Morag is the most Scottish friend I have; she’s spent years on the high roads and knows, intimately, every hill north of Glasgow – not that she’s climbed them, no, she just likes her haggis spiced with local gin...and there’s been a terrible dearth of those items in the recent past. She’s been in hospital for almost five months now, with not a drop of anything but water over her lips the whole time.
I couldn’t begin to tell the long story but the short of it is that her guts are in an awful state. They have to keep chopping bits off, which doesn’t heal well and leaks into a bag. You’d think that in this age of plastic there would be some kind of instant plumbing you could buy in Aldi, now wouldn’t you?
In the last five years her husband, Hamish, has had the talk four times; been dragged off for a quiet chat with surgeons and given percentages and death-rates. She almost died twice in the last month alone. When I go visiting I never know where she’ll be at any given moment; intensive care, high dependency or her own little room on the ward (her home from home) – because she’s got MRSA too, of course...luckily not in the wound.
So why is she still here? What keeps her alive and why didn’t she die from all the operations, the coma, the traumas and infections? Because she’s a writer and hasn’t finished her book, or the play; I told her that I wouldn’t be able to finish it for her (can’t finish my own) because we are completely different writers.
She’s back in her room today and looking a lot better; there’s been a power of sleeping going on these last couple of weeks, and things are looking good. She and Hamish will have been married thirty-seven years next week - he’s one of the good ones. Amazing. (Mustn’t forget to make the anniversary card for her)
Crohn’s Disease is a bugger and Morag is filled with guilt because she’s passed it on to her son. I hope he doesn’t imagine himself in her position in thirty years; how could you live with that? Maybe there will be something by then.
Showing posts with label illness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label illness. Show all posts
Monday, March 31, 2008
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
OLD OLD OLD
Well, I think I’m finally falling apart; I was at the hospital yesterday morning, at the face clinic and I am suffering from DMT which means, Dysfunctional Mandibular something. She said that my jaw might not return to the way it was; I should get my mouth open wider than it is now, but don’t think I’ll be facing a future that includes Big Macs. They had to take impressions of my teeth to make me some kind of shield that I’ll need to wear at night to gently relax the tissues in my jaw area. Apparently, I’ve been overworking my poor old jaw, because I have to chew on one side – there being no teeth on the bottom of the other side! Long and convoluted, I know, but let this be a warning to those of you out there chewing on one side…GIVE IT A REST!
The making of the impressions was pretty hysterical, considering I can only open my mouth about half-an-inch! It was painful, still is. I hardly slept last night, kept waking up with acid in my throat, having to sleep sitting up and coughing it away. My body is fast approaching ancient; I can see myself being fed through a tube – that’ll keep the acid-reflux at bay. I shudder to think what it’ll be next. Last night was my own fault; I had cake about ten o’clock. I need taking in hand – I still haven’t had a vegetable since I left Devon! I blame it all on Musician – if he had a cooker and a fridge I’d be able to cook proper food. He did have a fridge, I bought it for him, but he blew it up a couple of months ago; cleaning the icebox with a knife’ll do it every time. He is definitely not mine, this changeling.
I find myself disappearing into the land-of-lie-about-all-day; I’ve watched several movies today and my excuse is that I was tired after last night. Tomorrow, I will go to the library; I will go buy the house-warming present for my brother-in-law; I’ll have lunch with Morag; and I’ll walk instead of taking a taxi. I didn’t do any writing today but I did last night, and am half-way through ‘End of The Affair’. Feeling old and decrepit but still optimistic.
The making of the impressions was pretty hysterical, considering I can only open my mouth about half-an-inch! It was painful, still is. I hardly slept last night, kept waking up with acid in my throat, having to sleep sitting up and coughing it away. My body is fast approaching ancient; I can see myself being fed through a tube – that’ll keep the acid-reflux at bay. I shudder to think what it’ll be next. Last night was my own fault; I had cake about ten o’clock. I need taking in hand – I still haven’t had a vegetable since I left Devon! I blame it all on Musician – if he had a cooker and a fridge I’d be able to cook proper food. He did have a fridge, I bought it for him, but he blew it up a couple of months ago; cleaning the icebox with a knife’ll do it every time. He is definitely not mine, this changeling.
I find myself disappearing into the land-of-lie-about-all-day; I’ve watched several movies today and my excuse is that I was tired after last night. Tomorrow, I will go to the library; I will go buy the house-warming present for my brother-in-law; I’ll have lunch with Morag; and I’ll walk instead of taking a taxi. I didn’t do any writing today but I did last night, and am half-way through ‘End of The Affair’. Feeling old and decrepit but still optimistic.
Monday, September 10, 2007
COMPLAINTS & EXCUSES
My excuse for not writing in here last week is….my nails were too long. I can’t bear the feel and sound of fingernails clicking on the keys, sometimes slipping from one to another and just generally making a mess of everything. So, I soaked some washing in the bath, squeezed and swirled till the said nails were pliable then I cut them all off. Now I’m whizzing around the keyboard like a wild thing, loose and fancy free…and unemployed. I’ve now got five application forms to fill out; will force myself into it tonight, when my bum is numb from sitting here surfing.
