I rebelled yesterday, very quietly. So quietly in fact that I doubt anyone else noticed, aside from the fact that my rebellion resulted in a fair few exasperated looks and huffing sighs.
I think the "why" behind my rebellion is more important than the "how", it's also longer, lol. It was a stonkingly beautiful day yesterday. It was also Day 1 of the Festival of Hockey on the pitches across the path from us. So, not surprisingly, there was a fair bit of noise. Congestion resulting from people desperate to park as close to the pitches as possible, regardless of how unsafe it made it for others. I dreaded driving past those tightly packed cars, a child really could dash out from between those cars, uncaring of the potential dangers: same with dogs suddenly freed from their cars. Even at 5 or 10 mph a car could seriously damage a child or a dog. Not many of the adults seemed to understand this and that is positively frightening.
There's an encampment of travellers just beyond our road end. And they are letting their children run wild, pulling bark off trees, branches off trees, making holes in hedges, rubbish strewn everywhere - no respect. Usually there isn't an issue with travellers, but I'm not convinced these are our usual ones.
Then, of course, with good weather comes everyone else who has to enjoy the warmth and the sunshine with over loud, drunken laughter and pounding music. And yet most of our neighbours are actually quite quiet and make only everyday noise levels - odd how one or two households can be the absolute bain.
Yes, I know, I should move house. Trust me, as soon as I can, I shall be - somewhere quieter.
Mum didn't drink enough yesterday, so she was feeling sick. She wanted pandering to and, quite frankly, I had nothing to pander to her with.
And then there was the pressure - washing into machine, out of machine, onto line, off line, put away, next load; food.
So I refused to deal with the washing. I refused to cook, opting instead to use some spare housekeeping and go to the local Chinese - which suited dad (who wanted fish and chips), which suited my niece and me but not my sister. Ohhhhh the look I got when she realised she'd have to cook for herself. Did I opt for Chinese just because it would irritate my sister? Nah, I'm not that petty. I opted for Chinese because I was thinking just about myself - I wanted a chicken salad and they do a lovely chicken salad. Just so happens that being selfish tweaked the Soup Dragon's beak and I don't regret it for one minute.
So, this morning, brain said sleep, body said get up. For over an hour I had that contest rattling around in my head, eventually, just before 6 a.m. body won. But now I have the impatient dad, the piles of laundry (done & needing done) and a frustration level which is almost as high as the pain levels. Teeth are aching today, yeah, teeth - all my upper jaw teeth are aching. It's not like tooth ache cos there's no pressure or pain when I bite just a deep ache which makes me feel like all my teeth will fall out any time, but they don't. I know, because this isn't the first time I've had this. It's the death of the nerves, eventually the pain'll stop and all I have to do is wait it out.
Rebel Blue strikes today.
Rebel Blue would like to run away.
But I have to swallow it, put it down, shove it in a box because now I have to deal with the laundry, deal with the breakfasts, deal with the pills, deal with the dishes. It's not healthy, but it's the only way I can deal with it right now.
Saturday, 23 May 2015
Thursday, 21 May 2015
Beware Reflections
Today's been a day when I felt I needed space, I felt I needed fresh air. So taking care of business has been less comfy than it can be. Now that the rain has stopped and things have dried up, I actually managed to grab 10 minutes outside!
Mind you, there was great fun when I went to the veterinary surgery to collect Suki's needles (Suki's my diabetic cat). Apparently someone thought I was someone else and had decided to hide underneath a desk! Rather odd, fortunately I did not take the hilarity as personal - I could have done, but I didn't.
Mum said something last night, I'm not sure what reaction she was expecting but she certainly didn't get it.
"Good night," says I, after pills, lotions, drops and pad change. "Sleep well, see you in the morning." (My usual end of evening routine litany.)
"I might not be here in the morning." Replies Mum in a little voice. I stopped half way to the bedroom door and turned.
"Well, in that case, have a reasonable journey and I'll see you later."
That stumped her. If she was expecting hysterics, she never got them. If she was expecting a round of pleading and begging for her not to go, she never got it. Mum doesn't have much of a life these days, and I cannot begin to imagine her levels of frustration, desperation and despair. Whether I am ready for her to go or not, the final decision is her's and she's closer to that decision than not. It's an uncomfortable reality, but it's also life.
