tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59354234359097050832024-02-20T18:45:23.972-08:00Life by InkEvery-day tales in the life of a girl finding her feet in this crazy & beautiful world...Ak2190http://www.blogger.com/profile/18401622704990621411noreply@blogger.comBlogger24125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5935423435909705083.post-88529051040238921522023-02-22T20:03:00.000-08:002023-02-22T20:03:18.110-08:00My Cousin, the Gentle Giant<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigrjt7wFgvC5opwmcpn_FJOCDcu7XxOtHWKJTNjUT_CMTjS3ic4XJVDrhndhiGOwIWQkQoPCLp8JmyClrDgNOSwNUjVhsp5DQDSz5dxDOjFulYd7N95zjguTrtLyAunJUM5rGjclE9fzup4KVXZB6q1k5a6DnGAiq6sRCbKB5zkuWZfTW6q0V9h2KW/s1169/B6AE5567-6427-4DD6-8305-13C32139ACB7.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="825" data-original-width="1169" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigrjt7wFgvC5opwmcpn_FJOCDcu7XxOtHWKJTNjUT_CMTjS3ic4XJVDrhndhiGOwIWQkQoPCLp8JmyClrDgNOSwNUjVhsp5DQDSz5dxDOjFulYd7N95zjguTrtLyAunJUM5rGjclE9fzup4KVXZB6q1k5a6DnGAiq6sRCbKB5zkuWZfTW6q0V9h2KW/s320/B6AE5567-6427-4DD6-8305-13C32139ACB7.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">Sunday evening I received news that my cousin, Corey had passed away.</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;"> </span><p></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">After a long battle with cancer he had let us know he was in palliative care only 10 days before he was gone. Although logically I knew that meant there wasn’t a lot of time left, the finality hit hard.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">We weren’t overly close. We sent each other messages on social media every now and again, about books, nerdy things & my favourite was always the Happy Birthday messages that took place one day after the other. He’d message me on the 21st & I’d reply that I’d chat to him tomorrow & I would, on the 22nd when I wished him his own Happy Birthday.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">After finding out Corey was in palliative care I reached out & we had a short chat & I’m so, so glad we did. Despite the distance there was always adoration & love.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">What I found was the series of feelings and thoughts following the news of Corey’s passing were so much more confusing than I had anticipated. Sadness is obvious but guilt & anger were right up there. I was actually unsure any of the feelings were valid considering the lack of contact. As I worked through these things over the next few days I also read post after post & comment after comment from all of the people in Corey’s life. From old high school friends & current colleagues, to a beautiful daughter-in-law & the love of his life.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">While the sadness persists, the guilt & anger have disappeared, leaving joy and most of all pride. To see so many people honour and love this mountain of a man who was so, so gentle. There have been many joyous anecdotes, loving memories & just a genuine outpouring of love that can only come from being a beautiful human, which Corey was. And I could not be more proud of my big cousin & happy that his strength, positivity, generosity & kindness is still being shared amongst all of us that are still earth side.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">I hope, my cousin, that you are with your Dad, that there are heavenly MMA matches & plenty or nerdiness for you to enjoy while you watch over you beautiful family until you’re all together again.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Love & adoration for you always, your littlest cousin x</span></p>Ak2190http://www.blogger.com/profile/18401622704990621411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5935423435909705083.post-86196398940079832782022-07-14T06:12:00.004-07:002022-07-14T06:38:57.259-07:00A Short Season of Grief<div style="text-align: left;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk0KsDdETyC-xdOSGjCL5ujcw5ScPNCso8grrNCDmPq8iITd4dZG52eZbK2aNh10dOaWUmMpdi5MfA6aPV_wOJqWLIPxtfz9qDydMXpjoJG2jLal7_7RhEF6vYkuIFJZS72L3HsmVnpr9F8UJE-BT0gSC6rGWDGJz72Ivbxsf5QuXsMvpBwoXxXnx-/s309/286889486_1400612547110153_1630427724074505678_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="206" data-original-width="309" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk0KsDdETyC-xdOSGjCL5ujcw5ScPNCso8grrNCDmPq8iITd4dZG52eZbK2aNh10dOaWUmMpdi5MfA6aPV_wOJqWLIPxtfz9qDydMXpjoJG2jLal7_7RhEF6vYkuIFJZS72L3HsmVnpr9F8UJE-BT0gSC6rGWDGJz72Ivbxsf5QuXsMvpBwoXxXnx-/w400-h266/286889486_1400612547110153_1630427724074505678_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-AU;">It's the loneliest feeling in the world to have a severe anxiety episode
when surrounded by others. It is worse still when that feeling becomes
completely overwhelming, when all of the public anxiety recovery tactics, that
have worked for years, go down the toilet. That anxiety then breeds. Becomes
uncontrollable. If I can't stop it, how do I leave the house? So I don't. I
feel trapped. This makes me sad. I get blue and that feeling grows. I never
want to do anything anymore. I feel worthless. I feel incapable. The fear of
anxiety becomes an anxiety of its own. The sadness surrounding that anxiety
quickly turns into depression.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-AU;">This was where I ended up in April. My rescue remedy spray was a joke.