I had a few lovely drinks with Herman Saturday night; we got to sit out in the garden with our little tubs of melon (reduced), glass of wine and enjoy the strange and wonderful feeling of Glasgow sunshine. He’s house-sitting out in the burbs north of the city; quiet and lush grass under my bare feet. And the luxury of a huge telly to ignore while we babble on about god-knows-what, and my future, both work and medical; I’m still locked up – nothing wider than a finger can get between these teeth.
I spoke to a doctor from the face clinic on the phone the other morning, and told him how worried I was about being lock-jawed for three weeks, and whether I’ll stay like this forever, and is it wise to leave me until my appointment on the 17th. He said I’ll be okay. I’m just wondering how they’re going to get my jaw going again after all this time. I told him that I was thinking that my jaw might just fuse and never move again. I think he thought I was mad, but I had the impression that he was about fifteen and had mistaken me for his old granny, and was therefore invisible.
So, I had to drink white wine; I didn’t want a repeat of the last red wine episode with the projectile vomiting – I would’ve drowned. And, I had to get on a train and travel by myself to get home so didn’t want to end up toooooo pissed. So there was me, standing at the train station and admiring my sobriety and the fact that I’d only drunk one bottle when Herman disabused me of that; he just hadn’t brought the bottles into the living room. Well I was pretty well-oiled, but got home safely, and am still alive.
We met about eight years ago when we were working in the psychic centre. One of us had the bright idea that I go back there to work, for now. I think it was me; I was worried about my poor old references having to be bothered again for all these jobs I’m going to be applying for; I won’t need one there. So, I called them this morning…and they remembered me. There’s probably going to be an opening in a couple of weeks and in the meantime I can refresh my skills with the lovely tarot cards. I think this is all a great idea because there’s a lot of psychic and pagan stuff in the novel; it’ll be good for me to be steeped in it all again. I’ve spent most of this morning studying and playing with some of my cards. I’ve got three packs here but no books; the books are all packed away somewhere and I know that some of them GOT IT in the fire. But I’ve got stuff in the laptop, enough for now. One of the packs hasn’t been used but the book is still somewhere in the box; it’s called The Greenwood Tarot – some amazing images, but different from most other tarot so I’ll need to find the book. My other two are old favourites; The Shakespeare Tarot and the Native American Deck. I’m really looking forward to doing this. Wonder if the place has changed much.
I had a few lovely drinks with Herman Saturday night; we got to sit out in the garden with our little tubs of melon (reduced), glass of wine and enjoy the strange and wonderful feeling of Glasgow sunshine. He’s house-sitting out in the burbs north of the city; quiet and lush grass under my bare feet. And the luxury of a huge telly to ignore while we babble on about god-knows-what, and my future, both work and medical; I’m still locked up – nothing wider than a finger can get between these teeth.
I spoke to a doctor from the face clinic on the phone the other morning, and told him how worried I was about being lock-jawed for three weeks, and whether I’ll stay like this forever, and is it wise to leave me until my appointment on the 17th. He said I’ll be okay. I’m just wondering how they’re going to get my jaw going again after all this time. I told him that I was thinking that my jaw might just fuse and never move again. I think he thought I was mad, but I had the impression that he was about fifteen and had mistaken me for his old granny, and was therefore invisible.
So, I had to drink white wine; I didn’t want a repeat of the last red wine episode with the projectile vomiting – I would’ve drowned. And, I had to get on a train and travel by myself to get home so didn’t want to end up toooooo pissed. So there was me, standing at the train station and admiring my sobriety and the fact that I’d only drunk one bottle when Herman disabused me of that; he just hadn’t brought the bottles into the living room. Well I was pretty well-oiled, but got home safely, and am still alive.
We met about eight years ago when we were working in the psychic centre. One of us had the bright idea that I go back there to work, for now. I think it was me; I was worried about my poor old references having to be bothered again for all these jobs I’m going to be applying for; I won’t need one there. So, I called them this morning…and they remembered me. There’s probably going to be an opening in a couple of weeks and in the meantime I can refresh my skills with the lovely tarot cards. I think this is all a great idea because there’s a lot of psychic and pagan stuff in the novel; it’ll be good for me to be steeped in it all again. I’ve spent most of this morning studying and playing with some of my cards. I’ve got three packs here but no books; the books are all packed away somewhere and I know that some of them GOT IT in the fire. But I’ve got stuff in the laptop, enough for now. One of the packs hasn’t been used but the book is still somewhere in the box; it’s called The Greenwood Tarot – some amazing images, but different from most other tarot so I’ll need to find the book. My other two are old favourites; The Shakespeare Tarot and the Native American Deck. I’m really looking forward to doing this. Wonder if the place has changed much.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
DREAMS AND NIGHTMARES
Not laughing open-mouthed yet; this is the fifth day lock-jawed and nothing has changed, not even after two whole days of antibiotics, and a bit of Friday. I'm beginning to hallucinate and dream of huge sandwiches in soft white bread or crisp baguette heaving with hams, pepperoni and jalopino peppers in fabulous sauces. I might be facing some kind of bombardment from gamma rays or lazers to demolish the stone, which is probably tiny. Or maybe I could just get someone to give me a good thump on the jaw. That's what Morag and Hamish said tonight, at the hospital.