Then there was dad's request that I cut his toenails - he just can't bend over for long enough to cut them himself these days.
So, this afternoon after getting body & brain into semi-working order I got him sat down in a chair & me on a stool with the various files and cutters and set to work. As a diabetic it is important that we keep an eye on his legs and feet. He already had pretty poor circulation in his legs and one of his legs is now more purple than flesh coloured, that's been since his heart issues started. But, as he raised his other foot onto my knee I saw a green patch on the sole of his foot.
My first thought was "shit! gangrene!" Need to phone the doctor, or should it be an ambulance? Wait a minute, there is no smell of decay, the skin is still tight and not coming off in great gobbets (wonderful word that!). When I brush my fingers over the area there is good tonality, what is going on here? I change position slightly and notice that the colour on his foot disappears. What the . . .?
I'm wearing a green t-shirt, quite a vivid green. The light is reflecting off the t-shirt and onto his foot.
Fortunately, today, I can laugh at myself.
Fortunately, today, it is only a reflection.
SHIT what a day.
Mind you, there was great fun when I went to the veterinary surgery to collect Suki's needles (Suki's my diabetic cat). Apparently someone thought I was someone else and had decided to hide underneath a desk! Rather odd, fortunately I did not take the hilarity as personal - I could have done, but I didn't.
Mum said something last night, I'm not sure what reaction she was expecting but she certainly didn't get it.
"Good night," says I, after pills, lotions, drops and pad change. "Sleep well, see you in the morning." (My usual end of evening routine litany.)
"I might not be here in the morning." Replies Mum in a little voice. I stopped half way to the bedroom door and turned.
"Well, in that case, have a reasonable journey and I'll see you later."
That stumped her. If she was expecting hysterics, she never got them. If she was expecting a round of pleading and begging for her not to go, she never got it. Mum doesn't have much of a life these days, and I cannot begin to imagine her levels of frustration, desperation and despair. Whether I am ready for her to go or not, the final decision is her's and she's closer to that decision than not. It's an uncomfortable reality, but it's also life.
Then there was dad's request that I cut his toenails - he just can't bend over for long enough to cut them himself these days.
So, this afternoon after getting body & brain into semi-working order I got him sat down in a chair & me on a stool with the various files and cutters and set to work. As a diabetic it is important that we keep an eye on his legs and feet. He already had pretty poor circulation in his legs and one of his legs is now more purple than flesh coloured, that's been since his heart issues started. But, as he raised his other foot onto my knee I saw a green patch on the sole of his foot.
My first thought was "shit! gangrene!" Need to phone the doctor, or should it be an ambulance? Wait a minute, there is no smell of decay, the skin is still tight and not coming off in great gobbets (wonderful word that!). When I brush my fingers over the area there is good tonality, what is going on here? I change position slightly and notice that the colour on his foot disappears. What the . . .?
I'm wearing a green t-shirt, quite a vivid green. The light is reflecting off the t-shirt and onto his foot.
Fortunately, today, I can laugh at myself.
Fortunately, today, it is only a reflection.
SHIT what a day.
Wednesday, 20 May 2015
Up and down
Life is all about those ups and downs.
Dad treated me to half a tank of diesel this morning (well, my car, I personally don't partake of the diesel) - that's an "up".
My gut is slowly returning to normal after the savoury rice debacle - I'm pretty sure it was the spices. The amount of pain & bloating did make me wonder how on earth I ever managed to hold down a job while experiencing this full time. So, that's an "up".
Mum's doing not too badly at the moment - just routine stuff, nothing spectacularly amiss. That's an "up".
Dad's doing not too badly considering he was at the hospital yesterday & went shopping this morning. That's an "up".
A while ago, while sitting in a coffee shop I saw a chap with a walking stick & he had somehow managed to hang the walking stick off the side of the table. I was most curious, so I put my glasses on. He had some kind of triangular clip attached to it which was allowing it to balance and not fall all over the place. I admit, I wanted one. One of the things I hate about having to use a walking stick is, if you do sit down at a table, getting it perched right so that it's not going to fall on the floor or trip anyone up or take up a seat all of its own is impossible. With one of these beauties - SOLVED! So I set out trying to find one. Fortunately, I did find one and it was in one of my catalogues so I can "pay it up". It arrived today, who hoo - definitely an "UP".
