingly sore as well. The patch had well and truly worn off by the time we got back to the flat, climbing the stairs - each lift of my right leg and it was *STAB* ah, hello Mr Gall Bladder, *STAB*. The patch took about an hour to kick in, but it's been working ok so far. Usually for the first day on it works like a bitch, sometimes I get no pain relief then I get enough for an elephant. But it's a bit more even today.
Ok, I keep wandering off, and coming back, at this rate, I'll never finish, so here's a run down of new kinz!
Sylvie - Yorkie
Chiquita - Chihuhua
Paris - (Lil) Yorkie
Flossie - Pink Poodle
Hermione - Pig
Tramp - Tiger
and to be registered from today's haul - Elephant, Lil Lion and Black/White Cat.
On ebay, I may have a few to arrive, which I was bidding on prior to today's haul as Paul said he'd buy me some, lol. Then another new arrival is the pink pony of the other day - now ''Pixie'' and as before, I still have a Bullfrog to be registered.
I'm all kinzed up! So addicted, sigh, but such good fun. They make me so happy.
I'll try and do a proper update soon, that isn't just about kinz and shopping. Although for me, that's actually relatively exciting. Oh, and as a sidenote - I got a new prescription, so checked the leaflet with my new meds, and a side effect of these is depression. So well, will keep writing here how I feel. At least that way if I go odd(er), someone can tell me. Still feeling down, but not as much, it's kinda random misery.
Sunday, 10 August 2008
on... possible holidays and misery
I'm having an early night. Well I was, then I pissed about for hours waiting for this stupid patch to work, by which point I was totally immersed in playing Juiced 2: Hot Import Nights on the 42 inch plasma TV that I couldn't drag myself to bed. So it's now 3am, and my early night is gone. With it clearly no longer existant, I decided to just blog.
My last post (''Rant of the Day'') is about one of the things that won't leave my mind at the moment. I'm so nervous and worried about this medical. Insanely so. People have said to me that ''there's no way I can fail'' - but I have no faith at all in the system, and I just know in my gut that I will have failed. And I really don't feel upto the battle of proving I'm too ill to work, because really, I'm too ill to fight nowadays as well.
Paul's still on holiday this week. He wanted to go away somewhere. I'm hardly the most cheery sort at the moment, plus being comatose 90% of the time hasn't helped. Last year we went away to Blackpool for 5 days, and it was good fun. We've talked about going back to the same place this week coming, as in, leaving today (Monday) or tomorrow. I always find it hard to cope with sudden plans. I get so easily stressed, but I would love to go. Hell, I just love spending time with him.
What we'd both like is a cottage somewhere in the middle of nowhere, where we can go and take our books, the DS and the 360 and just read, play games and wander about. We are quite easily pleased. But a cottage in the middle of nowhere costs a bomb, whereas 5 days in Blackpool costs £90 for two of us B&B. Although, I'm waiting on a prescription, so chances are we won't travel away tomorrow. I'd love to be able to be spontaneous, but I can't handle it.
I'm a day early on this stupid patch. The last one fell off. Well, we discovered that the really safe place on my body that doesn't crease/bend a lot - does infact crease and bend a lot when rolling about in bed. Thus fun last night meant no way in hell was the patch going to stay on till tomorrow at 6pm. It does say on the leaflet that the patch may end up stuck to partners, so at least THAT didn't happen!
It's coming on 4am. My thinking has slowed to the pace of a snail. Drugs! Stupid things. I'll never be an award winning author while medicated to the eyeballs. I also have a new webkinz to register - WHEE - I'm happy about that, but can't bring myself to do it just now. So tired. It's the Pink Pony that arrived damaged last week, and I had anoher one sent out, and I've to return the old one. The new one is pristine! No stuffing poking out. And how SAD am I, I feel *sorry* for the one I'm sending back. Poor, injured webkinz. I almost kept it because I felt sorry for it. This is why I can't randomly visit animal shelters, I have the same reaction.
Oh, and guess I'll touch on depression of sorts. I'm as well catalogging it somewhere. I still feel pretty low. It's not a constant, over-riding feeling. It just strikes me me out of the blue, like ''well, wouldn't it be better if I were dead''. Just like that. Or I think before falling asleep that I'd rather not wake up in the morning. Yet I'm still enjoying things, but then I fall into a slump. Almost tearful at times. And even when doing things I enjoy, unbidden, I'll think ''I wish I could die''. And I really don't wish that at all, but things seem endless and that I'm never going to get better, I'll only get worse, and that in turn Paul will suffer because of me, my parents will end up in poverty, and it could all be sorted if I wasn't about. I stress that I'm not suicidal, never have been, hope never to be. I've been happier the past few days, so I'm going to try and mentally note down *when* these thoughts come, e.g. is it with some medication kicking in or something like that.
I would tell Paul, but I can't. Paul does suffer from depression, quite bad at times, and if I mentioned that I were falling apart at the seams mentally, I don't think he'd cope. And I don't want to worry him. He's been at the lowest points, including being suicidal, and I don't want him thinking I'm heading that way. Because I don't think I am. I just have hijacked thoughts, unfortunately some of them I agree with. I also do think that after 4 and a half years of this, it's just wearing me down. I want my life back.
Oh and randomly, a girl who came onto the fluff chat looking for a fight last night said things about me talking about medication, people not wanting to hear about that or being ill and really just a verbal tirade that was to attack me for talking about, well, me. I thought about it, because one of my worries was always that people would deem me a sympathy seeker, which I'm not. And it does worry me that people will view me in a bad way because of my topics of conversation. It doesn't worry me what she thinks - but I do get concerned that friends would privately think like this.