She is looking great; even walking better/straighter than she was before. She said that's because the bag's not there; she was always aware of it and the fear of it coming off somehow. She's a new woman, and Hamish is elated at how good she is, compared to all the other times she's been in hospital. I know that the real difference is that this time the operation was elective and she was much stronger - not ill in fact, either before or after. They're so wary of feeling good, of calling down bad luck on themselves; they're not going to think too far forward - their minds are still full of all the other times when she was banging on death's door. Let's hope he's off on tour somewhere.
She is looking great; even walking better/straighter than she was before. She said that's because the bag's not there; she was always aware of it and the fear of it coming off somehow. She's a new woman, and Hamish is elated at how good she is, compared to all the other times she's been in hospital. I know that the real difference is that this time the operation was elective and she was much stronger - not ill in fact, either before or after. They're so wary of feeling good, of calling down bad luck on themselves; they're not going to think too far forward - their minds are still full of all the other times when she was banging on death's door. Let's hope he's off on tour somewhere.
Friday, August 24, 2007
LOCKED UP TIGHT
I went straight from work to casualty tonight; that's three days with lockjaw and cuppa soup, I thought it was time to do something. Three hours later I'm told, by the face specialist, that there is a stone in the saliva duct and that the gland is infected - which is why my jaw has siezed up. They x-rayed my head in a strange machine where I stood up, fitted my chin into a little shelf and the thing spun around my head. No, it was definitely the machine and not my head that was spinning, though I wouldn't have been surprised if it'd been the other way round. What a day I had at work; I'm sure I actually felt my mind drain out of my right ear as I answered the phone to my trainer who was in the process of assessing my calls. I bumbled through the fake call, trying to remember everything I was supposed to do; it's all these things at the same time that's getting me - not that I can't multi-task. I know that by this time next week it will all be fine but it just feels so awful right now. I've never felt so dumb!
The doctor gave me two courses of antibiotic to take together (well I assume I take both together) and paracetamol - free drugs are always welcome. Actually I was quite impressed because I was examined by two doctors, x-rayed and examined some more. The bad news is that I was supposed to be having a lovely drink with my friend Herman tomorrow night and will have to postpone because of the antibiotic, mainly, but also because I wouldn't be able to wolf down crisps and dip as well as I might. So, it's probably a good time to unpack some stuff properly and do a bit of housework in this flat.
I spoke to Carrie on the phone and she's a lot better, but need to stop her from drifting into the bitter ex camp...and there is a bit of flirting going on when HE pops in for a coffee. So, she's not out of the woods yet. He seems to be skipping gaily along, forgetting that he's broken her heart, and taking the friends tag a little too far - he just doesn't know when to stop.
I was right next door to Morag in the hospital tonight but missed the visiting time; but desperate to get home anyway - starving mostly. As soon as I arrived I got Musician to order a pizza - it took over an hour to get here but it was worth it. Eating was excruciating but I had to get some solid food down me. And now it's bedtime already. Nighty-night.
The doctor gave me two courses of antibiotic to take together (well I assume I take both together) and paracetamol - free drugs are always welcome. Actually I was quite impressed because I was examined by two doctors, x-rayed and examined some more. The bad news is that I was supposed to be having a lovely drink with my friend Herman tomorrow night and will have to postpone because of the antibiotic, mainly, but also because I wouldn't be able to wolf down crisps and dip as well as I might. So, it's probably a good time to unpack some stuff properly and do a bit of housework in this flat.
I spoke to Carrie on the phone and she's a lot better, but need to stop her from drifting into the bitter ex camp...and there is a bit of flirting going on when HE pops in for a coffee. So, she's not out of the woods yet. He seems to be skipping gaily along, forgetting that he's broken her heart, and taking the friends tag a little too far - he just doesn't know when to stop.
I was right next door to Morag in the hospital tonight but missed the visiting time; but desperate to get home anyway - starving mostly. As soon as I arrived I got Musician to order a pizza - it took over an hour to get here but it was worth it. Eating was excruciating but I had to get some solid food down me. And now it's bedtime already. Nighty-night.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
HOW ILL DO YOU HAVE TO BE?
I know I've always wanted to be different, create my own particular space in the world, but it's just getting ridiculous now - I've got some kind of lockjaw! Other people get colds and flu, broken wrists or tonsilitus. I've been on cuppa soup all day and now am pretty hungry. Of course I've shoved chocolate in there, but because I can't open my mouth I want all the things I can't fit in. I stood at the hot plate in the cafe at work this lunchtime and eyed up what looked like lovely mince with carrot and stuff; I was trying to make my jaw do the popping thing it was doing earlier but it wouldn't move, and pain was rearing its ugly head. I realised that I wouldn't be able to eat anything except soup and left the queue.
I had this about twenty years ago and it lasted for three days I think, but of course, I didn't go to the doctor, it went away and I never discovered what had happened. A few years later I had the most excruciating pain in my jaw every time I ate something really tasty and the more I tried the more it swelled. That lasted a day or so and went away, but when it happened again I did go see my doctor and she said I had a stone in my syliva duct. She sent me to hospital for tests and I felt so stupid by then because it had long gone. They had me lying on this mad machine with my head on a separate section; it was all very odd. I don't know whatever happened after that, about the results I mean.