My anxiety blanket, that had been helping most of the time, was only slightly
taking the edge off. I wanted to sleep a lot, wanted to eat constantly. I was
defeated. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-AU;">I've had this condition all of my adult life. My mental and emotional
health has been through so may different seasons. It's been a rollercoaster of
epic proportions. There were so many valleys and peaks, so many wins and
losses. Some seasons were triggered by life events, some were, as my
psychologist tells me, because that's just how I'm wired. Mostly, I've learnt
to live with it. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-AU;">I share my story whenever I feel I can - if you've read any of my
previous blogs, you'll know that. I share for myself. To let it go. But also
for the messages I receive. The ones that say, "Thank you, I thought I was
alone", "Thank you for putting into words how this feels".</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-AU;">Today I share from a place of extraordinary recovery. A place I don't
fully trust. But a place that exists for me and is too hopeful, too important to keep to myself. I'm sharing my very short season of grief, about 5 weeks. A grief that has now dissipated.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-AU;">This part of my story starts on Easter Sunday 2022. My family had
gathered at my brothers house. We all pitched in helping to landscape the front
yard. We watched on TV as my nephew swam his heart out at nationals, smashed
his PB and earned an incredible national rank for his age group race. It was a
fucking good day. After showers, we had nibblies and sat around together. As
usual, my anxiety had hovered in the background throughout the day, but it the
late afternoon, I felt my chest starting to tighten, felt my legs start to
ache. My breathing started to come up short and I couldn't think. I escaped to
the bathroom, as I have done countless times before. I went through my
breathing exercises, I splashed water on my face. Jake had noticed. Of course
he had. He brought me my rescue remedy & I all but swigged directly from the
bottle. I breathed, I splashed my face, I took more remedy. It wouldn't let up.
I started to shake, started to cry. Why wouldn't it just stop. Why couldn't I
breathe. I needed to leave the bathroom, the house was full, someone would
eventually come knocking.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-AU;">I escaped the bathroom to find that almost everyone had gone down the
back yard. Thank Christ. Charli was watching a movie on TV & I clung to
that shit like a fucking life raft. Jake wanted to stay with me but I told him
to piss off down the back, don't make it obvious something is wrong. Anyone who
came in asked if I was heading down, to which I made the very poor excuse
of staying upstairs with Char - my kid, who relishes family gatherings at her
Uncle Lenny's and had already asked multiple times to go down the back. I told her to just
watch a little more of her movie while I tried to get my shit together. My
brother came in, made small talk about the movie that was on. I tried to chat.