I came to fluff originally, then chatzy, and now here to be myself. Her 'attack' of sorts was on me being the real me. Truly 100% me. Because I have changed an awful lot since becoming ill, and it's been hard to change to my friends, to become this weaker, lesser person - who can't do the same things as before, and whose life is slowly consumed by illness, by medication, and more recently, by sleep. And it would hurt if friends rolled their eyes at me talking about this, because it is my life. Like 80% of my life is high level medication. The rest is a mixture of Paul, animals, webkinz etc. But those things, I can talk about in RL, what I can never talk about is how I feel, mentally, physically and how medication affects me, apart from the painkilling effects. And I need that outlet, to real people. Perhaps just for reassurance that it's OK. Because I'm not - and likely never will be - brave enough to be ''raw'' in front of my friends in real life.
Not sure entirely where I'm going with this, so will leave it there. And just hope that the people who do matter can cope with me being continually miserable, as apparently (according to said interloper to chatzy) ''people don't like it''. But then, who does like misery? It's not like I enjoy it, which makes it even more important to talk about. Although, personally I still rank webkinz for conversation over misery... :-)
My last post (''Rant of the Day'') is about one of the things that won't leave my mind at the moment. I'm so nervous and worried about this medical. Insanely so. People have said to me that ''there's no way I can fail'' - but I have no faith at all in the system, and I just know in my gut that I will have failed. And I really don't feel upto the battle of proving I'm too ill to work, because really, I'm too ill to fight nowadays as well.
Paul's still on holiday this week. He wanted to go away somewhere. I'm hardly the most cheery sort at the moment, plus being comatose 90% of the time hasn't helped. Last year we went away to Blackpool for 5 days, and it was good fun. We've talked about going back to the same place this week coming, as in, leaving today (Monday) or tomorrow. I always find it hard to cope with sudden plans. I get so easily stressed, but I would love to go. Hell, I just love spending time with him.
What we'd both like is a cottage somewhere in the middle of nowhere, where we can go and take our books, the DS and the 360 and just read, play games and wander about. We are quite easily pleased. But a cottage in the middle of nowhere costs a bomb, whereas 5 days in Blackpool costs £90 for two of us B&B. Although, I'm waiting on a prescription, so chances are we won't travel away tomorrow. I'd love to be able to be spontaneous, but I can't handle it.
I'm a day early on this stupid patch. The last one fell off. Well, we discovered that the really safe place on my body that doesn't crease/bend a lot - does infact crease and bend a lot when rolling about in bed. Thus fun last night meant no way in hell was the patch going to stay on till tomorrow at 6pm. It does say on the leaflet that the patch may end up stuck to partners, so at least THAT didn't happen!
It's coming on 4am. My thinking has slowed to the pace of a snail. Drugs! Stupid things. I'll never be an award winning author while medicated to the eyeballs. I also have a new webkinz to register - WHEE - I'm happy about that, but can't bring myself to do it just now. So tired. It's the Pink Pony that arrived damaged last week, and I had anoher one sent out, and I've to return the old one. The new one is pristine! No stuffing poking out. And how SAD am I, I feel *sorry* for the one I'm sending back. Poor, injured webkinz. I almost kept it because I felt sorry for it. This is why I can't randomly visit animal shelters, I have the same reaction.
Oh, and guess I'll touch on depression of sorts. I'm as well catalogging it somewhere. I still feel pretty low. It's not a constant, over-riding feeling. It just strikes me me out of the blue, like ''well, wouldn't it be better if I were dead''. Just like that. Or I think before falling asleep that I'd rather not wake up in the morning. Yet I'm still enjoying things, but then I fall into a slump. Almost tearful at times. And even when doing things I enjoy, unbidden, I'll think ''I wish I could die''. And I really don't wish that at all, but things seem endless and that I'm never going to get better, I'll only get worse, and that in turn Paul will suffer because of me, my parents will end up in poverty, and it could all be sorted if I wasn't about. I stress that I'm not suicidal, never have been, hope never to be. I've been happier the past few days, so I'm going to try and mentally note down *when* these thoughts come, e.g. is it with some medication kicking in or something like that.
I would tell Paul, but I can't. Paul does suffer from depression, quite bad at times, and if I mentioned that I were falling apart at the seams mentally, I don't think he'd cope. And I don't want to worry him. He's been at the lowest points, including being suicidal, and I don't want him thinking I'm heading that way. Because I don't think I am. I just have hijacked thoughts, unfortunately some of them I agree with. I also do think that after 4 and a half years of this, it's just wearing me down. I want my life back.
Oh and randomly, a girl who came onto the fluff chat looking for a fight last night said things about me talking about medication, people not wanting to hear about that or being ill and really just a verbal tirade that was to attack me for talking about, well, me. I thought about it, because one of my worries was always that people would deem me a sympathy seeker, which I'm not. And it does worry me that people will view me in a bad way because of my topics of conversation. It doesn't worry me what she thinks - but I do get concerned that friends would privately think like this.
I came to fluff originally, then chatzy, and now here to be myself. Her 'attack' of sorts was on me being the real me. Truly 100% me. Because I have changed an awful lot since becoming ill, and it's been hard to change to my friends, to become this weaker, lesser person - who can't do the same things as before, and whose life is slowly consumed by illness, by medication, and more recently, by sleep. And it would hurt if friends rolled their eyes at me talking about this, because it is my life. Like 80% of my life is high level medication. The rest is a mixture of Paul, animals, webkinz etc. But those things, I can talk about in RL, what I can never talk about is how I feel, mentally, physically and how medication affects me, apart from the painkilling effects. And I need that outlet, to real people. Perhaps just for reassurance that it's OK. Because I'm not - and likely never will be - brave enough to be ''raw'' in front of my friends in real life.
Not sure entirely where I'm going with this, so will leave it there. And just hope that the people who do matter can cope with me being continually miserable, as apparently (according to said interloper to chatzy) ''people don't like it''. But then, who does like misery? It's not like I enjoy it, which makes it even more important to talk about. Although, personally I still rank webkinz for conversation over misery... :-)
Rant of the Day:: Government Medicals
If I were a registered drug addict, on the doses of medication I'm currently on, I would be deemed incapable of work. Purely on medication.