I had the pain with tasty food earlier this year, for a couple of days; and now it's back with a vengeance; all symptoms together in the one place at the same time. The popping jaw is horrible, the click sounds loud as anything inside my head; every time I open and close my mouth the hinge of my jaw kind of bangs in and out of place - maybe I've dislocated my jaw! Maybe it would be a good idea to find out about this. I did call the doctor's office to ask if they could squeeze me in after work but they don't see patients after 5pm. They're not open at the weekend, so when can I get to see a doctor for a minor complaint? NEVER! it seems. I'm not taking a day off work for a minor thing and I wouldn't go to casualty, so I suppose I'll have to make an appointment for my day off and try to describe the symptoms. Wouldn't it be better all round if the doctor could see us when we were actually ill, and displaying said symptoms?
I had this about twenty years ago and it lasted for three days I think, but of course, I didn't go to the doctor, it went away and I never discovered what had happened. A few years later I had the most excruciating pain in my jaw every time I ate something really tasty and the more I tried the more it swelled. That lasted a day or so and went away, but when it happened again I did go see my doctor and she said I had a stone in my syliva duct. She sent me to hospital for tests and I felt so stupid by then because it had long gone. They had me lying on this mad machine with my head on a separate section; it was all very odd. I don't know whatever happened after that, about the results I mean.
I had the pain with tasty food earlier this year, for a couple of days; and now it's back with a vengeance; all symptoms together in the one place at the same time. The popping jaw is horrible, the click sounds loud as anything inside my head; every time I open and close my mouth the hinge of my jaw kind of bangs in and out of place - maybe I've dislocated my jaw! Maybe it would be a good idea to find out about this. I did call the doctor's office to ask if they could squeeze me in after work but they don't see patients after 5pm. They're not open at the weekend, so when can I get to see a doctor for a minor complaint? NEVER! it seems. I'm not taking a day off work for a minor thing and I wouldn't go to casualty, so I suppose I'll have to make an appointment for my day off and try to describe the symptoms. Wouldn't it be better all round if the doctor could see us when we were actually ill, and displaying said symptoms?
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
THE BAG IS GONE
I got to speak to Morag on the phone tonight; the staff nurse took the mobile unit to her - handy that. I called the High Dependency Unit this afternoon and they said that she'd been sent to a ward, and gave me the number. I couldn't get through to them because they were busy every time I tried. When I called tonight the ward said that she wasn't there, that she was in the HDU. My God - who the hell is in charge of this place?
She sounded good, just as if she was sitting at home on her sofa. She's been cut and trimmed and sewn up completely; no bag, no leaking holes - let's hope she stays that way. The main worry now is infection; that could kill her. After the operation they sent her from HDU to the ward far too early and she had to be taken back. Apparently the surgeon was mad as hell; he worked on her for nine hours. Hopefully I'll get up to see her by the weekend. She and her husband are ecstatic that the bag is gone - what a blight on a life is a stinky bag, outside the body, with the ever-present threat of bursting.
She sounded good, just as if she was sitting at home on her sofa. She's been cut and trimmed and sewn up completely; no bag, no leaking holes - let's hope she stays that way. The main worry now is infection; that could kill her. After the operation they sent her from HDU to the ward far too early and she had to be taken back. Apparently the surgeon was mad as hell; he worked on her for nine hours. Hopefully I'll get up to see her by the weekend. She and her husband are ecstatic that the bag is gone - what a blight on a life is a stinky bag, outside the body, with the ever-present threat of bursting.
Thursday, August 02, 2007
A BUSY LITTLE DAY
Well I got the lovely job; at least I hope it'll be lovely. I was out and about all day yesterday; all the things I had planned went off like a dream - timed to perfection.
I did my surfing at Amazon's new flat, had a bath and washed my hair there - because I'd given her my hairdrier and haven't found the other one yet. Then it was off to Morag's for lunch; she's kind of saying goodbye to her close friends and family because she goes in for a huge operation next Thursday and might not come out of it. She has Crohn's disease and had an operation that left her with a fistula (a hole in the wound that leaks into a bag) nearly two years ago. She could carry on living like that but she's had enough and wants to take the chance that they can successfully fix it. So I'm sending up prayers for her and if anyone wants to join in please do. It's an eight hour operation; a long time to be under the knife. My daughter was under for over five hours and that wait was a nightmare - especially after the surgeon had impressed upon us the fifty-fifty chance of death.
6pm found me and Musician buying tickets (buy one get one free with orange wednesday) to see TRANSFORMERS; it was a great movie - amazing how they make those intricate movements. Musician is always listening for interesting sounds; he'll get me to buy him DVDs so he can copy little snippets of sound, like explosions, and all kinds of whizz-bangs to use in his compositions.
Then it was straight back in a taxi for the third episode of HEROES on telly. It's so long since I saw the first two that I've forgotten a lot of it, but a little came back as I watched. I'll be working three twelve-hour shifts in the weeks to come and won't be able to follow all of it; working three days on and three off, but I haven't been able to follow serials for years - I'll buy it on DVD then I can have whole days to catch up.
