Blog 54 d...Home Safe and Sound...
Well I am not cured, but it was a good try and I told my
family doctor about the treatment and that it must definitely be trouble in the
water works department: the reaction was a shock…'Er no! Do not go about
talking about hocus -pocus : if you get an appointment with any consultant or
an MRI Scan do not under any circumstances mention the Bio Cranial malarkey’:
is the jist of what he said… so it was back to square one; join the waiting
list for an MRI Scan [usual time can be up to 18 months unless you can afford
to pay for it, that wasn’t an option.] Whilst waiting for the appointment I had
further blood tests, more antibiotics and pain killers and several different
investigations; the hardest of which was a biopsy on a Christmas Eve!
When I got the appointment date through the post my heart
sank. Then I had to switch to composed mother mode quickly and get Christmas organised.
[those of you who know me know it’s my all-time favourite part of the year!] Both
boys were in the Nativity at Church on Christmas Eve afternoon. I just knew
that even though it was a morning appointment I wasn’t going to get to the
church and to make matters worse I’m such a coward I really wanted ‘Hubby’ with
me when I went into hospital. My niece stepped up to the mark and volunteered
to take them both to the church, watch the Nativity and then drive them to a
local burger place for a special supper. Mention of that and they both forgot
to ask me why I wasn’t going with them!
So, with presents wrapped and hidden, food bought and the Christmas
table organised; I was prepared for the biopsy. I never thought of the results
until I got to the hospital and was sitting in my hospital shirt, holding a
pillow, surgical socks [not a pretty sight even when brand new and brilliant
white.] pressing on my varicose veins and my name on a wrist band. OMG I might
very well be dying and I’ve missed the last Nativity my boys are in. As the
tears began to flow I felt such a twit and I realised that I hadn’t kissed the
‘Hubby’ and told him I loved him. What happens if something goes wrong, I’m not
good with anaesthetics, past experiences at the dentist proved that. I suddenly
realised I was sobbing when the male nurse approached me to take me into the theatre
prep area where he was meant to attach some heart monitor plasters on my chest
and give me an injection. So distressed was I, I couldn’t raise a smile or
think of anything funny to say to relieve the tension…which shows how bad I was
as normally I would have said something stupid like: “It’s a long time since a
young man has asked me to do that!” in reply to his request of ‘if you just lie
down…you’ll just feel a little prick…’
As you can gather I survived the operation, I recovered,
although the poor old chap in the recovery room next to me didn’t…and I wasn’t
dreaming; I could hear the nurses and the panic in their voices, I could hear alot of shuffling and quick footsteps and then I could sense
the moving of my trolley as they pushed me across the bay whilst they kept
calling his name. I had a nurse sitting next to me and eventually once my eyes
stayed open and my monitor showed I was okay I was wheeled back to the ward
where ‘Hubby’ was waiting, the stress on his face making him look worse than
me! He handed me the bottle of water we had brought in, and he kept talking about
anything and everything whilst I sozzled away all the water. This was my master
plan: he was to stop me from sleeping, I was to drink as much as I could and
use the bathroom…they never let you go home until you have ‘been’…and if our
plan worked then I would be home safe and sound otherwise I’d be stuck in
overnight and no one wants that!
The plan worked, ‘Hubby’ helped me to get dressed and then
the explanation about the results followed plus also the talk about the after
effects and possible infection and any loss of blood etc which was all followed
by ‘Have a great Christmas’ which was still ringing in my ears as we got out to
the car park. Did the nurse know something I didn’t? Was this going to be my
last Christmas?!
Safe to say I have had
3 Christmases since then…so that particular episode can now be relegated to the
past! The results came back okay as well, so again there was no diagnosis for the pain.
I have to say that over time I have been worn down once
again by the pain and hit rock bottom. But let’s not talk anymore about that…there
is news to share on the pain front [back actually!]but it can wait…it has no
bearing on today’s Blog at all…which by the way I am finding quite therapeutic:
not too sure if the children would think along those lines having their lives
exposed across the internet!
When I talk about the children they are 2 teenage boys, the ‘Intelligent
one’ and the ‘Cutie- pie’, and then there’s the ‘Bridezilla!’ Aptly named due to
the wonderful news of her engagement and the fact that after all these years
she will be moving out…boo hoo and genuinely so! To be out-numbered by males
at 3 to 1 is hard especially when it comes to the TV choices or take away
choices or quite honestly any family choices which involve a decision: like for
example when ‘Hubby’ came home and said that he’d been looking at holidays on
the web. Wow! This was sooo exciting… ‘Hubby’ had planned a holiday without any
problems and interference; he must have taken on board everything we had all
said about what we would each like from a holiday and gone and booked the ideal
place!!
Ah yes, you've guessed it; there is absolutely no
way the ‘Hubby’ had booked a romantic, sea-side get away…I was stupid to even
think about joining the local slimming club with great gusto to get into a
bikini…what was I thinking when I spent a full Sunday afternoon planning the
family’s wardrobe entirely from the latest catalogue? I had ordered perfect matching colour
schemes for each day, sexy, backless clothes for the evening strolls, fabulous
strappy sandals and matching handbag…the boys would look so great in the khaki
shorts and white t-shirts…etc. etc. I was lost in a haze of summer time and
just thinking about the sunshine took away all the depression that we all feel
in the those long cold months of winter when everyone’s thoughts turn
to warmer climates. Ah yes…I should have checked the secret location before the
clothes parcels started to arrive… the alarm bells should have rung loud and
clear at the comment: “What do you need all that for?”