Then I got an email from Amazon Kindle Direct. They have a royalty payment waiting for me. Oh boy, did I get all excited..! I've dreamt about being a published author for decades. I've fantasised about making a living from crafting words into pictures. I finally grabbed my courage in both hands and published earlier this year. When I read the terms and conditions I got the idea that I would have to have sales of £100 before I would get a payment, so, to get an email saying I had royalties pending you can imagine my utter gobsmackedness. Eagerly I followed the login info to the report page. No details. Ok, let's check the sales page . . . 2 copies, that's all I've sold is 2 copies :( So why am I getting a royalty payment? I won't refuse even £2 payment, won't make any kind of dent in my overdraft, but it's the principal. *sigh* "down".
Will see what actually arrives in my bank account around the end of this month. But since I was already struggling with a blockage in book 2, it doesn't really give me much of a reason to plough on. (Though I probably will, cos I enjoy reading my own work lol ).
Below is the walking stick holder.
Dad treated me to half a tank of diesel this morning (well, my car, I personally don't partake of the diesel) - that's an "up".
My gut is slowly returning to normal after the savoury rice debacle - I'm pretty sure it was the spices. The amount of pain & bloating did make me wonder how on earth I ever managed to hold down a job while experiencing this full time. So, that's an "up".
Mum's doing not too badly at the moment - just routine stuff, nothing spectacularly amiss. That's an "up".
Dad's doing not too badly considering he was at the hospital yesterday & went shopping this morning. That's an "up".
A while ago, while sitting in a coffee shop I saw a chap with a walking stick & he had somehow managed to hang the walking stick off the side of the table. I was most curious, so I put my glasses on. He had some kind of triangular clip attached to it which was allowing it to balance and not fall all over the place. I admit, I wanted one. One of the things I hate about having to use a walking stick is, if you do sit down at a table, getting it perched right so that it's not going to fall on the floor or trip anyone up or take up a seat all of its own is impossible. With one of these beauties - SOLVED! So I set out trying to find one. Fortunately, I did find one and it was in one of my catalogues so I can "pay it up". It arrived today, who hoo - definitely an "UP".
Then I got an email from Amazon Kindle Direct. They have a royalty payment waiting for me. Oh boy, did I get all excited..! I've dreamt about being a published author for decades. I've fantasised about making a living from crafting words into pictures. I finally grabbed my courage in both hands and published earlier this year. When I read the terms and conditions I got the idea that I would have to have sales of £100 before I would get a payment, so, to get an email saying I had royalties pending you can imagine my utter gobsmackedness. Eagerly I followed the login info to the report page. No details. Ok, let's check the sales page . . . 2 copies, that's all I've sold is 2 copies :( So why am I getting a royalty payment? I won't refuse even £2 payment, won't make any kind of dent in my overdraft, but it's the principal. *sigh* "down".
Will see what actually arrives in my bank account around the end of this month. But since I was already struggling with a blockage in book 2, it doesn't really give me much of a reason to plough on. (Though I probably will, cos I enjoy reading my own work lol ).
Below is the walking stick holder.
Monday, 18 May 2015
Some days!
There are some days when nothing quite goes right.
Whether that's trying to get an ATM machine to recognise your card, the car to start, the washing machine door to close, the cooker to light, saying the wrong thing at the wrong time despite the best of motives, forgetting what you went into a shop to get, finding you didn't have enough money in your purse (or opened the purse the wrong way & spilt changed everywhere).
The kind of day when it feels like the universe just wants you to go back to bed and start again.
*sigh*
Plus, I have the added complication today of my right little finger trying to twist itself into a pretzel shape. My tendons do this from time to time, usually it's my left foot turning inwards on itself making walking hard but, just for a change, it's my little finger. Bloody sore as well as inconvenient.
Oh well - if I have insulted or stepped on toes or said the wrong thing or misinterpreted what was said or done - my apologies, chances are I didn't mean it because, well, I usually don't make a habit of being snide or bitchy. It's just one of those days.