I did my surfing at Amazon's new flat, had a bath and washed my hair there - because I'd given her my hairdrier and haven't found the other one yet. Then it was off to Morag's for lunch; she's kind of saying goodbye to her close friends and family because she goes in for a huge operation next Thursday and might not come out of it. She has Crohn's disease and had an operation that left her with a fistula (a hole in the wound that leaks into a bag) nearly two years ago. She could carry on living like that but she's had enough and wants to take the chance that they can successfully fix it. So I'm sending up prayers for her and if anyone wants to join in please do. It's an eight hour operation; a long time to be under the knife. My daughter was under for over five hours and that wait was a nightmare - especially after the surgeon had impressed upon us the fifty-fifty chance of death.
6pm found me and Musician buying tickets (buy one get one free with orange wednesday) to see TRANSFORMERS; it was a great movie - amazing how they make those intricate movements. Musician is always listening for interesting sounds; he'll get me to buy him DVDs so he can copy little snippets of sound, like explosions, and all kinds of whizz-bangs to use in his compositions.
Then it was straight back in a taxi for the third episode of HEROES on telly. It's so long since I saw the first two that I've forgotten a lot of it, but a little came back as I watched. I'll be working three twelve-hour shifts in the weeks to come and won't be able to follow all of it; working three days on and three off, but I haven't been able to follow serials for years - I'll buy it on DVD then I can have whole days to catch up.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
COMING BACK TO BLOGGER
I've been using Windows SPACES for the past few months; I made the move over there because they had great backgrounds and a slide show. I did enjoy some of my time over there but then they changed everything and blanked out my lovely dragon background; taking away my main reason for being there! the slide show is good, but I don't think it makes that much difference. My main reason for leaving there is, the quality of the neighbouring blogs is PANTS! Here, at Blogger, I can just pop over to the next blog and most probably find something I can read. I think they're all young bangers at Spaces - you can tell by the titles of their blogs!
What happened in the lost six months? Joy died on the 1st of September. I will post the story soon. I spent the following 9 weeks in Glasgow, waiting for new work to appear; living on my meagre savings then using up credit cards. I didn't think it would take so long to get more work. I think quite a few clients died last year so there was no work available. Eventually I was offered this client in Torquay; I'd been here before and quite enjoyed it, even though she was considered difficult. It has taken a long time to get back in the black, and I haven't been over to see Lulu in Spain for almost a year! She's had a hard time too - the shower business might be going down the pan.
A real case of Lazyitus set in and I haven't done much of anything in the blogging world for a few months. But, I have been writing, like a maniac. Maybe I'm on the path to my next career; I want something more relaxing and interesting for my old age; I need to stop running around the country. What I have learned over the past few years is that: wherever in the world I am, I will still do the same things - like, lying around watching DVDs. A whole series in a week; Buffy - one season every day. I was knackered by the end of it and my eyes were flickering; I had to watch the last episode with my hand over my eye because it wouldn't stop blinking! It never occurred to me to stop and leave it for the next day! So, it really doesn't matter where I am, which means I may as well be within reach of my family and friends. This year will be all change.
FEBRUARY 2007 Living with Musician
I woke up last Saturday morning with the sound of my left ear popping; ping-pong, ping-pong; open and closed; on and off. When I looked in the mirror the deformity was invisible. I diagnosed an ear infection; both ears had been rather itchy for a few months now, but I hadn’t got around to making a doctor’s appointment - I never do. I’ve had all kinds of mystery ailments over the years that I’ve suffered through, and they went away eventually. Once I had something wrong with my feet, which I diagnosed as fallen or falling, arches; the pain was incredible and I could hardly walk for a week, but it did go away. It’s pretty weird when one side of your head acts like it’s an appendage; it’s there but is not normal. Not a lot of pain, yet; I keep waiting for a piercing, surprise attack when I’m on the bus or something.
My sister-in-law has a course of anti-biotic with only one out; she doesn’t need it now, I forget why…I began taking them Saturday afternoon. It’s now Tuesday and they haven’t done a thing for me. I’m thinking that my diagnosis was wrong. I’m in the middle of cleaning No.2 son’s flat; I discovered last year that I’m, probably, allergic to dust. At first I thought I had become allergic to Glasgow because every time I visited I ended up scratching my eyes, sneezing and blowing my nose every half hour. Musician was living in my old flat at the time, which he never cleaned. Now, knowing this, and with the sneezing, eye-scratching, nose-blowing and added coughing and wheezing; I’m thinking that this is a serious case of allergy because this is a serious case of dust - his dust, which hasn’t been cleaned in over a year! So another diagnosis is yet to be proved; I will buy anti-histamine today and see what happens.
It’s raining; looking out of the filthy bedroom window I can just about see the pale ghost of the science centre and the tower looming up out of the misty rain. I’ve cleaned the other windows, just haven’t got to this one yet. I was planning to paint his wooden living room units black today but not a good day for drying gloss paint. I don’t know how I’m going to get my anti-histamine because I’m not going out in that rain and if I send him he’ll come back with the wrong stuff; need to wait till it stops, haven’t got any cash to give him anyway. I’ve spent a fortune on him since Friday, to get this place furnished and cleaned; there was no soap, toothpaste, washing-up liquid, soap powder, bleach, cleaning fluid, disinfectant - no brush, mop, dustpan or clothes drier. The smell is gradually leaving, or maybe I’m just getting used to it. No, it is much better; I’ve still got to wash down walls and doors and skirting boards but I’m not painting and decorating; he can do that himself, later, if he feels like it, which he won’t. He’ll be 27 this year; I’m looking at this as his inheritance. It’s another chance for him to change, to begin from scratch, to learn that he likes some kind of clean and wants to try and keep it. We’ll see.
