Don't laugh - it's not like I was having fun at the end of the year so not posting isn't a surprise.
But despite it being a new year and a new decade, many things are exactly the same.
I downsized my car. Two of the cats needed dental surgery and it wasn't covered by our insurance. And we had a nearly new car sat outside, barely being used. So I sold it back to the dealership, bought an older car and used some of the money to pay the £600 odd vet bills. We have a small amount left and I am trying to make sure it doesn't get frittered away but it's not easy.
I'm writing again. It only started about a week or so ago, but I've written just under 10,000 words of a fanfiction story which is pretty amazing since based on my various journals and archiveofourown blogs it's been nearly four years.
Stripes and I are starting a new project. It was initially brought up because I was attending a diabetes eye check appointment and Stripes let me try on the scarf I had knitted for her about five/six years ago. It's an infinity scarf in either double or chunky knit and that thing is toasty!! I didn't want to give it back as it felt gorgeous. I did make myself an infinity scarf but my Marmee saw it and liked it so I ended up giving it to her. The next one I made for myself in a lovely brown shade, the teenager fell in love with so I gave it to her. Which leaves me without one.
So I decided I was going to make myself one, in a BRIGHT colour and it was going to stay as mine regardless of what anyone said. That then led to the idea of making knitted squares and making a quilt. So, Stripes and I have committed to knitting a square a month and at the end of the year, we're going to sew it together.
I have ordered an obscene amount of wool from eBay : bundles, offcuts and a few big cones. And we found a ball of wool in my knitting bag and started knitting. And it looks really good. So I'm impatiently waiting for the wool to arrive by post.
Teenager has not improved. She failed all of her mock exams and did the usual: cried, said she was disappointed, that she was going to do something different, then went right back to what she normally does. We had a phone call from the school and apparently, she's back to falling asleep in class, is regularly late, and has not been handing in assignments. She isn't going any of her chores at home and it's all incredibly frustrating and upsetting.
So yeah - new year, same old same old.
I will try to update this a bit more regularly though. I'll try!
Wednesday, 22 January 2020
Sunday, 29 September 2019
Where did I go wrong?
Good grief, it's been a really shit summer!
I came off my diet with a vengeance and put back on 2 stone. I'm incredibly jealous of a good friend because she managed to stick to her plan and has now lost 92 lbs. 92 lbs is barely a dent in what I need to lose overall but I didn't even manage that before I tripped myself over and managed to grab failure with both hands.
I think I'm back on plan. Today is day seven. But yet, once again, things with the youngest daughter are getting into my head and taking precedence. We found out that she hasn't completed work from her previous year of school and is going to fail at least one of her subjects. That doesn't even take into account the rest of her school report. The only thing she is passing is P.E.
So we're spending our evenings basically standing over her whilst she completes the components needed. And we get no thanks, no appreciation - in fact, we get resentful and attitude. And all of that makes me want to have MacDonalds on speed dial.
I attended some counselling over the summer. But it turned into yet one more thing that I was putting a face on for - trying to pretend I was more together than I actually was. So I stopped that. Family Support has turned out to be a bit of a bust for us. The focus is on the youngest, which means that it's all about how we can make her do the things she's supposed to do. Everyone involved bends over backwards trying to find ways to make her understand how important all of this is regarding school work and life, and she nods and smiles, or cries, apologises and says she is going to change. Then leaves the room and completely forgets everything she said.
It's so completely frustrating and I make myself even madder because then I spend time trying to figure out where I went wrong. My older two kids are great. I mean, okay the eldest is part of a church that sometimes seems almost cult like. And my middle daughter has taken over far too much responsibility including being my carer, some finance of the house, the pets, the youngest. It's not fair and I know it adds to her stress and anxiety and I wish I could do something about it.
But none of that explains why the youngest acts the way she does. Why she doesn't expect a single, solitary thing from her Dad but expects that me and her sister will do absolutely everything for her, put up with all of this, and do it with a smile on our faces and a song in our hearts. I spend so much time feeling like I could scream that my chest hurts.
Everything hurts. And sometimes I wish it would all just go away.
I came off my diet with a vengeance and put back on 2 stone. I'm incredibly jealous of a good friend because she managed to stick to her plan and has now lost 92 lbs. 92 lbs is barely a dent in what I need to lose overall but I didn't even manage that before I tripped myself over and managed to grab failure with both hands.
I think I'm back on plan. Today is day seven. But yet, once again, things with the youngest daughter are getting into my head and taking precedence. We found out that she hasn't completed work from her previous year of school and is going to fail at least one of her subjects. That doesn't even take into account the rest of her school report. The only thing she is passing is P.E.
So we're spending our evenings basically standing over her whilst she completes the components needed. And we get no thanks, no appreciation - in fact, we get resentful and attitude. And all of that makes me want to have MacDonalds on speed dial.