Whether that's trying to get an ATM machine to recognise your card, the car to start, the washing machine door to close, the cooker to light, saying the wrong thing at the wrong time despite the best of motives, forgetting what you went into a shop to get, finding you didn't have enough money in your purse (or opened the purse the wrong way & spilt changed everywhere).
The kind of day when it feels like the universe just wants you to go back to bed and start again.
*sigh*
Plus, I have the added complication today of my right little finger trying to twist itself into a pretzel shape. My tendons do this from time to time, usually it's my left foot turning inwards on itself making walking hard but, just for a change, it's my little finger. Bloody sore as well as inconvenient.
Oh well - if I have insulted or stepped on toes or said the wrong thing or misinterpreted what was said or done - my apologies, chances are I didn't mean it because, well, I usually don't make a habit of being snide or bitchy. It's just one of those days.
Sunday, 17 May 2015
If . . .
Yesterday was a bit of a bummer. I had my heart set on a particular top I'd seen on Tesco's F & F clothing page. £16 is a bit more than I'd usually be prepared to spend but if I get the wear out of it I would suspect I could, then £16 over a 2 year period isn't too bad. But the Tesco in Gala didn't have one, the Tesco in Dalkeith didn't have one, so I have to decide whether to try Tesco Direct or whether I just pass it up and sigh philosophically. You know, when I worked a regular job I didn't bat an eyelash at spending £16 on a top I know I'd wear a lot. But times are different now.
I don't know if my intolerance of sound is due to the fibro or due to the cacophony in my head or just my lack of ability to concentrate these days but I found myself tidying up the other day without music on. I find myself driving without background music a fair bit of the time. I'd rather no listen to ticking clocks either - something I've just noticed sitting here in the kitchen resting my sore legs & back before heading back to finish tidying up & doing dishes.
In a somewhat wishful frame of mind, I find myself wishing what if dad didn't feel the need to use 6 cups & mugs in a day and leave half of them dotted around the garden? What if I didn't have to tackle stairs many times every day? What if we had a kitchen designed for ease of use and not have to bend over or reach onto tiptoe so often? What if the cats actually ate everything in their bowel? What if I actually had a dish washer? What if we had a house on one level so that Mum could have a change of scenery, have her bed moved from the bedroom to the living room? What if I actually had an income again, instead of surviving on the charity of my family and getting a handout which one government dept says is enough to live on and another government depart says isn't enough to live on. What if I didn't have to juggle everyone's "need" for the washing machine all at the same time? What if I had a cat flap? What if 2 of my little darlings actually used the litter tray as they are supposed to and not bath mats?
Years ago, when I was younger, fitter, healthier and unweighed down by the bollocks of life, I would never have considered a dishwasher. I'd never have found myself wishing my car had an automatic transmission or a touch/close boot lid. These days I find myself being prepared to make all sorts of compromises simply so I can keep going.
Never mind, B12 injection tomorrow YAY By Wednesday my endurance should have increased a bit and my pain levels dropped a bit. Won't do anything for the other issues but an improvement in one area of life can lift one's perspective on the rest of it.
I don't know if my intolerance of sound is due to the fibro or due to the cacophony in my head or just my lack of ability to concentrate these days but I found myself tidying up the other day without music on. I find myself driving without background music a fair bit of the time. I'd rather no listen to ticking clocks either - something I've just noticed sitting here in the kitchen resting my sore legs & back before heading back to finish tidying up & doing dishes.
In a somewhat wishful frame of mind, I find myself wishing what if dad didn't feel the need to use 6 cups & mugs in a day and leave half of them dotted around the garden? What if I didn't have to tackle stairs many times every day? What if we had a kitchen designed for ease of use and not have to bend over or reach onto tiptoe so often? What if the cats actually ate everything in their bowel? What if I actually had a dish washer? What if we had a house on one level so that Mum could have a change of scenery, have her bed moved from the bedroom to the living room? What if I actually had an income again, instead of surviving on the charity of my family and getting a handout which one government dept says is enough to live on and another government depart says isn't enough to live on. What if I didn't have to juggle everyone's "need" for the washing machine all at the same time? What if I had a cat flap? What if 2 of my little darlings actually used the litter tray as they are supposed to and not bath mats?
Years ago, when I was younger, fitter, healthier and unweighed down by the bollocks of life, I would never have considered a dishwasher. I'd never have found myself wishing my car had an automatic transmission or a touch/close boot lid. These days I find myself being prepared to make all sorts of compromises simply so I can keep going.