Sunday, April 30, 2006
SUPER HEROES
I’ve only got one day to go now then I’ll be off to sunny Spain. I just had an email from Lulu; that daft Lexy is over there and she’s lost her purse; apparently she and Bitsy were pissed in one – or more probably, a few of the local bars, and someone’s lifted the purse when she wasn’t looking….probably when she was lying in the gutter! She’s too blonde to be sensible.
Still no sign of the bloody hoist and, it’s Gent’s birthday on Wednesday; bank holiday tomorrow so it won’t be arriving then. Joy is very tired; her walking is pretty bad and she’s a lot more breathless when walking than even a few weeks ago. She did the knickers thing again last night. Fi is just going to love this report, and she’ll have to deal with Gent coming out of hospital now. It’s hard to tell just how he is; how long he’ll be around. He usually eats very well when he’s at home, and the one-to-one care really helps him rebuild…but he’s pretty wasted and thin and isn’t weight–bearing; so getting him back on his feet will be a hard job, and it might be that he’ll never get back up there. I hope he gets the summer anyway. And then again, maybe Joy will be the one to slip away first.
My really Scottish friends, Morag and Hamish, have just become grandparents for the first time, and they get a granddaughter right away. Morag has just got out of hospital on Tuesday; she’s got Crohn’s disease, and was in for four months this time. When I first started my travels, she was in a coma; this lasted for four months; it came out of an operation…so then after she woke up so miraculously, she got that flesh-eating bug and MRSA. In the end she was in hospital for about eleven months! I think it’s pretty evident that she is immortal, and cannot be killed. I should create a super hero costume for her.
Still no sign of the bloody hoist and, it’s Gent’s birthday on Wednesday; bank holiday tomorrow so it won’t be arriving then. Joy is very tired; her walking is pretty bad and she’s a lot more breathless when walking than even a few weeks ago. She did the knickers thing again last night. Fi is just going to love this report, and she’ll have to deal with Gent coming out of hospital now. It’s hard to tell just how he is; how long he’ll be around. He usually eats very well when he’s at home, and the one-to-one care really helps him rebuild…but he’s pretty wasted and thin and isn’t weight–bearing; so getting him back on his feet will be a hard job, and it might be that he’ll never get back up there. I hope he gets the summer anyway. And then again, maybe Joy will be the one to slip away first.
My really Scottish friends, Morag and Hamish, have just become grandparents for the first time, and they get a granddaughter right away. Morag has just got out of hospital on Tuesday; she’s got Crohn’s disease, and was in for four months this time. When I first started my travels, she was in a coma; this lasted for four months; it came out of an operation…so then after she woke up so miraculously, she got that flesh-eating bug and MRSA. In the end she was in hospital for about eleven months! I think it’s pretty evident that she is immortal, and cannot be killed. I should create a super hero costume for her.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
BEST LAID PLANS
I made a falling-apart fruit n carrot cake; it had sweet potato in it instead of carrot – pretty damn nice actually, though the sweet potato seems to have pretty much disappeared.
Last few days Gent has swung from death’s door to coming home to very poorly again. We couldn’t take Joy to see him today because he has some kind of infection and they don’t know what it is yet, and don’t want Joy to catch anything. He’s been put on antibiotics today because of a urine infection, he probably got from the catheter; they think it might be a side effect of the antibiotics. He was so happy yesterday when the doctor said he could go home for Easter. The occupational therapist came today to see what we would need to accommodate this new Gent. We measured their bedroom, and made rearrangement plans, then the cleaner and I emptied chests of drawers and got rid of furniture we don’t really need in the room. And the son tried to get a new bed base to accommodate the hoist, with no luck. I don’t think they’ll let Gent out now anyway.
I’ve been crocheting a blanket for Fi; I make these blankets while I’m working and force them on family - running out of family members so have started on friends and colleagues. Joy and Gent got a rug each for their xmas. This is a photo of one I made earlier for my nephew; he wanted it to be red, white and blue - he's a Glasgow Rangers fan. The colours aren’t right in the photo, the red isn’t that orange, must be the flash.
This is a great job; I get to sit and watch telly, doze in the afternoon, and create rugs, artwork, photographs, write, read and many other things depending on the client. I began crocheting when I was looking after a woman near Plymouth; she spent all day watching telly and wanted me to sit with her. I like being productive so I did the rugs while watching daytime TV and ended up with a Repetitive Strain Injury from pulling at the wool!