I attended some counselling over the summer. But it turned into yet one more thing that I was putting a face on for - trying to pretend I was more together than I actually was. So I stopped that. Family Support has turned out to be a bit of a bust for us. The focus is on the youngest, which means that it's all about how we can make her do the things she's supposed to do. Everyone involved bends over backwards trying to find ways to make her understand how important all of this is regarding school work and life, and she nods and smiles, or cries, apologises and says she is going to change. Then leaves the room and completely forgets everything she said.
It's so completely frustrating and I make myself even madder because then I spend time trying to figure out where I went wrong. My older two kids are great. I mean, okay the eldest is part of a church that sometimes seems almost cult like. And my middle daughter has taken over far too much responsibility including being my carer, some finance of the house, the pets, the youngest. It's not fair and I know it adds to her stress and anxiety and I wish I could do something about it.
But none of that explains why the youngest acts the way she does. Why she doesn't expect a single, solitary thing from her Dad but expects that me and her sister will do absolutely everything for her, put up with all of this, and do it with a smile on our faces and a song in our hearts. I spend so much time feeling like I could scream that my chest hurts.
Everything hurts. And sometimes I wish it would all just go away.
Monday, 9 September 2019
Figuring out me - unapologetically?
I can't be the only person who struggles with this.
How do you work out who you are, and what you want, without feeling like you need to apologise or add qualifiers or explain your thought processes so that you don't offend people?
I'm really struggling to work this out.
Example.
My family are coming up to Birmingham this weekend to celebrate my birthday with me. We're going to Cadbury World.
Do I want to go to Cadbury World? No, not really. I went a few years ago with friends from college and it was fun, but I don't think it's changed that much.
So why are we going to Cadbury World? Because when we were in Edinburgh, my cousin's girlfriend suggested it.
Well, if you didn't want to go, why did you agree?
Excellent question. The answer? Because I feel guilty about everyone travelling all the way up to Birmingham, just to see me. My dad will drive approximately 400 miles in one day, just to spend some time with me, and I figure if everyone is going to make such an effort, they should get to do something fun. Enter Cadbury World.
Of course, going to Cadbury World adds another layer of guilt. It's costing people about £17 each to go. On top of a meal out. So I feel guilty about people travelling up to see me, and agree to a fairly expensive day trip, and then feel guilty about them having to spend so much money, just to visit me.
Logically speaking, that's madness, right?
It would make so much more sense to have said no to Cadbury World, so I'd only feel guilty about them travelling up to see me.
Why do I feel guilty about them coming up to see me?
Because it's something I can't often do in return. They meet up every other month or so, for birthdays and Easter and so on, and I can't usually make it. This is for a variety of reasons:
My anxiety makes it difficult to travel.
I'm a carer at home, and don't really have a back up, so have to leave my mum on her own.
I'm not really on anyone's way to my Grandad's place in Feltham, so have to make my own way down. Train tickets cost a lot, and coach travel takes forever.
I do this a lot.
Feel guilty over things that I don't have a lot of control over, and then overcompensate by doing things I don't want to do, or going places I don't want to go to assuage my guilt. I then feel guilty for the added hassle that the thing or place causes.
How do I stop feeling guilty for everything?
That's a genuine question. This pattern of behaviour is one I replicate a lot, because feeling guilty for things, even things out of my control, is something I'm used to.
So how do I get un-used to it?
How do I figure out what I want, and not feel guilty, or like and inconvenience, or a burden?
How do I work out how to say what I want, politely but firmly, and stick to it?
Because this birthday thing? It's never going away. I have a birthday every year, and it's going to keep coming up.
Wanting to spend some time on my own at home, is something that's probably going to continue. I would have no problem with my mum or sister wanting to hang out on their own for a while, so why do I feel guilty for wanting to do the same thing?
Wanting to watch a certain TV programme shouldn't mean only watching it when everyone else is asleep or out of the room, so that I don't bother them with what I want to watch. I mean, sure, some stuff people aren't interested in, and being sensitive to that just makes me not a dickhead. But watching my TV with the volume down low, when I think people are asleep so that I don't subject them to my stuff isn't normal. And it's not something that other people feel the need to do, is it?
I would love to understand why my guilt button is so overinflated.
Is this a female thing? I've read articles stating that women feel the need to apologise more than men, that we're brought up to trivialise our thoughts and feelings, and instead focus on everyone else.
Is it an anxiety thing? That would make a lot of sense. A bitch of a mental illness, convincing you that your wants are an incovenience to other people and that you should just thank your lucky stars that they even want to be around you.
But even if you work out the root cause, how do you work around that? How do you unlearn that negative thought process and start living a more healthy one?
Answers on the back of a postcard, please...
How do you work out who you are, and what you want, without feeling like you need to apologise or add qualifiers or explain your thought processes so that you don't offend people?