Now, I haven't received back word from the medical yet. I have no reason to believe I've passed because the point of the medicals is to fail people. The last time I ''failed'' the medical because the civil servant reading my notes failed to read the last page, where it said special circumstances (''suffers from serious disease: tick''), and sent the letter out saying I'd failed to meet the criteria.
It really, really depresses and worries me, this letter. Because I just know it's going to fail me, then I'll have to get involved in a battle to prove that I haven't recovered since the last time they passed me. In fact I've got worse, which is consistent with the much higher doses of medication I'm now on. All this while at the same time battling with my Doctor to get me the damn operation which would make me capable of work - thereby pleasing everyone, including myself.
A proper entry will follow this.
Friday, 8 August 2008
still about
Still about, staying at Paul's. Feeling like crap, have slept pretty much all week, all day long. I suspect the new drug is to blame. It's also making me short-tempered and cranky. Or maybe that's just me. I had a massive fight with my Dad over nothing on Wednesday night, and I'm still not speaking to him. Not that I'm there to speak with him, but well, I was hurt and pissed off, still am. Then of course my Mum has to butt her nose into it all and just makes me even more pissed off, which I told her. I even told her honestly that all she does is make matters worse, which seemed to make more hellbent on causing an even bigger issue. It's put a dampner on Paul's holiday, a whole week gone and really bugger all to show for it bar a girlfriend who considers death a more viable option.
But he does treat me well, and spoil me. Today he bought me Guitar Hero on the DS, which I've wanted for awhile. I think just because I've been a miserable bugger and other than sleeping, I've done my webkinz and that's about it. When Webkinz can't raise a smile, well it shows there are problems.
I'm just fed up. And I think heading into depression with this drug. Thing is, my Doctor was going to put me on another drug and I remember her saying - stop this drug if it causes depression but I don't think it was the one I'm on, but the one she ended up not putting me on. Whatever the case, I'm miserable and nothing has shifted it.
But he does treat me well, and spoil me. Today he bought me Guitar Hero on the DS, which I've wanted for awhile. I think just because I've been a miserable bugger and other than sleeping, I've done my webkinz and that's about it. When Webkinz can't raise a smile, well it shows there are problems.
I'm just fed up. And I think heading into depression with this drug. Thing is, my Doctor was going to put me on another drug and I remember her saying - stop this drug if it causes depression but I don't think it was the one I'm on, but the one she ended up not putting me on. Whatever the case, I'm miserable and nothing has shifted it.
Tuesday, 5 August 2008
grey days
Some mornings I wake up feeling so miserable. Granted I'm *really* sore and my knee was 'locked' up this morning, but I'm guessing it's depression - just waking up and thinking what's the point? I'm 26 and THIS is my life. And has been my life for the past 4 years. No wonder I have little in the way of friends, and God knows what maintains Paul's interest.
It's a horrible way of thinking, but I do wish at times I wasn't here. And no - it's not a cry for sympathy or what not, but I am a hinderance/burden to those around me. If I wasn't here there would be time and money available that I currently take up. It's not as if I'm suicidal, and I certainly don't think that way, but I do sometimes feel not waking up in the morning might not be the worst thing I'd ever do.
Oh, I don't know. I have so many hopes and dreams, all of which are on eternal hold until I'm ''fixed''. I've gone past believing I'll ever be fixed, and when I talk to Paul about our future marriage and house, it all seems hollow because as much as I want it to happen, I don't believe it will. And part of me wants to push him away so he can find someone with a future.
My eyes are closing due to drugs, and this isn't an update I'm having fun writing. But sometimes I just need to write these feelings down, maybe if I write them down enough, they'll leave my system completely. Hah. I'm also still sore, which annoys me - I can barely stay awake due to narcotics, but I can still feel intense stabbing pain that comes and goes.
Going to Paul's today, to stay until.... Sunday? I'm not sure. Will be taking laptop with me. Keep me close to Kinz. Will catch up better with journals later, sorry I don't comment much, I can never think of anything to say that is fitting. -x-
It's a horrible way of thinking, but I do wish at times I wasn't here. And no - it's not a cry for sympathy or what not, but I am a hinderance/burden to those around me. If I wasn't here there would be time and money available that I currently take up. It's not as if I'm suicidal, and I certainly don't think that way, but I do sometimes feel not waking up in the morning might not be the worst thing I'd ever do.
Oh, I don't know. I have so many hopes and dreams, all of which are on eternal hold until I'm ''fixed''. I've gone past believing I'll ever be fixed, and when I talk to Paul about our future marriage and house, it all seems hollow because as much as I want it to happen, I don't believe it will. And part of me wants to push him away so he can find someone with a future.
My eyes are closing due to drugs, and this isn't an update I'm having fun writing. But sometimes I just need to write these feelings down, maybe if I write them down enough, they'll leave my system completely. Hah. I'm also still sore, which annoys me - I can barely stay awake due to narcotics, but I can still feel intense stabbing pain that comes and goes.
Going to Paul's today, to stay until.... Sunday? I'm not sure. Will be taking laptop with me. Keep me close to Kinz. Will catch up better with journals later, sorry I don't comment much, I can never think of anything to say that is fitting. -x-
Sunday, 3 August 2008
This post is brought to you by FENTANYL and WEBKINZ, with a little bitta fluff on top and the BIGGEST helping of FRIENDSHIP and LOVE <3
My new painkillers aren't as great as I thought they would be, either that or I fail completely in my ability to stick things to myself. Which funnily enough - normally I can stick anything to myself, or stick myself together with the use of superglue. I've got the patch held on at the moment with 3 plasters and some electrical tape. Given the size of it, it's a bit TOO much, but still it keeps coming away from my skin. I've never used patches before, so maybe I'll improve at sticking them to myself. Bah, embarassing though that I can't even stick a little square to my body!
I'm still on a webkinz buzzzzz!!! I am so obsessed with them, it's unreal. I'M GETTING THE FANTAIL!! WHEEE!!! Oh my, I am SO excited about it! I'm obsessive over this damn fish, I want it so BADLY, it has to be mine, my squishy little fishy! I haven't got a name yet - I can't decide, but I want him so badly - and it will be a ''him''. He's coming all the way from America, being handpicked by Jen ;-) I know she'll pick me a good fishie!