I could barely string a few words together. My whole concentration given to
keeping my breathing even, and for heavens sake do not cry. Do not unravel. My
emotions felt like they were being kept at bay by the most brittle of dams. One
crack and it would just rush out with no hope of being able to staunch the flow. I'm not really sure
whether my brother knew how not okay I was, or whether he just thought I was
being a rude bitch. I did send him a message apologising for having such a bad
day at his house, I hope he understood.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-AU;">It was Charli, the delightful little beast, who fully gave me
away. <i>Begging </i>to join the fun downstairs, I finally said
okay. I gave her my phone - take some photos, be careful down the stairs and
Mummy will be down in a few minutes. Little did I know the tiny rat went down
and announced to everyone that I was crying, sad but I wouldn't tell her why.
Fucking kids.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-AU;">Upstairs, I am trying desperately to pull myself together. I was making small but
steady headway. Breathe, rescue remedy, breathe, pick a muscle - relax it.
Repeat. I was doing okay, still a bit shaky, but not yet calm enough to fit my usual mask, when my
Step Dad from years gone by came up to help. After a battle of his own over the
past 18 months, he was well in tune with my anxiety, that indescribable
feeling, unless you know it. "Ashleigh Kate, what is it, hey?" He
bundled me up in his arms and hugged me while the dam shattered, while I cried. He
cried with me. Letting it out felt so much better. That wall, built to put a hold on my own anxiety,
trapped me inside as well. The dam needed to break. It's just that usually, I can
wait until I'm home. We chatted, I felt more human. And also so exhausted. An hour -
maybe less? And I felt like I had run a marathon.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-AU;">I went downstairs, played it as cool as I could now knowing my shithead
kid had ratted me out. We had dinner, we played board games. It was lovely. It was then that another family member pulled me aside, told me they were going to buy
me something from Amazon, get it shipped to my home. A something that would help
me feel better. Give it a week, they said. I thanked them. I appreciated it.
But I also internally scoffed. Years. Years of medications, hormones, blankets,
remedies, psychologists, a psychiatrist that shouldn't be practicing, grounding
exercises, breathing exercises, journaling, action lists. All of them worth their
weight in gold (apart from that psychiatrist prick). All of them at one time
another, worked. And all of them at one time or another, didn't.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-AU;">The supplement that I was ordered arrived 2 weeks later. 200mg capsules
of L-Theanine. I started taking 2 every night before bed. A week went by.
Nothing had changed. 2 weeks, still nothing of note. I kept taking them, they
had been bought for me, after all. I would see the bottle out. I would say
thanks, I tried it but it just didn't work. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 13.5pt;">Week 3, Jake noticed I wasn't asking for my anxiety blanket as much. I started sleeping properly at night. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-AU;">Week 4 - I am doing things for myself. Things that for the longest time
I have relied on Jake to do or to support me while I do. The simplest things.
Day-to-day things. Showering. Taking out the bins. Feeding the dogs. Cooking a
meal. Running out for a couple of extra groceries. I start to worry - I feel good... too good. It never lasts very long. I wait for the stumble, the inevitable fall.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-AU;">Week 5. I'm well-slept, calm. I notice I'm not crying so much. I'm
having a bath for the bubbles, for the joy - not to ground myself in scaldingly
hot water. Music re-enters my life regularly. I'm not overwhelmed by each small
thing in my day. I want to go out. I want to do so many things. I contact that
family member and thank them from the bottom of my heart for saving my from the
absolute void I had come to live in. To accept.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-AU;">Week 6. It hits. The grief. The realisation that I have spent so, so much
of my adult life restricted, anxious, depressed, struggling. A version of happy
that was enough for then, but it was nothing. Nothing compared to this.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-AU;">Weeks 7-10 are spent rejoicing. Enjoying the freedom. Enjoying a
re-found capability to live my life fully. Don't get me wrong - I've been anxious. I've been
sad. I've been hella stressed. But it's been a PART of my day, not something
consuming my day. I've had a handful of bad days in a sea of happiness, of rightness. A contrast to the handful of good days in a sea of struggle. And
that joy perpetuates the grief. My god, I have missed out on so much. I have
avoided joy out of fear. I have walled myself off from people and experiences
because of worry I might be anxious. I have <i>struggled</i> through
these years more than I ever knew and the realisation of that loss was acute.