I'm really struggling to work this out.
Example.
My family are coming up to Birmingham this weekend to celebrate my birthday with me. We're going to Cadbury World.
Do I want to go to Cadbury World? No, not really. I went a few years ago with friends from college and it was fun, but I don't think it's changed that much.
So why are we going to Cadbury World? Because when we were in Edinburgh, my cousin's girlfriend suggested it.
Well, if you didn't want to go, why did you agree?
Excellent question. The answer? Because I feel guilty about everyone travelling all the way up to Birmingham, just to see me. My dad will drive approximately 400 miles in one day, just to spend some time with me, and I figure if everyone is going to make such an effort, they should get to do something fun. Enter Cadbury World.
Of course, going to Cadbury World adds another layer of guilt. It's costing people about £17 each to go. On top of a meal out. So I feel guilty about people travelling up to see me, and agree to a fairly expensive day trip, and then feel guilty about them having to spend so much money, just to visit me.
Logically speaking, that's madness, right?
It would make so much more sense to have said no to Cadbury World, so I'd only feel guilty about them travelling up to see me.
Why do I feel guilty about them coming up to see me?
Because it's something I can't often do in return. They meet up every other month or so, for birthdays and Easter and so on, and I can't usually make it. This is for a variety of reasons:
My anxiety makes it difficult to travel.
I'm a carer at home, and don't really have a back up, so have to leave my mum on her own.
I'm not really on anyone's way to my Grandad's place in Feltham, so have to make my own way down. Train tickets cost a lot, and coach travel takes forever.
I do this a lot.
Feel guilty over things that I don't have a lot of control over, and then overcompensate by doing things I don't want to do, or going places I don't want to go to assuage my guilt. I then feel guilty for the added hassle that the thing or place causes.
How do I stop feeling guilty for everything?
That's a genuine question. This pattern of behaviour is one I replicate a lot, because feeling guilty for things, even things out of my control, is something I'm used to.
So how do I get un-used to it?
How do I figure out what I want, and not feel guilty, or like and inconvenience, or a burden?
How do I work out how to say what I want, politely but firmly, and stick to it?
Because this birthday thing? It's never going away. I have a birthday every year, and it's going to keep coming up.
Wanting to spend some time on my own at home, is something that's probably going to continue. I would have no problem with my mum or sister wanting to hang out on their own for a while, so why do I feel guilty for wanting to do the same thing?
Wanting to watch a certain TV programme shouldn't mean only watching it when everyone else is asleep or out of the room, so that I don't bother them with what I want to watch. I mean, sure, some stuff people aren't interested in, and being sensitive to that just makes me not a dickhead. But watching my TV with the volume down low, when I think people are asleep so that I don't subject them to my stuff isn't normal. And it's not something that other people feel the need to do, is it?
I would love to understand why my guilt button is so overinflated.
Is this a female thing? I've read articles stating that women feel the need to apologise more than men, that we're brought up to trivialise our thoughts and feelings, and instead focus on everyone else.
Is it an anxiety thing? That would make a lot of sense. A bitch of a mental illness, convincing you that your wants are an incovenience to other people and that you should just thank your lucky stars that they even want to be around you.
But even if you work out the root cause, how do you work around that? How do you unlearn that negative thought process and start living a more healthy one?
Answers on the back of a postcard, please...
Saturday, 13 July 2019
I'm shrinking
I'm shrinking.
I can feel myself doing it. Not on a physical level, but a mental one.
Part of it is next weekend. I'm scared, I'm anxious, I'm freaking out, but I promised to go, so I'm just bottling it up and compacting it and compartmentalising it, until it's this brick of negativity in the back of my head. I'm stuck in another country with people who care about me, but don't know me. People who miss me, and so I feel like the biggest bitch ever, because I'm dreading being trapped with them for a weekend.
What's scaring me? The plane. The travel. Being in an apartment with my dad, my sister, my cousin and his girlfriend. A day with no plans but to spend time together - God, how I hate that phrase. Then more time together. Then a meal together, where someone, usually my dad, will invariably make a comment about how much I eat. Then another day of time spent together. Then a plane home.
But I promised to go. My airfare is paid for, it's Granddad's 80th birthday, I have to go.
So I shrink. I turn it all inwards, and panic silently, so that no one sees it.
At home, I can feel myself doing it.
It's like she needs all the oxygen in the room, all the time, and so I shrink so that I take up as little as possible. I feel as though my time is not my own, because it is eaten up by appointments and meetings and everything else. Sometimes, I feel as though I am not mine.
So I shrink, to keep as much of myself mine as possible.
We have more stuff to get through this week. Parents evening, a vet appointment. I have to pack, she has to pack, we have to be ready.