I LOVE all the new kinz coming out, I literally want them ALL. How sad am I? 26 and I'd sell my soul for a plushie. I have kinz still to arrive, a hippo, a black bear and a lil unicorn. A pink pony also arrived, but she has a damaged foot and her stuffing is coming out, so she's going to be returned. I am stopping myself from bidding on anymore. I really can't afford to splurge on more, and I do have enough now to get settled with. Even though I want to keep getting MORE AND MORE. It's like CRACK. However, I did tell myself that I might allow just one more between August and September, maybe the new Deer or the Blue Jay... I mean *ONE* more won't hurt.... (... and so it starts!)
And I have the BESTEST FRIENDS EVAR! Jen - who is the mighty 'kinz Queen, who gave me Sprockie and Shell who bought me Bubbles (Lil Kinz Retriever) - and I really am in awe - like - I don't know what to say, I'm not sure how I came to deserve such wonderful friends who give me soft toys (which in my book is one of the best things a friend can do! LOL) - but I'm grateful for them, it's not good enough that they are amazing people, but they bear gifts! *<3s>
Paul is off all week, as I noted last time round. Originally I wasn't going to stay with him on Monday, I was going to go to his on Tuesday, then stay all week, but I stayed home tonight and while I like being with my parents and animals (ok, mainly the animals) - I decided that I really wanted to go and stay with Paul tomorrow. We rarely get a lot of time together, and being able to ''play house'' is a rare occurance for more than a weekend. It just means I'll probably have to come home mid-week and stay, because I feel guilty that I abandon the house, well, abandon my pets. If it weren't for the pets, I'd have no compulsion to return.
That's my drugs kicking in again. Sometimes - I feel nothing at all, well that's a lie - I feel pain, and think - this thing is utter crap, then like at the moment - I get all flushed and woozy and just know that my system is laced with narcotics. The drugs are also the reason for the rainbow colours of this post, and the lack of sense, coherency. It's 3am, and I have to get up at at least Noon tomorrow. God, I know. One of the few bonuses of the ill, the ability to lie late in bed and not feel guilty as hell. Although it doesn't stop me sometimes :-/ I am a worrywort or is that worrywart?
It's a bit strange - I don't play fluff much at all thesedays. Just webkinz is taking up all my time, but I still talk to the friends from it - religiously, those girls keep me sane (and are also the only ones who read this -waves-). But I got involved in a discussion on chatzy about fluff, which OK, the whole point of chatzy was to bring the fluffers together, but it's weird. It was about the forum, and people on there, and friendships and cliques on there, with a person who wouldn't say who they were. And talking about some of the other people, and just what others are like - I really really value the people I met. How I got lucky and got all the good apples, I don't know. But I did. I ''found'' genuine people who are now better friends than some people in RL. And the way I gauge that is - chances are - these are the people if I were to die, they'd know before people in RL, because my family and Paul know they mean a lot to me. And OK, that's a morbid train of thought, but it's true.
Anyways - I am rambling and very wasted on medication. So I'll slur ''I LOVE YOU ALL'' and fall into my bed. G'night xxxx
I'm still on a webkinz buzzzzz!!! I am so obsessed with them, it's unreal. I'M GETTING THE FANTAIL!! WHEEE!!! Oh my, I am SO excited about it! I'm obsessive over this damn fish, I want it so BADLY, it has to be mine, my squishy little fishy! I haven't got a name yet - I can't decide, but I want him so badly - and it will be a ''him''. He's coming all the way from America, being handpicked by Jen ;-) I know she'll pick me a good fishie!
I LOVE all the new kinz coming out, I literally want them ALL. How sad am I? 26 and I'd sell my soul for a plushie. I have kinz still to arrive, a hippo, a black bear and a lil unicorn. A pink pony also arrived, but she has a damaged foot and her stuffing is coming out, so she's going to be returned. I am stopping myself from bidding on anymore. I really can't afford to splurge on more, and I do have enough now to get settled with. Even though I want to keep getting MORE AND MORE. It's like CRACK. However, I did tell myself that I might allow just one more between August and September, maybe the new Deer or the Blue Jay... I mean *ONE* more won't hurt.... (... and so it starts!)
And I have the BESTEST FRIENDS EVAR! Jen - who is the mighty 'kinz Queen, who gave me Sprockie and Shell who bought me Bubbles (Lil Kinz Retriever) - and I really am in awe - like - I don't know what to say, I'm not sure how I came to deserve such wonderful friends who give me soft toys (which in my book is one of the best things a friend can do! LOL) - but I'm grateful for them, it's not good enough that they are amazing people, but they bear gifts! *<3s>
Paul is off all week, as I noted last time round. Originally I wasn't going to stay with him on Monday, I was going to go to his on Tuesday, then stay all week, but I stayed home tonight and while I like being with my parents and animals (ok, mainly the animals) - I decided that I really wanted to go and stay with Paul tomorrow. We rarely get a lot of time together, and being able to ''play house'' is a rare occurance for more than a weekend. It just means I'll probably have to come home mid-week and stay, because I feel guilty that I abandon the house, well, abandon my pets. If it weren't for the pets, I'd have no compulsion to return.
That's my drugs kicking in again. Sometimes - I feel nothing at all, well that's a lie - I feel pain, and think - this thing is utter crap, then like at the moment - I get all flushed and woozy and just know that my system is laced with narcotics. The drugs are also the reason for the rainbow colours of this post, and the lack of sense, coherency. It's 3am, and I have to get up at at least Noon tomorrow. God, I know. One of the few bonuses of the ill, the ability to lie late in bed and not feel guilty as hell. Although it doesn't stop me sometimes :-/ I am a worrywort or is that worrywart?