Last few days Gent has swung from death’s door to coming home to very poorly again. We couldn’t take Joy to see him today because he has some kind of infection and they don’t know what it is yet, and don’t want Joy to catch anything. He’s been put on antibiotics today because of a urine infection, he probably got from the catheter; they think it might be a side effect of the antibiotics. He was so happy yesterday when the doctor said he could go home for Easter. The occupational therapist came today to see what we would need to accommodate this new Gent. We measured their bedroom, and made rearrangement plans, then the cleaner and I emptied chests of drawers and got rid of furniture we don’t really need in the room. And the son tried to get a new bed base to accommodate the hoist, with no luck. I don’t think they’ll let Gent out now anyway.
I’ve been crocheting a blanket for Fi; I make these blankets while I’m working and force them on family - running out of family members so have started on friends and colleagues. Joy and Gent got a rug each for their xmas. This is a photo of one I made earlier for my nephew; he wanted it to be red, white and blue - he's a Glasgow Rangers fan. The colours aren’t right in the photo, the red isn’t that orange, must be the flash.
This is a great job; I get to sit and watch telly, doze in the afternoon, and create rugs, artwork, photographs, write, read and many other things depending on the client. I began crocheting when I was looking after a woman near Plymouth; she spent all day watching telly and wanted me to sit with her. I like being productive so I did the rugs while watching daytime TV and ended up with a Repetitive Strain Injury from pulling at the wool!
Saturday, April 01, 2006
REPORTING FROM DEVON
This is the beginning, my first blog entry. I did plan to do this last month…as you can see below, but I didn’t get it started, so I thought I may as well keep the Spanish stuff in, ‘cause it’s all part of the……no, I just want to make everyone who is or was snow-bound, aware that there really is other weather in this world.
I’m back in lovely Devon, looking after my old couple. He is still in hospital; went in last week with a chest infection. The hospital has been closed with that diarrhoea (can’t believe I’ve remembered how to spell that) and vomiting bug, so we haven’t been able to visit him. They’ve been married almost 60 years and call each other ‘My darling’…they are both 95 years old and the sweetest people I’ve ever met. I should give them a name, let’s say that she is a Joy and he is a Gent. So it’s just me and Joy in the house and she goes to bed as early as she can get away with, which gives me the whole night to myself (I can’t go out) to laze about watching telly and hiding from chocolate biscuits. I have an exercise bike in my room but it sits beside the telly with the seat unpolished by my ample bottom…though I am really trying to give it some thought.
Was a little worried yesterday because the hospital called and said that we should come down. He’d seemed a little ethereal and angelic the day before, and they described him as unresponsive. So I woke Joy up from her afternoon nap and stuffed her in a local taxi (our friend and neighbour who usually takes us in on a weekend trip) hoping that Gent wasn’t on his way up the heavenly stairway. He looked flushed, wearing a cardigan over his PJs, and there was a knitted, patchwork rug on the bed (very badly sewn-up). I wondered if he had a temperature, but they said he didn’t. He seemed alright though, voice not wavering or fading and no sign of the chest infection.
It seems as if he might get over this, but the fact that he had a mini-stroke (TIA) the week before just underlines this year as, probably his last. 95 is a great age to achieve, but if he hadn’t had the year he had last year he might’ve made the ton.
MARCH ALREADY
I’m sitting in Spain, soaking up the lovely Alicante sun while snow sweeps the UK. I arrived just 2 days ago after working for 3 weeks 24/7….so I deserve it! When I was here last month it was pretty cold and wet; I became a hermit and stayed in bed with the laptop and loads of DVDs only getting out to make tea and food and visit the bathroom. Yesterday wasn’t quite so warm but at least it wasn’t snowing or raining. Today the sun was hot and the sky blue, and I was prostrate on a mat on my terrace, keeping company with some kind of huge insect; maybe an enormous cricket or something like it. But we didn’t bother each other and there’s plenty of room as long as there is no biting or stinging going on.
At the moment I am working in Devon as a live-in carer and living in Spain the rest of the time…kind of 3 weeks on 3 weeks off, or whatever suits my fancy. It’s a great life and I’ve got the best of both worlds, where the weather’s concerned; Devon is usually very mild and summer stretches forever compared with Glasgow summers (if you blink you’ll miss it!). I drag my trusty laptop around with me and write, read, footer about with photos, watch movies, play music, surf (I have an account with AOL so I can plug in anywhere). I have bits of arty stuff, wool and embroidery threads so that when a creative thought or idea hits me I can do anything…except pottery and darkroom developing. But it seems I miss them and my grandchildren so much that I’m in the process of trucking back to Glasgow, for a year or two at least.
I took myself off on a photo shoot down to Santa Pola, a couple of miles from here, Los Arenales, which is just a few miles down the coast from Alicante. Very Spanish; no hotels or football supporters or British drunks. Had a little picnic in the car waiting for the sun to go down; got some fantastic stuff on my new 8 mega pixel Samsung Digimax V800. It’s a nice little camera but in a lot of ways I think I preferred my Kodak; the only thing that bothered me about it was that the lens cover was always slipping off.
RECENT HISTORY
I’m a granny who ran away, finally grabbing the freedom I'd always wanted. In the end, when I was approaching 49, I had to give myself a deadline, set a date. I’d been ranting for years about this freedom and what I was going to do with it, so I wrote on the kitchen wall ‘1st August’ and tried to clear out some of my clutter; every time I left the house I took a carrier bag of books and gave them away. These were the very books Herman and I had lugged from the old flat to this new one only a year before, and the bookcases had been weeded out then too.