I should be looking forward to next weekend, looking forward to the break. But I'm not, I'm just ... So caught up in my head that I can't think straight. I'm worrying, because me not being home means that she has to manage everything here. I know, realistically, when I can think that way, that things will likely be fine. But that quiet voice in the back of my head keeps asking, but what if it's not?
I don't want to say any of it out loud, because I don't want to project my fears, make them real. I don't want to make her worry about it more than she already is. I don't want her worrying about me more than she already it. I hate worrying people. I hate it.
They worry because I am anxious, and them worrying makes me anxious.
It's a vicious cycle.
So I try to shrink, hide it and keep it in that brick, so that no one worries.
But I worry, so I shrink, and I shrink because I worry.
I'm stuck.
I can feel myself doing it. Not on a physical level, but a mental one.
Part of it is next weekend. I'm scared, I'm anxious, I'm freaking out, but I promised to go, so I'm just bottling it up and compacting it and compartmentalising it, until it's this brick of negativity in the back of my head. I'm stuck in another country with people who care about me, but don't know me. People who miss me, and so I feel like the biggest bitch ever, because I'm dreading being trapped with them for a weekend.
What's scaring me? The plane. The travel. Being in an apartment with my dad, my sister, my cousin and his girlfriend. A day with no plans but to spend time together - God, how I hate that phrase. Then more time together. Then a meal together, where someone, usually my dad, will invariably make a comment about how much I eat. Then another day of time spent together. Then a plane home.
But I promised to go. My airfare is paid for, it's Granddad's 80th birthday, I have to go.
So I shrink. I turn it all inwards, and panic silently, so that no one sees it.
At home, I can feel myself doing it.
It's like she needs all the oxygen in the room, all the time, and so I shrink so that I take up as little as possible. I feel as though my time is not my own, because it is eaten up by appointments and meetings and everything else. Sometimes, I feel as though I am not mine.
So I shrink, to keep as much of myself mine as possible.
We have more stuff to get through this week. Parents evening, a vet appointment. I have to pack, she has to pack, we have to be ready.
I should be looking forward to next weekend, looking forward to the break. But I'm not, I'm just ... So caught up in my head that I can't think straight. I'm worrying, because me not being home means that she has to manage everything here. I know, realistically, when I can think that way, that things will likely be fine. But that quiet voice in the back of my head keeps asking, but what if it's not?
I don't want to say any of it out loud, because I don't want to project my fears, make them real. I don't want to make her worry about it more than she already is. I don't want her worrying about me more than she already it. I hate worrying people. I hate it.
They worry because I am anxious, and them worrying makes me anxious.
It's a vicious cycle.
So I try to shrink, hide it and keep it in that brick, so that no one worries.
But I worry, so I shrink, and I shrink because I worry.
I'm stuck.
Monday, 25 February 2019
This is NOT a diet blog....
....and I have no intention of it turning into one. But I don't actually do much - as you may have gathered by now - so it makes sense that I let you know what I've actually been doing since 31st December 2018.
Many, many years ago, I lost nearly 7 stone following a VLCD called the Cambridge Diet. For all sorts of reasons - including an ex who hated me losing weight because it made insecurities pop out of the woodwork - I never actually reached my goal.
Anyway, I started seriously following my version of a VLCD at the end of December. It has had to be my version because I can't afford to follow one with a Counsellor, and Lighterlife is expensive AF if you go through the programme. So I've been buying my stuff from Exante, Superdrug who do Lighterlife Fast and Slim'n'Save.
My first week I lost 35lbs. No, your eyes are not deceiving you - I lost 35lbs in the first week. Complete food replacement, three products a day. The ONLY reason I lost that much weight is that I am a complete and utter camel and hold onto water like there's a drought planned. That, and I have (had) over 250lbs to lose. So that was an incentive to keep going.
It hasn't been easy. Obviously Da Boss and Monster-teen have to eat. And there have been times when I have wanted to rip the food out of their hands and shove it down my throat so that I looked like a snake with undigested food shapes sticking out! But on the whole, I have managed to stick with it. Periodically I have needed vegetables because on a VLCD, you don't *ahem* create a lot of waste. So sometimes constipation can be a problem. Having the odd meal of meat/veg gave my body something to gather up and expel.
Then I have had some problems with the ready-to-drink shakes. I have no idea why - as far as I'm aware, I don't have any sort of dairy intolerance. But every time I had one of the ready to drink shakes, I had a MAJOR explosion in the bathroom. Like, OMG, I need a hazmat suit and a CDC team to deal with this. Fortunately, I have finished nearly all of the RTD shakes so that shouldn't happen any more.