Never mind, B12 injection tomorrow YAY By Wednesday my endurance should have increased a bit and my pain levels dropped a bit. Won't do anything for the other issues but an improvement in one area of life can lift one's perspective on the rest of it.
Friday, 15 May 2015
Bells and bows
I no longer have any trouble admitting I'm wrong - either in thought, perception or deed. I think most of us have an issue admitting guilt, especially as we learn as children that consequences for wrongful actions can be unpleasant. Being an adult means taking responsibility and the consequences.
Last year when my niece announced she was going to work in Norway, I have to admit I perceived it as a "wrong choice". I had a lot of convoluted layers for saying so, as well as a true & honest belief that it wasn't right. I'm glad to say I was proven wrong.
A lot of the time I keep my perceptions to myself, because I know full well that a person's path is their own. Sometimes, however, I do have to speak out. Many years ago I got over the fact that people, in general, don't want to hear what I have to say - even if they are the ones asking. So, there is no expectation on my part for the person on the receiving end to actually do what is suggested to them (even if I am subsequently proved correct). Many years ago I got over the fact that I could be called controlling or manipulative or just plain jealous when stating what I perceived - people just don't like to hear things sometimes, even if they ask.
So, my niece comes home from Norway, with her new man friend in tow. She's a popular lass, she's one of those rare people who can spread sunshine just by walking into a room - I know she doesn't see it, but she's looking from the inside out rather than the outside in. (Confused yet? lol)
I've met a few of her man friends before but I've never felt anything quite like what I felt from this one - and that's a good thing.
Before I go any further I should probably state this quite clearly - no human on the planet is a saint, each and every one of us has a dark corner or a shadow or something but that's the thing which makes us who we are. Our early lives, our early family scene or early friends all helped create the platform we subsequently present to the world. And so very few are aware of these foundations, and how they potentially make us darker or lighter in nature.
When I meet people I don't turn my "shamanic" gaze on them unless I'm invited or I sense a potential issue. I just size people up as everyone else does. I don't delve into people's minds & spirits at will or on a whim - this seems to surprise so many people. But it's a bit like walking past someone's house with the curtains open. I'll be aware of the house, of the curtains being open but I won't look into the window unless invited - that's the difference between someone who is nosey & someone who is respectful of privacy or boundaries.
This new man friend - I approve. Though my approval of her relationship is not required for her to have it - and I know this. Doesn't stop me having an opinion. He's as far from a controlling, manipulating, grandstanding person as I have come across so far and it is positively refreshing. But, what is far more important, is she is happy, right down to her toenails and it's a good happy. A happy without the blinkers. Here, finally, may be the person who can let her fly free but keep her grounded and give her a good, safe, comfy place to land.
How far will the relationship go? I have no idea, it's not my place to figure it out, that is something the two of them need to discuss. But, if my blessing is required or requested, the two of them have it with bells & bows.
Last year when my niece announced she was going to work in Norway, I have to admit I perceived it as a "wrong choice". I had a lot of convoluted layers for saying so, as well as a true & honest belief that it wasn't right. I'm glad to say I was proven wrong.
A lot of the time I keep my perceptions to myself, because I know full well that a person's path is their own. Sometimes, however, I do have to speak out. Many years ago I got over the fact that people, in general, don't want to hear what I have to say - even if they are the ones asking. So, there is no expectation on my part for the person on the receiving end to actually do what is suggested to them (even if I am subsequently proved correct). Many years ago I got over the fact that I could be called controlling or manipulative or just plain jealous when stating what I perceived - people just don't like to hear things sometimes, even if they ask.
So, my niece comes home from Norway, with her new man friend in tow. She's a popular lass, she's one of those rare people who can spread sunshine just by walking into a room - I know she doesn't see it, but she's looking from the inside out rather than the outside in. (Confused yet? lol)
I've met a few of her man friends before but I've never felt anything quite like what I felt from this one - and that's a good thing.
Before I go any further I should probably state this quite clearly - no human on the planet is a saint, each and every one of us has a dark corner or a shadow or something but that's the thing which makes us who we are. Our early lives, our early family scene or early friends all helped create the platform we subsequently present to the world. And so very few are aware of these foundations, and how they potentially make us darker or lighter in nature.