Preparing to leave was exciting but in the back of my mind there was this feeling that it wouldn’t really happen, that something would drag me kicking and screaming from my plans. My family probably didn’t believe I’d go either but, the great day arrived and I packed up the car, hugged two of my children and a grandson (I’d already said goodbye to my other son and his sons the day before) and suddenly I was driving out of the street, away from sunny Govan and grey Glasgow, down the M8 to the M74, heading south to my future. All I knew was that I was heading for Devon; my daughter had worked there for a year and I’d visited a couple of times, been so impressed with the mild climate and the people that I’d decided that Devon was as good a place to start as any. Exeter seemed to be the point I was aiming for.
I’m back in lovely Devon, looking after my old couple. He is still in hospital; went in last week with a chest infection. The hospital has been closed with that diarrhoea (can’t believe I’ve remembered how to spell that) and vomiting bug, so we haven’t been able to visit him. They’ve been married almost 60 years and call each other ‘My darling’…they are both 95 years old and the sweetest people I’ve ever met. I should give them a name, let’s say that she is a Joy and he is a Gent. So it’s just me and Joy in the house and she goes to bed as early as she can get away with, which gives me the whole night to myself (I can’t go out) to laze about watching telly and hiding from chocolate biscuits. I have an exercise bike in my room but it sits beside the telly with the seat unpolished by my ample bottom…though I am really trying to give it some thought.
Was a little worried yesterday because the hospital called and said that we should come down. He’d seemed a little ethereal and angelic the day before, and they described him as unresponsive. So I woke Joy up from her afternoon nap and stuffed her in a local taxi (our friend and neighbour who usually takes us in on a weekend trip) hoping that Gent wasn’t on his way up the heavenly stairway. He looked flushed, wearing a cardigan over his PJs, and there was a knitted, patchwork rug on the bed (very badly sewn-up). I wondered if he had a temperature, but they said he didn’t. He seemed alright though, voice not wavering or fading and no sign of the chest infection.
It seems as if he might get over this, but the fact that he had a mini-stroke (TIA) the week before just underlines this year as, probably his last. 95 is a great age to achieve, but if he hadn’t had the year he had last year he might’ve made the ton.
MARCH ALREADY
I’m sitting in Spain, soaking up the lovely Alicante sun while snow sweeps the UK. I arrived just 2 days ago after working for 3 weeks 24/7….so I deserve it! When I was here last month it was pretty cold and wet; I became a hermit and stayed in bed with the laptop and loads of DVDs only getting out to make tea and food and visit the bathroom. Yesterday wasn’t quite so warm but at least it wasn’t snowing or raining. Today the sun was hot and the sky blue, and I was prostrate on a mat on my terrace, keeping company with some kind of huge insect; maybe an enormous cricket or something like it. But we didn’t bother each other and there’s plenty of room as long as there is no biting or stinging going on.
At the moment I am working in Devon as a live-in carer and living in Spain the rest of the time…kind of 3 weeks on 3 weeks off, or whatever suits my fancy. It’s a great life and I’ve got the best of both worlds, where the weather’s concerned; Devon is usually very mild and summer stretches forever compared with Glasgow summers (if you blink you’ll miss it!). I drag my trusty laptop around with me and write, read, footer about with photos, watch movies, play music, surf (I have an account with AOL so I can plug in anywhere). I have bits of arty stuff, wool and embroidery threads so that when a creative thought or idea hits me I can do anything…except pottery and darkroom developing. But it seems I miss them and my grandchildren so much that I’m in the process of trucking back to Glasgow, for a year or two at least.
I took myself off on a photo shoot down to Santa Pola, a couple of miles from here, Los Arenales, which is just a few miles down the coast from Alicante. Very Spanish; no hotels or football supporters or British drunks. Had a little picnic in the car waiting for the sun to go down; got some fantastic stuff on my new 8 mega pixel Samsung Digimax V800. It’s a nice little camera but in a lot of ways I think I preferred my Kodak; the only thing that bothered me about it was that the lens cover was always slipping off.
RECENT HISTORY
I’m a granny who ran away, finally grabbing the freedom I'd always wanted. In the end, when I was approaching 49, I had to give myself a deadline, set a date. I’d been ranting for years about this freedom and what I was going to do with it, so I wrote on the kitchen wall ‘1st August’ and tried to clear out some of my clutter; every time I left the house I took a carrier bag of books and gave them away. These were the very books Herman and I had lugged from the old flat to this new one only a year before, and the bookcases had been weeded out then too.
Preparing to leave was exciting but in the back of my mind there was this feeling that it wouldn’t really happen, that something would drag me kicking and screaming from my plans. My family probably didn’t believe I’d go either but, the great day arrived and I packed up the car, hugged two of my children and a grandson (I’d already said goodbye to my other son and his sons the day before) and suddenly I was driving out of the street, away from sunny Govan and grey Glasgow, down the M8 to the M74, heading south to my future. All I knew was that I was heading for Devon; my daughter had worked there for a year and I’d visited a couple of times, been so impressed with the mild climate and the people that I’d decided that Devon was as good a place to start as any. Exeter seemed to be the point I was aiming for.
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