Last week was week 8. Monster-teen went to visit her dad. And I went down with the mother of all viruses, including a hacking cough that made me think my eyeballs were going to explode out of my head, and my brain was shaking in my skull. Everything hurt like you wouldn't believe. So I ate. All week. Mostly one meal a day - pizza one day, tagliatelli another day, MacDonalds one day. I planned a couple of times to get back on track and then wanted food - it was very Arianna Grande: I see it, I like it, I want it, I get it. (Apart from the complete fail by UberEats that we won't discuss but that almost made me cry!) I haven't managed to kick this virus completely - still coughing a lot, headaches are still bad. But better than I was.
But today, my order arrived from Slim'n'Save, and I'm back on just the packs. I weighed in and have been fortunate enough to only put on 1lb which is a complete miracle if I'm gonna be honest.
My knees are bad again - I think it might be time for another steroid injection. I'm not looking forward to the actual injection but by God, I'm looking forward to the relief.
I've now lost 53lbs in 8 weeks. I'm very proud but also completely terrified. I haven't been this successful on a diet in years. Quite possibly a decade. I can't actually see much difference in myself. But yeah, it's been messing with my head just a bit.
So that's me. I'm trying to keep track of things on Instagram Chutney Spires which is a daily log of what I'm eating and how I'm doing. And I'm kinda hoping to use this place for the headstuff. But it's definitely not gonna be a diet blog.
Oh yeah. I missed my MRI because of the virus but it's been rescheduled for March so that's happening. I don't know why, but I'm scared they're going to say they can't see anything wrong. Like somehow, the MRI isn't going to see the arthritis etc and they're going to label me a fraud. Does anyone else ever have that stuff go on in their head?
Many, many years ago, I lost nearly 7 stone following a VLCD called the Cambridge Diet. For all sorts of reasons - including an ex who hated me losing weight because it made insecurities pop out of the woodwork - I never actually reached my goal.
Anyway, I started seriously following my version of a VLCD at the end of December. It has had to be my version because I can't afford to follow one with a Counsellor, and Lighterlife is expensive AF if you go through the programme. So I've been buying my stuff from Exante, Superdrug who do Lighterlife Fast and Slim'n'Save.
My first week I lost 35lbs. No, your eyes are not deceiving you - I lost 35lbs in the first week. Complete food replacement, three products a day. The ONLY reason I lost that much weight is that I am a complete and utter camel and hold onto water like there's a drought planned. That, and I have (had) over 250lbs to lose. So that was an incentive to keep going.
It hasn't been easy. Obviously Da Boss and Monster-teen have to eat. And there have been times when I have wanted to rip the food out of their hands and shove it down my throat so that I looked like a snake with undigested food shapes sticking out! But on the whole, I have managed to stick with it. Periodically I have needed vegetables because on a VLCD, you don't *ahem* create a lot of waste. So sometimes constipation can be a problem. Having the odd meal of meat/veg gave my body something to gather up and expel.
Then I have had some problems with the ready-to-drink shakes. I have no idea why - as far as I'm aware, I don't have any sort of dairy intolerance. But every time I had one of the ready to drink shakes, I had a MAJOR explosion in the bathroom. Like, OMG, I need a hazmat suit and a CDC team to deal with this. Fortunately, I have finished nearly all of the RTD shakes so that shouldn't happen any more.
Last week was week 8. Monster-teen went to visit her dad. And I went down with the mother of all viruses, including a hacking cough that made me think my eyeballs were going to explode out of my head, and my brain was shaking in my skull. Everything hurt like you wouldn't believe. So I ate. All week. Mostly one meal a day - pizza one day, tagliatelli another day, MacDonalds one day. I planned a couple of times to get back on track and then wanted food - it was very Arianna Grande: I see it, I like it, I want it, I get it. (Apart from the complete fail by UberEats that we won't discuss but that almost made me cry!) I haven't managed to kick this virus completely - still coughing a lot, headaches are still bad. But better than I was.
But today, my order arrived from Slim'n'Save, and I'm back on just the packs. I weighed in and have been fortunate enough to only put on 1lb which is a complete miracle if I'm gonna be honest.
My knees are bad again - I think it might be time for another steroid injection. I'm not looking forward to the actual injection but by God, I'm looking forward to the relief.
I've now lost 53lbs in 8 weeks. I'm very proud but also completely terrified. I haven't been this successful on a diet in years. Quite possibly a decade. I can't actually see much difference in myself. But yeah, it's been messing with my head just a bit.
So that's me. I'm trying to keep track of things on Instagram Chutney Spires which is a daily log of what I'm eating and how I'm doing. And I'm kinda hoping to use this place for the headstuff. But it's definitely not gonna be a diet blog.
Oh yeah. I missed my MRI because of the virus but it's been rescheduled for March so that's happening. I don't know why, but I'm scared they're going to say they can't see anything wrong. Like somehow, the MRI isn't going to see the arthritis etc and they're going to label me a fraud. Does anyone else ever have that stuff go on in their head?
Friday, 11 January 2019
Happy New Year!
Don't act all surprised that we're well into the second week of January before I'm writing that!