It's a bit strange - I don't play fluff much at all thesedays. Just webkinz is taking up all my time, but I still talk to the friends from it - religiously, those girls keep me sane (and are also the only ones who read this -waves-). But I got involved in a discussion on chatzy about fluff, which OK, the whole point of chatzy was to bring the fluffers together, but it's weird. It was about the forum, and people on there, and friendships and cliques on there, with a person who wouldn't say who they were. And talking about some of the other people, and just what others are like - I really really value the people I met. How I got lucky and got all the good apples, I don't know. But I did. I ''found'' genuine people who are now better friends than some people in RL. And the way I gauge that is - chances are - these are the people if I were to die, they'd know before people in RL, because my family and Paul know they mean a lot to me. And OK, that's a morbid train of thought, but it's true.
Anyways - I am rambling and very wasted on medication. So I'll slur ''I LOVE YOU ALL'' and fall into my bed. G'night xxxx
Thursday, 31 July 2008
Fentanyl, holiday with nana, kinz and harvey
I started a new painkiller today to replace my pethidine. Instead of taking pethidine during the day, I now have a Fentanyl patch at a rate of 25mg per hour. I put the first patch on today at 2pm (and for my own memory purposes - that was THURS @ 2pm, making it SUN @ 2pm for patch change!) and although it says the first day it works at a lower potency, damn I feel rough.
I've never used a patch before for anything, and I was a bit unsure of how well it would work. Of course I know it DOES work - believing in science - but seeing it, this little square of sticky plastic, it just doesn't seem like it should work. But as it is, it kicked in pretty fast. About an hour after taking it - I was sitting down and had been for awhile, then stood up - and the world just started spinning. It was like too much alcohol over a short period of time and standing up fast. Really horrible feeling. Then it seemed to ease off, although my Dad said I had slow speech and looked doped.
Over the course of the night I've felt pretty sickly, almost feverish and I really dread to think what it will be like at full potency tomorrow. I guess I'll wait and see. And oh shit, as memory kicks in - in a few weeks I'm meant to be going on holiday with my Nana, it's all booked. We're spending five days in Forfar at a hotel - but - I'm meant to drive there and around the place. I'd said when we arranged it that I'd just not take my painkillers, but this may mean having to come off this for the week, because Jesus, if it doesn't get better, I'll be too fucked to drive.
And the reason why I'm going on holiday is that it's my Nana's birthday in a few days and ALL she wanted for birthday was a holiday and no one would go with her, so I said I would. I'll enjoy it, but the driving aspect is worrying me. As is the general not being in hospital thus ruining it. Yes, I know she'd rather my health than holiday, but still worries me.
Anyways, away from drugs and worries. New Kinz arrived today! They are:
Chai Lai - the siamese - girl
Tuppence - the black cat - boy
Chai Lai is a name I found on a website and it's meant to mean ''beautiful'' and Tuppence is named after one of my first pets, a beautiful black tom cat who lived until he was 19 and was like a black panther. Chai Lai has a very elegant room, while Tuppence is a pirate! My Bullfrog also arrived but he can't be registered till September, when he's POTM and I have no idea what to call him. I didn't think I'd like him, but man, he's ADORABLE. He's a big squishy face and cute eyes. I LOVE HIM, and definitely a him.
Paul also paid for me to get a Hippo, a Black Bear and a Lil Kinz Unicorn. I'm really spoiled at the moment with Kinz, so much so that my obsession is being fulfilled and I'm not going into withdrawal wanting MORE MORE MORE! Although granted, that will happen soon no doubt! I'm like a little kid.
Harvey (my real horse, rather than my pinto webkinz!) is coming on leaps and bounds. It's honestly hard to believe he's so young at times, well except when he leaps into the air because he stamped on his metal food dish and it went CLANG - but he's so friendly and affectionate. He's nipped me a few times now, but only once on purpose and he got his nose slapped, which was so unexpected he leapt backwards and looked at me like I'd turned into the devil. I brought him back into me and told him ''NO'' again, and he seemed to get it. I don't like having to hit horses, but things like biting can't be allowed, especially with kids that visit.
He follows me about now as well, and he walks companionably beside or behind me about the field and if he stops, I just turn around and say, ''come on then!'' and he almost looks like he shrugs his shoulders and goes, ''alright then''. I never have to apply any pressure or force. I don't want a horse I have to haul and pull on a leadrope to get them moving, and I like this gentle and easy working that I have with him. It's been so long since I trained a youngster that I'm not sure where to start, so many options and ideas, but at the moment taking things slow and easy is enjoyable for us both.
Anyways, I'll close here. Not sure how much I'll update as Paul is off for the next two weeks, and I'll be at his a lot. He doesn't know about this blog, and with a will to keep it my secret place, I don't want to be ''caught'' updating it. It's stupid, I know. But if he knows about this, and reads it, then I won't be able to be honest in it and use it for what I want.
I've never used a patch before for anything, and I was a bit unsure of how well it would work. Of course I know it DOES work - believing in science - but seeing it, this little square of sticky plastic, it just doesn't seem like it should work. But as it is, it kicked in pretty fast. About an hour after taking it - I was sitting down and had been for awhile, then stood up - and the world just started spinning. It was like too much alcohol over a short period of time and standing up fast. Really horrible feeling. Then it seemed to ease off, although my Dad said I had slow speech and looked doped.
Over the course of the night I've felt pretty sickly, almost feverish and I really dread to think what it will be like at full potency tomorrow. I guess I'll wait and see. And oh shit, as memory kicks in - in a few weeks I'm meant to be going on holiday with my Nana, it's all booked. We're spending five days in Forfar at a hotel - but - I'm meant to drive there and around the place. I'd said when we arranged it that I'd just not take my painkillers, but this may mean having to come off this for the week, because Jesus, if it doesn't get better, I'll be too fucked to drive.
And the reason why I'm going on holiday is that it's my Nana's birthday in a few days and ALL she wanted for birthday was a holiday and no one would go with her, so I said I would. I'll enjoy it, but the driving aspect is worrying me. As is the general not being in hospital thus ruining it. Yes, I know she'd rather my health than holiday, but still worries me.