It hurt. It felt wasted.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-AU;">I'm in week 11. Jake notice I have lost
weight, something I have not been able to shift for years. I called bullshit.
Until I noticed he was right. I wondered out loud how, I haven't done anything
different. Then he tells me: I haven't been eating myself into oblivion every
night. I have not been emotionally eating for weeks. I tell a lie - I
emotionally ate after some work stress this week. But I stressed, talked, ate a
fucking pie & let it go. Jake tells me that's how people usually deal with
stuff, and welcomed me to a little normalcy. I'm here for it.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 18px;">The fall has not come. The grief has given way to gratefulness. To </span><i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 18px;">living</i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 18px;">. It's made me appreciate what I now have and I will not waste a second of it. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 13.5pt;">I'm very aware that my seasons can always change again, and that
although I am feeling the best I have felt in more than a decade, things
happen. There may be slips and tumbles. But I am confident there won't be a
fall. I don't think I will be brought to my knees by an anxiety attack in the
middle of a family gathering again & that is so powerful, it fills me with so much hope, something I can hardly remember daring to have. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 13.5pt;">But the most beautiful part of this past almost 3 months is the realisation that my Husband, who has been with me through most of this, has never begrudged me my mental health. Has always supported me by being there, by taking the load where I could not. He has never once asked me to do better than I was, he always knew I was trying. Even when that trying looked like sobbing on the couch into a bowl of ice-cream. I am overwhelmed by his love, that it has been unwavering. He let this half-life be his, too. And I am so incredibly happy that I can bring more joy to our home, to him. That when, instead of wanting to stay home, stay safe, I want to find new adventures. I can see the excitement in his face.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 13.5pt;">I implore anyone, on whatever journey yours might be, don't ever give up - take the offered hand of those around you. It is so worth trying.</span></p></div>Ak2190http://www.blogger.com/profile/18401622704990621411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5935423435909705083.post-20015222098789036232021-07-11T08:00:00.001-07:002021-07-11T15:15:17.485-07:00Turning 33 with a Wife like Me...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZaZrRbwJjYsr_rKvaEvabxWiJP2Sw1L5Qiw_4Cnm9ku0Fnw6vr9xNWSu-Rw2pnGhLkoc_3Blb64_LWipWLTMllGHL6zhnX0pGvt3S8p-cJWT1HAl3ZN7xe4sPNUSrYjx3ykobWn0hyphenhyphenKM/s2048/214867168_3094812927417620_4537878103364135257_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1038" data-original-width="2048" height="325" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZaZrRbwJjYsr_rKvaEvabxWiJP2Sw1L5Qiw_4Cnm9ku0Fnw6vr9xNWSu-Rw2pnGhLkoc_3Blb64_LWipWLTMllGHL6zhnX0pGvt3S8p-cJWT1HAl3ZN7xe4sPNUSrYjx3ykobWn0hyphenhyphenKM/w640-h325/214867168_3094812927417620_4537878103364135257_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>I have always tried very hard to organise fun activities for Jake - be it on his birthday or otherwise. Since our interests are a little different sometimes, I have also tried my hardest not to avoid things I don't like. My main hold up, as anyone who knows me, knows - is heights. But, I made sure to take Jake to Dreamworld on his first trip up to Queensland. I booked a Q1 climb for him and shook in my boots the entire time. </p><p>Despite my best efforts, my anxiety and fear has always cropped up along the way - hotel stays that were a few floors too high, an Eye of Brisbane experience that went downhill very fast, a couple of drives that were insanely steep. The wedding gift we received for the Sydney Sky Tower I had to skip because between the revolving and the height, I was not in a good place. Jake stayed and very happily ate both meals and desserts himself while I found a place to eat closer to the ground.</p><p>The level of fear I have about this is illogical. I <i>get</i> that. But I have also never felt so physically & mentally debilitated by anything else like that in my life. I might get a bit of anxiety or get upset here or there about this or that. But heights seem to create a whole body shut down. Aaaannnd, it seems to be getting worse the older I get.