Okay, how do I catch you up? No shock to anyone, I was diagnosed with Type 2 Diabetes back in September. Just over the edge of, but enough to kick me into the next level of medical attention. That means Dietician, eye checks, foot checks, you name it, they want to suddenly check it because I've gone from level 44 to 48.
The Dietician - I am not really a violent person, despite what this blog might have you believe. But I wanted to kill her. At our Doctor's surgery, they know I use a wheelchair. So imagine our surprise when the appointment with the Dietician was upstairs. Through two heavy fire doors to get to the minuscule lift, then out of the lift we were basically re-enacting the 'Friends' "PIVOT" scene in order to get round the corner to go through two more fire doors to get into her office. Where I promptly fainted - exertion, stress, whatever.
She did everything but flap her hands and go 'oh dear, oh dear'. Then she asked us why we were there. Once we explained that we had been sent following a diabetes diagnosis, she proceeded to give us (no word of a lie) two print outs of diets you can find for yourself on the internet, which just so happen to contradict each other on the advice they give you. When it came time to weigh me, she had to go and find some scales which were dead (needed new batteries that she didn't have any spares of) and her manual scales showed me as 20kg heavier than the ones in the Dr's office had less than two months previously.
She knew nothing about VLCD diet plans - I had to find the products I've been using on her website for her to have a read - and she said she couldn't give advice on them as she didn't know about them. Obviously she can't know about every single diet out there - I wouldn't expect her to - but considering the Government are considering funding people who have Type 2 Diabetes to follow them in an official capacity, you would think she would have at least heard of the plans.She then said I needed to be booked in for bloods before we could talk any further - which seemed fair enough. I stated that any future appointments would need to be in a downstairs room to which she replied 'well she can't promise that' (like, WTAF, does she seriously expect me to go through this every time I have to see her?!) so I said well if it's not downstairs then I won't see her again. She kinda looked relieved!
Booked ourselves in for bloods. Letters received giving me dates for my Diabetes review, telling me where I can go for appropriate eye tests, etc. Need to have recent blood test results from no more than three weeks (I believe) in the past. Well that doesn't gel with the blood tests the dietician has booked us in for. Umpteen phone calls later, it turns out that no one at the surgery has any idea what tests she has booked me in for, they make no sense to the blood team, the receptionists, none of them. But they don't want to cancel them in case she has a reason for it. I swear, I thought I had boiled my brain, the sheer amount of steam coming out of my ears following these conversations.
Anyway, had my Diabetes review this week. Because of Christmas, my numbers had gone up a little BUT they are still in the green so Diabetes nurse is happy with me and wants me to keep going on the weight loss front. Giggled my way through the foot check (very nice man put up with me snorting, giggling and hiding in Stripes' teeshirt to muffle my sounds) and that was quite possibly the nicest trip to the Dr's we've had in years!
Hmmm, this is gargantuan as it is, and I haven't filled you in on LM yet. I shall write more once I've recovered! If you made it to the end, well done you!
Okay, how do I catch you up? No shock to anyone, I was diagnosed with Type 2 Diabetes back in September. Just over the edge of, but enough to kick me into the next level of medical attention. That means Dietician, eye checks, foot checks, you name it, they want to suddenly check it because I've gone from level 44 to 48.
The Dietician - I am not really a violent person, despite what this blog might have you believe. But I wanted to kill her. At our Doctor's surgery, they know I use a wheelchair. So imagine our surprise when the appointment with the Dietician was upstairs. Through two heavy fire doors to get to the minuscule lift, then out of the lift we were basically re-enacting the 'Friends' "PIVOT" scene in order to get round the corner to go through two more fire doors to get into her office. Where I promptly fainted - exertion, stress, whatever.
She did everything but flap her hands and go 'oh dear, oh dear'. Then she asked us why we were there. Once we explained that we had been sent following a diabetes diagnosis, she proceeded to give us (no word of a lie) two print outs of diets you can find for yourself on the internet, which just so happen to contradict each other on the advice they give you. When it came time to weigh me, she had to go and find some scales which were dead (needed new batteries that she didn't have any spares of) and her manual scales showed me as 20kg heavier than the ones in the Dr's office had less than two months previously.
She knew nothing about VLCD diet plans - I had to find the products I've been using on her website for her to have a read - and she said she couldn't give advice on them as she didn't know about them. Obviously she can't know about every single diet out there - I wouldn't expect her to - but considering the Government are considering funding people who have Type 2 Diabetes to follow them in an official capacity, you would think she would have at least heard of the plans.She then said I needed to be booked in for bloods before we could talk any further - which seemed fair enough. I stated that any future appointments would need to be in a downstairs room to which she replied 'well she can't promise that' (like, WTAF, does she seriously expect me to go through this every time I have to see her?!) so I said well if it's not downstairs then I won't see her again. She kinda looked relieved!