When I meet people I don't turn my "shamanic" gaze on them unless I'm invited or I sense a potential issue. I just size people up as everyone else does. I don't delve into people's minds & spirits at will or on a whim - this seems to surprise so many people. But it's a bit like walking past someone's house with the curtains open. I'll be aware of the house, of the curtains being open but I won't look into the window unless invited - that's the difference between someone who is nosey & someone who is respectful of privacy or boundaries.
This new man friend - I approve. Though my approval of her relationship is not required for her to have it - and I know this. Doesn't stop me having an opinion. He's as far from a controlling, manipulating, grandstanding person as I have come across so far and it is positively refreshing. But, what is far more important, is she is happy, right down to her toenails and it's a good happy. A happy without the blinkers. Here, finally, may be the person who can let her fly free but keep her grounded and give her a good, safe, comfy place to land.
How far will the relationship go? I have no idea, it's not my place to figure it out, that is something the two of them need to discuss. But, if my blessing is required or requested, the two of them have it with bells & bows.
Wednesday, 13 May 2015
Word for the day "Awesome"
It's been a day of 2 parts today.
First thing this morning, after body had decided it would graciously obey the mind's instructions to MOVE, I went out to feed the birds. (I'm going to have to create a new bird feeding station though, the one I have is falling apart.) I take a relatively large bucket with food out to put some on the wee table, some on the ground on the slabs and fill the actual feeder. Usually I hear all the birds in the surrounding hedges sound the battle drums, the call to breakfast!
Today I was also aware of being watched from the roof, the gutter just above the living room window to be precise. A solitary, and not very large, pigeon (most of our resident pigeons are quite substantial). What absolutely gorgeous colours it had.
Poor thing must have been hungry because as soon as I had tipped some seed onto the table it flapped in. I was still at the table, bending over, getting another beaker full. I heard the wings, I felt the down draft and I felt really quite humbled that the poor thing would risk my immediate presence.
I didn't freak, I didn't shriek, I just stayed bent over until the pigeon had made its mind up whether to try landing or return to the gutter.
It tried again as I put the seed on the ground.
Finally I just had to look at it and suggest it give me about 20 or 30 seconds to fill the feeder and step away. It gave me that look - the "are you talking to me" look.
Job finished, I stepped away, one step, just to see how desperate/brave the pigeon was. Yup, SWOOP! Straight in, wings about 6 inches from my nose.
AWESOME - I don't use that word lightly but I did feel it was a particularly awesome moment.
This was followed by the usual frenetic "breakfast" issues, followed by a delayed departure for dad's weekly shopping trip (due to an unscheduled, pre-breakfast trip into town by my sister, following a call from her son), followed by a "proper" shopping trip.
It was just after 1 p.m.when I finally got to stretch out on my bed, until then pain hadn't been too bad & all limbs worked reasonably well.
Just after 2 p.m. Mum shouts "I need help!"
I tried to spring out of bed, hit the floor running and see what the problem was. Reality, sit up - deal with resultant dizzy spell. Get feet on floor to find one foot seems to want to not work right. Try to stand up, immediately sit back onto bed, deal with more dizziness. Eventually get to feet. Hand braced against wall. Right foot still not wanting to work accompanied by this rather nasty red hot tearing pain around heel (which is already damaged) and ankle. Pause, deep breath, put down pain. Stagger through to Mum's room.
"I think I've had a bowel motion," I'm informed. Not exactly a 999 situation.
When you become a carer, in the sense of providing physical care, you soon learn there is nothing about someone else's body you will not become more familiar with than you might otherwise care to. Consequently, I know my mother's bowel habits as well as I know my own. So, when informed of this situation, I realise I am either headed to a "pebble" situation, a "turd" situation or a liquid mess situation. Worst one is the liquid one.
So, bearing in mind that body has not acclimatised to being in an upright position, right leg feels massive but empty, left leg is as iffy as it usually is and back is saying "don't you dare bend over yet".
Yes, I could raise Mum's bed up - it certainly has that facility. But, in order to deal with this situation, Mum needs to be on her side. If her bed is elevated she has a drop between her and dad's bed. Sooooo the choice is - raise the bed up, save my back but have Mum wobble around so much it's impossible to have 2 hands free OR have her bed down, propped against dad's bed and potentially injure my back. What a choice!