Anyways, away from drugs and worries. New Kinz arrived today! They are:
Chai Lai - the siamese - girl
Tuppence - the black cat - boy
Chai Lai is a name I found on a website and it's meant to mean ''beautiful'' and Tuppence is named after one of my first pets, a beautiful black tom cat who lived until he was 19 and was like a black panther. Chai Lai has a very elegant room, while Tuppence is a pirate! My Bullfrog also arrived but he can't be registered till September, when he's POTM and I have no idea what to call him. I didn't think I'd like him, but man, he's ADORABLE. He's a big squishy face and cute eyes. I LOVE HIM, and definitely a him.
Paul also paid for me to get a Hippo, a Black Bear and a Lil Kinz Unicorn. I'm really spoiled at the moment with Kinz, so much so that my obsession is being fulfilled and I'm not going into withdrawal wanting MORE MORE MORE! Although granted, that will happen soon no doubt! I'm like a little kid.
Harvey (my real horse, rather than my pinto webkinz!) is coming on leaps and bounds. It's honestly hard to believe he's so young at times, well except when he leaps into the air because he stamped on his metal food dish and it went CLANG - but he's so friendly and affectionate. He's nipped me a few times now, but only once on purpose and he got his nose slapped, which was so unexpected he leapt backwards and looked at me like I'd turned into the devil. I brought him back into me and told him ''NO'' again, and he seemed to get it. I don't like having to hit horses, but things like biting can't be allowed, especially with kids that visit.
He follows me about now as well, and he walks companionably beside or behind me about the field and if he stops, I just turn around and say, ''come on then!'' and he almost looks like he shrugs his shoulders and goes, ''alright then''. I never have to apply any pressure or force. I don't want a horse I have to haul and pull on a leadrope to get them moving, and I like this gentle and easy working that I have with him. It's been so long since I trained a youngster that I'm not sure where to start, so many options and ideas, but at the moment taking things slow and easy is enjoyable for us both.
Anyways, I'll close here. Not sure how much I'll update as Paul is off for the next two weeks, and I'll be at his a lot. He doesn't know about this blog, and with a will to keep it my secret place, I don't want to be ''caught'' updating it. It's stupid, I know. But if he knows about this, and reads it, then I won't be able to be honest in it and use it for what I want.
Tuesday, 29 July 2008
medical assessment and kinz
I had my medical this morning, after a fairly crap nights sleep. I get so nervous at these things. And I always feel I say completely the wrong things and destroy my own case. It was with an older Doctor, guess is it was a retired GP. I'll get results in a few weeks.
For example, here are stupid things I said:
DOC: How do your painkillers effect daily life?
ME: I lack in concentration, I get drowsy a lot, my vision blurs.... and I lack in concentration.
And another:
DOC: How do you manage the stairs?
ME: Oh, we have a stairlift!
DOC: Do you use it?
ME: No, but we have one.
And another:
DOC: How do you find walking?
ME: Well I can get sore if I walk a lot.
DOC: How far would that be? A few miles?
ME: Well, no, like round a supermarket
DOC: How often do you do that?
ME: Never at the moment.
He didn't examine my gall bladder area, even though I offered that he could ''feel my stone'' and in closing he said ''the sooner you get your operation, the better'' - which sounds vaguely positive in that he believes I'm truly ill. Although it's not like I have to prove I'm ill, as I have the medical proof for it. But proof I'm too ill to work, that's another kettle of fish entirely.
Of course, upon leaving the medical I suffered a gall bladder attack. My gall bladder being a devoted follower of ''Sod's Law''. So I spent the afternoon completely wasted on painkillers, at one point fearing I'd taken too many and was going to die. Proving to myself that I still have the ability to be a drama queen, even if just inside my own head.
Following the attack from hell, I slept from 3pm till 8.30pm, missing out on going to the horses - not that I'd have been allowed in that state, but anyways. Then watched TV for a bit, before returning to bed. It's certainly an exciting life...
(P.S on the webkinz front, I'm fighting an increasingly strong urge to buy more. I WANT MORE WEBKINZ. I'd sell my soul at the moment for more. I'm so focussed on them, but in a way it's good because I get lifeless about things and just don't care. And at the moment I get excited by webkinz and get to have a lot of fun through them. My current family is:
Sprockie - the himalayan cat
Belle - the husky
Shatan - the black stallion
Harvey - the pinto horse
Matilda - the cow
I also have my Clydesdale waiting to be registered and she will be ''Maydew''. I'm desperate for a unicorn. Like YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE, but the ones I'm thinking of buying are the Hippo or the Bear or the Black/White cat since I can get them online at £4.99 each. And waiting to arrive - Bullfrog, black cat and siamese......
.... with friends like Jen... whose bank account needs enemies? :-D *loves Jen to bits*)
For example, here are stupid things I said:
DOC: How do your painkillers effect daily life?
ME: I lack in concentration, I get drowsy a lot, my vision blurs.... and I lack in concentration.
And another:
DOC: How do you manage the stairs?
ME: Oh, we have a stairlift!
DOC: Do you use it?
ME: No, but we have one.
And another:
DOC: How do you find walking?
ME: Well I can get sore if I walk a lot.
DOC: How far would that be? A few miles?
ME: Well, no, like round a supermarket
DOC: How often do you do that?
ME: Never at the moment.
He didn't examine my gall bladder area, even though I offered that he could ''feel my stone'' and in closing he said ''the sooner you get your operation, the better'' - which sounds vaguely positive in that he believes I'm truly ill. Although it's not like I have to prove I'm ill, as I have the medical proof for it. But proof I'm too ill to work, that's another kettle of fish entirely.
Of course, upon leaving the medical I suffered a gall bladder attack. My gall bladder being a devoted follower of ''Sod's Law''. So I spent the afternoon completely wasted on painkillers, at one point fearing I'd taken too many and was going to die. Proving to myself that I still have the ability to be a drama queen, even if just inside my own head.