Booked ourselves in for bloods. Letters received giving me dates for my Diabetes review, telling me where I can go for appropriate eye tests, etc. Need to have recent blood test results from no more than three weeks (I believe) in the past. Well that doesn't gel with the blood tests the dietician has booked us in for. Umpteen phone calls later, it turns out that no one at the surgery has any idea what tests she has booked me in for, they make no sense to the blood team, the receptionists, none of them. But they don't want to cancel them in case she has a reason for it. I swear, I thought I had boiled my brain, the sheer amount of steam coming out of my ears following these conversations.
Anyway, had my Diabetes review this week. Because of Christmas, my numbers had gone up a little BUT they are still in the green so Diabetes nurse is happy with me and wants me to keep going on the weight loss front. Giggled my way through the foot check (very nice man put up with me snorting, giggling and hiding in Stripes' teeshirt to muffle my sounds) and that was quite possibly the nicest trip to the Dr's we've had in years!
Hmmm, this is gargantuan as it is, and I haven't filled you in on LM yet. I shall write more once I've recovered! If you made it to the end, well done you!
Tuesday, 10 July 2018
Learning to let go
This Saturday just gone, I burnt my hand.
I was in the kitchen, working with some isomalt for my Cake International competition piece. Isomalt is basically a sugar derivative. To use it, you have to melt it down to the correct working temperature, which is above one hundred and twenty degrees. In other words, it's really bloody hot.
I've been trained in working with molten sugar, and I know how to avoid incidents. But occasionally, accidents happen.
I was checking my mould and the side split slightly, spilling liquid isomalt across my left hand.
Immediately, I put my hand under the cold tap and let the water run. Lil Monster heard me cry out when it happened, and rushed to my side, where she was a major help. She got me my phone, so that I could do some research on burns, as well as getting me paracetamol. She stayed with me whilst I was on the phone with NHS 111, and helped me through the flat, so that I could ask Wheelz to take me to A&E.
Wheelz and Lil Monster were fantastic, getting me to the hospital in record time.
I have nothing but high praise for the NHS, as I was triaged and treated very quickly, as well as being given supplies to dress my wounds.
The burns aren't too bad, thank goodness. A few second degree burns, where the isomalt touched me first, and a splatter pattern across the top of my palm and the base of my fingers in first degree burns.
The problem, of course, was that I was thoroughly wrapped in bandages, rendering my left hand pretty much useless. I hadn't even realised how much I use it on a day to day basis until suddenly, I couldn't.
Having to take a step back, and let people help me, has been a real learning curve over the last few days. I struggled to carry things, couldn't feed the cats properly, preparing food was too difficult. Basically all of the things that I'm used to doing, both for myself and my family, I couldn't do. Wheelz and Lil Monster had to step in with sorting dinner, feeding the cats, arranging the washing etc.
In fact, it started even earlier than that.
Usually, when we go out, I take a bag with me. My bag usually contains (this is not a complete list):
Phone
Keys
Purse
Wheelz's phone
Wheelz's keys
Wheelz's purse
Water bottle
Cereal bars
Boiled sweets (in case Wheelz faints)
Lip balm
Tissues
Pens
Paper/Notebook
etc.
Lil Monster had to pack a bag instead. I walked her through the basics of what I usually tow around with me, and she packed it into her hastily emptied PE bag.
The journey to the hospital was quick, and easy.
The next obstacle was parking. Usually, when there's a pay and display, I'll go over and sort it. If I don't have change, I'll find a nearby shop or food stall and make a small purchase in order to make change.
Lil Monster never usually has to think about this, as it's always handled. Thank goodness the pay and display was broken and we were allowed to park for free, because her distressed toing and froing was quite stressful to behold.
Next came the wheelchair. It seems so easy when you think of what needs doing. Remove from car, push into seating position, remove brakes.
But I couldn't do any of it. I just stood there like a lemon, unable to help with it at all, because it takes two hands. It hadn't ever occurred to me that Lil Monster didn't know to grab the seat cushion. That she didn't realise that Wheelz needs the brakes off if she's walking with the chair, and on if she's going to sit in it. Push down on the seat bars to put the seat in place, but make sure it's not too close to the car, so it doesn't hit it.
I felt micromanaging, because I felt as though I had to walk her through each step of what I do as a matter of course. It was a weird feeling, and one that I wasn't at all keen on.
For the most part, things at home have been OK. From Saturday afternoon, when we got home from the hospital, until last night, I was given 'invalid' status. So saying, I was off duty for my usual have to's, and would need helping out instead.
I'm not a very good patient. I have developed a fierce independent streak over the years, and having this stripped away has been a real learning curve. I've had no choice but to sit back and let other people help me out. I've had no choice but to let go.