Situation sorted, everyone cleaned, freshened, ointment on etc etc etc. Mum a bit better frame of mind. Me? Back killing me, right leg filled with red hot liquid pain and left leg laughing at me when I instruct it to move.
So, aside from cooking, delivering & helping consumption of supper & putting a load of washing on, I haven't done much this afternoon. Now I seem to have a red hot steel spike in my right ankle, I do hope it eases off soon, it's a bloody nuisance.
First thing this morning, after body had decided it would graciously obey the mind's instructions to MOVE, I went out to feed the birds. (I'm going to have to create a new bird feeding station though, the one I have is falling apart.) I take a relatively large bucket with food out to put some on the wee table, some on the ground on the slabs and fill the actual feeder. Usually I hear all the birds in the surrounding hedges sound the battle drums, the call to breakfast!
Today I was also aware of being watched from the roof, the gutter just above the living room window to be precise. A solitary, and not very large, pigeon (most of our resident pigeons are quite substantial). What absolutely gorgeous colours it had.
Poor thing must have been hungry because as soon as I had tipped some seed onto the table it flapped in. I was still at the table, bending over, getting another beaker full. I heard the wings, I felt the down draft and I felt really quite humbled that the poor thing would risk my immediate presence.
I didn't freak, I didn't shriek, I just stayed bent over until the pigeon had made its mind up whether to try landing or return to the gutter.
It tried again as I put the seed on the ground.
Finally I just had to look at it and suggest it give me about 20 or 30 seconds to fill the feeder and step away. It gave me that look - the "are you talking to me" look.
Job finished, I stepped away, one step, just to see how desperate/brave the pigeon was. Yup, SWOOP! Straight in, wings about 6 inches from my nose.
AWESOME - I don't use that word lightly but I did feel it was a particularly awesome moment.
This was followed by the usual frenetic "breakfast" issues, followed by a delayed departure for dad's weekly shopping trip (due to an unscheduled, pre-breakfast trip into town by my sister, following a call from her son), followed by a "proper" shopping trip.
It was just after 1 p.m.when I finally got to stretch out on my bed, until then pain hadn't been too bad & all limbs worked reasonably well.
Just after 2 p.m. Mum shouts "I need help!"
I tried to spring out of bed, hit the floor running and see what the problem was. Reality, sit up - deal with resultant dizzy spell. Get feet on floor to find one foot seems to want to not work right. Try to stand up, immediately sit back onto bed, deal with more dizziness. Eventually get to feet. Hand braced against wall. Right foot still not wanting to work accompanied by this rather nasty red hot tearing pain around heel (which is already damaged) and ankle. Pause, deep breath, put down pain. Stagger through to Mum's room.
"I think I've had a bowel motion," I'm informed. Not exactly a 999 situation.
When you become a carer, in the sense of providing physical care, you soon learn there is nothing about someone else's body you will not become more familiar with than you might otherwise care to. Consequently, I know my mother's bowel habits as well as I know my own. So, when informed of this situation, I realise I am either headed to a "pebble" situation, a "turd" situation or a liquid mess situation. Worst one is the liquid one.
So, bearing in mind that body has not acclimatised to being in an upright position, right leg feels massive but empty, left leg is as iffy as it usually is and back is saying "don't you dare bend over yet".
Yes, I could raise Mum's bed up - it certainly has that facility. But, in order to deal with this situation, Mum needs to be on her side. If her bed is elevated she has a drop between her and dad's bed. Sooooo the choice is - raise the bed up, save my back but have Mum wobble around so much it's impossible to have 2 hands free OR have her bed down, propped against dad's bed and potentially injure my back. What a choice!
Situation sorted, everyone cleaned, freshened, ointment on etc etc etc. Mum a bit better frame of mind. Me? Back killing me, right leg filled with red hot liquid pain and left leg laughing at me when I instruct it to move.
So, aside from cooking, delivering & helping consumption of supper & putting a load of washing on, I haven't done much this afternoon. Now I seem to have a red hot steel spike in my right ankle, I do hope it eases off soon, it's a bloody nuisance.
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