Following the attack from hell, I slept from 3pm till 8.30pm, missing out on going to the horses - not that I'd have been allowed in that state, but anyways. Then watched TV for a bit, before returning to bed. It's certainly an exciting life...
(P.S on the webkinz front, I'm fighting an increasingly strong urge to buy more. I WANT MORE WEBKINZ. I'd sell my soul at the moment for more. I'm so focussed on them, but in a way it's good because I get lifeless about things and just don't care. And at the moment I get excited by webkinz and get to have a lot of fun through them. My current family is:
Sprockie - the himalayan cat
Belle - the husky
Shatan - the black stallion
Harvey - the pinto horse
Matilda - the cow
I also have my Clydesdale waiting to be registered and she will be ''Maydew''. I'm desperate for a unicorn. Like YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE, but the ones I'm thinking of buying are the Hippo or the Bear or the Black/White cat since I can get them online at £4.99 each. And waiting to arrive - Bullfrog, black cat and siamese......
.... with friends like Jen... whose bank account needs enemies? :-D *loves Jen to bits*)
Monday, 28 July 2008
misery and medicals
I find it hard these days to keep up a blog. Not because I have nothing to say, as I can always ramble - but because I feel I just write the same things over and over. Like - oh, I'm ill or I'm miserable. And it grates on me, so God knows how anyone reading it will feel. But at the same time, everything needs an outlet and for that sort of talk, online is my only outlet and I guess the safest place is a blog hardly anyone reads.
I'm completely doped on painkillers at the moment. I'm still sore, but it doesn't matter. It's more of an irritating sharp poke than being identifiable as pain. Yet I know when painkillers run out, it will hurt like a bitch. And yes, I know I should get into hospital. I act stupid by not going in, but I do know that one way or another, time is ticking down. In a melodramatic sense, I almost feel like I'm living on borrowed time - not borrowed from death, I'm not pushing my thoughts that far, but borrowed from facing upto the full implications of my health and the impending crisis that is looming. Crisis may be too dramatic a word to use, but facing upto things, and going into hospital, and facing the fear of never leaving it again etc - it's a crisis to me. And one I want to avoid, because I still believe that I won't survive this. And no matter how much logic I apply to myself or how much common sense, I can't change my gut feeling. Of course, it's not really a 'gut feeling' - prior to being told by the surgeon that I would die, I didn't have such extreme worries, but since then, I cannot escape that fear.
I find myself more miserable by the day. Maybe it's just a low mood swing, in general - when healthy, I didn't suffer that much from lows. I got them, but I didn't wallow. Instead I would deal with problems and face upto them, and keep on the move. How times change, eh? These days - everything is the same. I have very few things in my life - I play my DS, I read books, I feed my horses, I come online and I watch TV. Which may sound heavenly to those who work - but trust me, when you have this every single day - you soon yearn for work, not just for the stimulation, but also for the money which allows a greater freedom of activity/hobbies. I am becoming more ill, that's a given. Paul has noticed, and today even said to me that even with the stronger painkillers, I seem worse. And I seem worse, because I am worse. Higher painkillers weren't quite the saviour I had hoped for.
Tomorrow I have a medical for the Department of Work and Pensions, which is the Government body who oversee welfare benefits, which I receive for being unable to work. I am really quite scared about it. Not because I feel I am being a fraud and will be 'found out' - but because I know that they are trying to get as many people off of benefit as possible, it's not about individuals, at the end of the day it's about statistics which means I may not receive a fair medical, it may be that they need more numbers to fill up the 'back to work' column. Although I do have a case that is harder to discount, but I have a dread feeling that they will, which means following that - I only receive half my benefit and have to appeal via a tribunal, which tend to go in favour of the Government. It's a farce, but it's what Britain has become. As it is, I suffer from severe cholecystitis, which on my previous medical was noted as a ''severe, serious disease'' by the Doctor I was seen by. I'm on masses of painkillers which make me unable to function, and have little dignity left when it comes to most things (given I struggle to take baths given pain I have - but don't worry, I take a shower, I don't smell [I have a phobia about hygeine!] - and I can't wear bras anymore, at all, and with 42DD breasts, well, it's undignified - I look like a cow ready to be milked).
I'm hoping that I'm treated fairly and am not made to suffer stressful weeks of fighting the bit for myself. Stress makes matters worse - medically - stress increases something or other which puts more stress on the gall bladder and intensifies problems in that area. So the last thing I need is stress, and I've had plenty of it recently. Further into stressful things, I have a GP appointment on Wednesday for my GP to hopefully send this bloody letter to the surgeon to get me back onto the operating list - then at some point I may be able to regain my life or have it ended. One way or another, I'd be gall bladder free.
But for now, I'll close on yet another entry filled with moaning and misery.
I'm completely doped on painkillers at the moment. I'm still sore, but it doesn't matter. It's more of an irritating sharp poke than being identifiable as pain. Yet I know when painkillers run out, it will hurt like a bitch. And yes, I know I should get into hospital. I act stupid by not going in, but I do know that one way or another, time is ticking down. In a melodramatic sense, I almost feel like I'm living on borrowed time - not borrowed from death, I'm not pushing my thoughts that far, but borrowed from facing upto the full implications of my health and the impending crisis that is looming. Crisis may be too dramatic a word to use, but facing upto things, and going into hospital, and facing the fear of never leaving it again etc - it's a crisis to me. And one I want to avoid, because I still believe that I won't survive this. And no matter how much logic I apply to myself or how much common sense, I can't change my gut feeling. Of course, it's not really a 'gut feeling' - prior to being told by the surgeon that I would die, I didn't have such extreme worries, but since then, I cannot escape that fear.