And it's been hard. I suppose, because of the things I'm used to handling, I've developed my own way of managing things, and it's been difficult to let other people take charge. I've had to bite my tongue a few times, when things weren't being done in their usual way. Because not-my-way doesn't mean wrong (with the exception of weighing out cat food. Lil Monster has been overfeeding them, hence the four piles of cat sick Wheelz and I had to clean up last night).
I've been off duty for two and a half days, and nothing has fallen apart. We're all still standing.
Lil Monster really stepped up for me, and it was heartening to see.
So maybe me being forced to let go hasn't necessarily been a bad thing?
Having said that, my invalid status expired at midnight, so it's business as usual from here on out.
I was in the kitchen, working with some isomalt for my Cake International competition piece. Isomalt is basically a sugar derivative. To use it, you have to melt it down to the correct working temperature, which is above one hundred and twenty degrees. In other words, it's really bloody hot.
I've been trained in working with molten sugar, and I know how to avoid incidents. But occasionally, accidents happen.
I was checking my mould and the side split slightly, spilling liquid isomalt across my left hand.
Immediately, I put my hand under the cold tap and let the water run. Lil Monster heard me cry out when it happened, and rushed to my side, where she was a major help. She got me my phone, so that I could do some research on burns, as well as getting me paracetamol. She stayed with me whilst I was on the phone with NHS 111, and helped me through the flat, so that I could ask Wheelz to take me to A&E.
Wheelz and Lil Monster were fantastic, getting me to the hospital in record time.
I have nothing but high praise for the NHS, as I was triaged and treated very quickly, as well as being given supplies to dress my wounds.
The burns aren't too bad, thank goodness. A few second degree burns, where the isomalt touched me first, and a splatter pattern across the top of my palm and the base of my fingers in first degree burns.
The problem, of course, was that I was thoroughly wrapped in bandages, rendering my left hand pretty much useless. I hadn't even realised how much I use it on a day to day basis until suddenly, I couldn't.
Having to take a step back, and let people help me, has been a real learning curve over the last few days. I struggled to carry things, couldn't feed the cats properly, preparing food was too difficult. Basically all of the things that I'm used to doing, both for myself and my family, I couldn't do. Wheelz and Lil Monster had to step in with sorting dinner, feeding the cats, arranging the washing etc.
In fact, it started even earlier than that.
Usually, when we go out, I take a bag with me. My bag usually contains (this is not a complete list):
Phone
Keys
Purse
Wheelz's phone
Wheelz's keys
Wheelz's purse
Water bottle
Cereal bars
Boiled sweets (in case Wheelz faints)
Lip balm
Tissues
Pens
Paper/Notebook
etc.
Lil Monster had to pack a bag instead. I walked her through the basics of what I usually tow around with me, and she packed it into her hastily emptied PE bag.
The journey to the hospital was quick, and easy.
The next obstacle was parking. Usually, when there's a pay and display, I'll go over and sort it. If I don't have change, I'll find a nearby shop or food stall and make a small purchase in order to make change.
Lil Monster never usually has to think about this, as it's always handled. Thank goodness the pay and display was broken and we were allowed to park for free, because her distressed toing and froing was quite stressful to behold.
Next came the wheelchair. It seems so easy when you think of what needs doing. Remove from car, push into seating position, remove brakes.
But I couldn't do any of it. I just stood there like a lemon, unable to help with it at all, because it takes two hands. It hadn't ever occurred to me that Lil Monster didn't know to grab the seat cushion. That she didn't realise that Wheelz needs the brakes off if she's walking with the chair, and on if she's going to sit in it. Push down on the seat bars to put the seat in place, but make sure it's not too close to the car, so it doesn't hit it.
I felt micromanaging, because I felt as though I had to walk her through each step of what I do as a matter of course. It was a weird feeling, and one that I wasn't at all keen on.
For the most part, things at home have been OK. From Saturday afternoon, when we got home from the hospital, until last night, I was given 'invalid' status. So saying, I was off duty for my usual have to's, and would need helping out instead.
I'm not a very good patient. I have developed a fierce independent streak over the years, and having this stripped away has been a real learning curve. I've had no choice but to sit back and let other people help me out. I've had no choice but to let go.
And it's been hard. I suppose, because of the things I'm used to handling, I've developed my own way of managing things, and it's been difficult to let other people take charge. I've had to bite my tongue a few times, when things weren't being done in their usual way. Because not-my-way doesn't mean wrong (with the exception of weighing out cat food. Lil Monster has been overfeeding them, hence the four piles of cat sick Wheelz and I had to clean up last night).
I've been off duty for two and a half days, and nothing has fallen apart. We're all still standing.
Lil Monster really stepped up for me, and it was heartening to see.
So maybe me being forced to let go hasn't necessarily been a bad thing?
Having said that, my invalid status expired at midnight, so it's business as usual from here on out.
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