So right then I said, spill the beans if I do not need new
clothes and the boys do not need new clothes and you are turning your nose up
at the colour of these t-shirts…where are we going? Did I flinch when he said
that colour of yellow will frighten the fish? OMG yes you probably realised a
damn site quicker than I did…with the word FISH swimming in my ears [pardon the
pun] I could hardly get the words out…fishing in Majorca?? Ha don’t be silly,
Skegness!! ‘Hubby’ had found the perfect caravan site with 2 Fishing Lakes…it has
modern caravans with central heating, site shop, not far from the village and
it’s a short drive away from Skegness if we fancy one day having a run out…the
clue by the way is in the words ‘one day’…So that was the plan; we were going
on a fishing holiday; to a site where the fishing lakes were literally on the
doorstep of the caravan, so close you could set up your rod, throw your bait
and nip back for breakfast whilst keeping one eye on the rod from the window or
the doorway of the caravan. A fisherman’s dream. The family of males' dreams. Not mine.
The journey was just unbelievable…2kids, 2 adults, 3 fishing
rods, tackle baskets, 4 pillows, 3 duvets [yes we had to provide our own
bedding] wellingtons, waterproofs, picnic cooler basket, a week’s worth of
cereal, jam, butter, marmalade, eggs, porridge, [don’t you just love self-
catering…it’s like home from home.] toilet paper, toiletries, washing powder,
sun tan cream [I was living in hope] sun hats, woollies…all in the Kia Picanto and
on the Kia Picanto roof rack and when you have sat for miles, and I do mean miles,
with your feet wedged in between boxes and clothes somehow your early
excitement of the great escape just disappears. I shouldn’t go on really but I
can’t leave you in suspense: yes the caravan was as bad as you are
imagining…that is if you can imagine the smell of the caravan as we opened the
door…obviously previous occupants had been fishing for a fortnight round the
clock in the same clothes and wet boots. Even opening all windows and doors did
little to ease the sour stench…perhaps supper out in the village would perk us
all up: can you believe that the village shuts early on a Friday afternoon?!
There’s a small fish and chip shop
still open where you can dine in along with the swarm of flies…I do mean small and I do mean swarm… all for the
very good price of £45…what for 4 fish and chip suppers? Ah well we are on
holiday.
All the caravans are identical, all facing a beautifully
landscaped lake and I suppose if blinded by the sun reflecting off the water
then ‘Hubby’ can be forgiven for what he did…one morning the boys and I were
having a lazy breakfast watching the ducks and the ‘Hubby’ on the water’s edge,
quite relaxing actually to be tucking into egg and bacon with a nice pot of
tea…when suddenly he shot up off his chair and quickly walked towards the
caravan. We watched, mouths open, as he walked straight past our caravan window
and up the steps of the neighbouring caravan, walking through their lounge
towards the bathroom for his morning constitutional sit down with a newspaper:
had it not been for the newspaper which was not where he had left it; so he had
to look around in the bedroom ; he would not have noticed that a] the woman
standing washing up at the sink was not his wifey, b] the bedroom he was
ransacking was not as sweet smelling as ours had become and c] the toilet was
occupied already by a whistling fisherman…I kid ye not when the realisation
that he was in the wrong caravan finally dawned; he suddenly looked up and saw the
three of us standing horrified at our kitchen window…shouting : “What the hell
are you doing daddy?” He ran out of the door turning only to apologise to the fisherman’s wife before fleeing desperately into his own caravan and
toilet…minus his morning paper!
Indeed even all the fishermen and their boys and their wives,
come to that matter, are identical: they sit still on the banks of the lakes
telepathically willing the fish to jump out. You must never speak when they are
concentrating but you must be able to read their minds and know when they need
that extra cup of coffee or the bacon butty. Truth is that on the first day
there, once the 3 of them were happily sitting on their special chairs, the
peace and quiet of the caravan site enveloped me and I decided that I could
watch the Sky programmes I don’t have at home [don’t have Sky] and so I lie down
on the long sofa that I have sprayed with perfume and prop myself with pillows
and a cup of coffee and a packet of Jaffa cakes…no point in dieting now… and
begin to flick through the channels: not only is there interference but I
cannot get the Sky to work…who told me there was Sky? The ‘Hubby’ is puzzled he
hadn’t, ah well that’s because I had Googled the camp site and thought we were
in a luxury caravan…more fool me…so as I sit back down with a spotty telly and
watch day time TV Skegness style, the sun shining through the blinds and a cool
waft of air flows through the open door and I feel that possibly it isn’t going
to be that bad…WHOOSH!! The loudest, biggest noise I have ever heard cracks
across the sky and as I run out shouting to my kids and hubby to ‘take cover we
are under attack’ throwing myself down next to their chairs I notice I am the
only person moving, why was I the only one terrified by this imminent attack
from God knows who it is flying the F-16's? I feel the biggest fool of all
times: no one else is worried because everyone else knows we are in the direct
flight path of these American planes who do this amazing ‘air show ‘ of practice the same time
every day…good job I didn’t jump in the lake then and spoil someone’s
catch of the day…
Blog 54 e coming soon...next week same place...
Copyright ©GML2012
Copyright ©GML2012
Ha ha just what I needed and I remember that holiday too!
ReplyDeleteMakes you glad your hubby isn't a fisherman eh?! x
ReplyDelete