I find myself more miserable by the day. Maybe it's just a low mood swing, in general - when healthy, I didn't suffer that much from lows. I got them, but I didn't wallow. Instead I would deal with problems and face upto them, and keep on the move. How times change, eh? These days - everything is the same. I have very few things in my life - I play my DS, I read books, I feed my horses, I come online and I watch TV. Which may sound heavenly to those who work - but trust me, when you have this every single day - you soon yearn for work, not just for the stimulation, but also for the money which allows a greater freedom of activity/hobbies. I am becoming more ill, that's a given. Paul has noticed, and today even said to me that even with the stronger painkillers, I seem worse. And I seem worse, because I am worse. Higher painkillers weren't quite the saviour I had hoped for.
Tomorrow I have a medical for the Department of Work and Pensions, which is the Government body who oversee welfare benefits, which I receive for being unable to work. I am really quite scared about it. Not because I feel I am being a fraud and will be 'found out' - but because I know that they are trying to get as many people off of benefit as possible, it's not about individuals, at the end of the day it's about statistics which means I may not receive a fair medical, it may be that they need more numbers to fill up the 'back to work' column. Although I do have a case that is harder to discount, but I have a dread feeling that they will, which means following that - I only receive half my benefit and have to appeal via a tribunal, which tend to go in favour of the Government. It's a farce, but it's what Britain has become. As it is, I suffer from severe cholecystitis, which on my previous medical was noted as a ''severe, serious disease'' by the Doctor I was seen by. I'm on masses of painkillers which make me unable to function, and have little dignity left when it comes to most things (given I struggle to take baths given pain I have - but don't worry, I take a shower, I don't smell [I have a phobia about hygeine!] - and I can't wear bras anymore, at all, and with 42DD breasts, well, it's undignified - I look like a cow ready to be milked).
I'm hoping that I'm treated fairly and am not made to suffer stressful weeks of fighting the bit for myself. Stress makes matters worse - medically - stress increases something or other which puts more stress on the gall bladder and intensifies problems in that area. So the last thing I need is stress, and I've had plenty of it recently. Further into stressful things, I have a GP appointment on Wednesday for my GP to hopefully send this bloody letter to the surgeon to get me back onto the operating list - then at some point I may be able to regain my life or have it ended. One way or another, I'd be gall bladder free.
But for now, I'll close on yet another entry filled with moaning and misery.
Friday, 25 July 2008
this little piggy went to market...
Seems we're going up early to see the horses. I swear I must look like death warmed up, my Mum was already talking nonsense to me to cheer me up, and my Dad just came into my room and said:
Dad - Five minutes till we go (*waving his hand in the air*) - see, count the fingers - FIVE
Me - Ok
Dad - And look, can count my toes as well (*waves his foot in the air, and while standing on one leg pulls his sock off, grabs his big toe*) - and this little piggy went to market....
... then he nearly fell over. 65 year old men shouldn't balance on one leg. It did make me laugh though.
Dad - Five minutes till we go (*waving his hand in the air*) - see, count the fingers - FIVE
Me - Ok
Dad - And look, can count my toes as well (*waves his foot in the air, and while standing on one leg pulls his sock off, grabs his big toe*) - and this little piggy went to market....
... then he nearly fell over. 65 year old men shouldn't balance on one leg. It did make me laugh though.
sailing high on opiate winds
Still here.
But with progress. I spoke to my Mum about hospital, about the fact I'm much worse than I was, and that my painkillers aren't doing the job and I may require to get into hospital and have antibiotics and morphine. She was OK about it, in her normal bullish way, she said - ''Then you should just go now!'' - and I felt like a rabbit stuck in the headlights of an on-coming truck. I told her I was still thinking about it, that I was waiting to get worse. Yes, insane, but trust me - just talking about it was enough to make my throat so dry I couldn't swallow. And because I stay with Paul at the weekend, my Mum will talk to my Dad - and then maybe my Dad will raise it with me. It's a long way for a short cut, but hopefully this way I'll be able to go into hospital and not be on the point of having heart failure.
Which isn't that much of an overstatement - everytime I've been in hospital, my heart goes mad. They always comment on my high heart rate/blood pressure and the fact I'm always really stressed when getting tests done. But I think I must look stressed as well, because they do always note that it's likely because I'm in hospital, not due to anything wrong with me causing those results.
I have a medical with the Department for Work and Pensions next week. It's to assess me to see if I'm fit for work. Laughable really, and worse - they may assess me as being fit for work. The tests are meaningless, I passed the medical last time but recently on the news it's been about how they are getting tougher during these examinations in a push to get people off benefit. Which is fair enough for those on benefit because they are scamming, but my medication alone makes me unsuitable for work - not even taking into account the fact at the moment minor exertion seems to kill me. But fingers crossed, I get a honest Doctor and don't have to go through the appeals process to try and get benefit back.
I'm high as a kite at the moment - LOADS of drugs. I'm still sore though. But it's like a dull ache in the background and I don't care. I have a slight flush that opiates give and that mental detatchment that comes with high doses of painkillers, usually just before I fall unconscious in a heap. At times like this - I have a huge urge to lie down and doze - but I also don't want to ''waste'' the feeling of being stoned on painkillers, because while I'm still sore, I feel good. And really, I never feel good, so when I do, I want to make it last.
My clydesdale webkinz arrived today and I REALLY want to register it. But I can't, I need to wait till the first of August. If I'm not about, Paul's been instructed to do it for me. It's going to be a girl webkinz called ''Maydew'' - after one of the first ponies I rode at Riding School. She was a big, slow plodder but a sweetheart. Really gentle and affectionate mare. Then - when my other ones arrive, I'll have NINE. Jesus, it's unbelievable. And if I want the free underwater room, I'll have to wait and get the fantail as #10. Not that I can afford to buy any for a long time. I think I'm already going to have to cancel a trip away because I've messed up my finances. But then, I don't think I'm well enough to go away either.
But I think I'm going to take that lie down now. I have an hour before I'll be assessed for going to feed the horses, since if my Dad deems me not well enough, I don't get to go. The road across to the horses is bumpy, and it can make me sore, and he doesn't want me having a major problem in the field. Which is fair enough I suppose.
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