</p><p>Today is Jake's 33rd Birthday and I decided that since he'd never been to O'Reilly's, he definitely needed to go. He would <i>love</i> the treetop walk, the flying fox, seeing the stunning views and animals. Charli would be just as stoked, I couldn't wait for her to experience the bird feeding.</p><p>We hit the road at 8am, the day was absolutely <i>perfect.</i> Not a single cloud in the sky, no wind, delightful temperature in the sun. The drive out was stunning, Charli chatted about going to the "bird island", Jake and I fantasised about having enough money to buy ANY of the gorgeous properties along the way. I had mentioned to Jake that if we got up there and the treetop walk was too high, I'd just chill on the ground while he and Charli went up. I'd been up there before twice. As a kid, which I could barely remember and once about 13 years ago with my boyfriend at the time. I remembered hating the drive, especially the drive back down but I also remember being in a pretty consuming amount of pain on that return drive and also that my boyfriend wasn't exactly the best driver.</p><p>So I had no fear, no anxiety about our trip. I was aware that I would probably have <i>moments</i> where I was uncomfortable and anxious but that happens driving to Tamborine Mountain, it happens on the 4th floor of our favourite Sunshine Coast resort.</p><p>I was not prepared in any way for the shitshow that was about to unfold. </p><p>Once we hit the Vineyards at the base of the mountain, I knew the climb wasn't far. It was beautiful from the start, the initial incline had us looking over immaculate properties - the greenery was stunning - winter rain has been very kind to our often dry and brown countryside. We were about 4 switch-backs up when I felt the first trickle of unease. I shook it off, kept driving, holding my breath when a few cars driven by either very seasoned mountain drivers or bloody morons, forced us toward the edge or to hug the wall. As we got higher the switchbacks got tighter and steeper - the road had more narrow as shit one-way lengths and every time I caught a glimpse of our new elevation I became more and more distressed. At first it was quiet, I'd check with Jake how far we had left to travel & mention my discomfort. I remember trying to laugh it off, saying I might have made an error in choice of activity. After constant narrow, winding roads with sheer drop offs on one side and a wall of rock and earth on the other, I had the thought that sent everything spiralling. My thoughts had been so concentrated on telling myself to: 'just keep driving, take it easy, it didn't matter how fast or slow we went, we would get there eventually and it would be amazing, we would just bask & enjoy, I would get such gorgeous photos up there and it was only just past 9am, we had hours before we had to be at Jaspa's birthday party, we'd come back down around...' and there it was. I could barely feel my body, barely catch my breath driving UP this beast of a mountain. How in the holy hell was I going to drive <i>down</i>, <b>into</b> the sheer drop offs not beside or away from them. In mere seconds, I was in a full-blown panic attack. Sobbing, shaking, heaving, not at all in control of my breathing we continued to inch our way up that mountain at about a rate of about 10 kilometres an hour. Jake, as ever, was patient, reassuring & of course offered to drive either the rest of the way or back down. Whatever I needed. I needed off that mountain. My thoughts began to spiral very quickly: 'What a stupid idea. I didn't think it would be this bad. I brought Charli up here, she's not safe.' I kept repeating these things to Jake between tears, hitched breaths and mini mouth vomits. I manged to gasp out a request for how long we had left to go. 11 kilometers. That was the last straw. We weren't even half way up from the base of the mountain. </p><p>Suddenly there was a small plateau where I could pull off. I stumbled out of the car and heaved up the contents of my stomach. Shaking like a leaf with not an iota of logic to spare, I turned to Jake, who had been rubbing my back and told him that I was sorry but I could not go on. I could not drive what I had already driven again at this height and higher. Jake offered to drive again. I love Jake with all my heart and trust him completely. He is also very confident and I knew I would be mortified at the speed in which he would drive either way on this road. I refused and told him the only way I would be getting off this mountain was by walking. He refused and told me that was too dangerous, he wouldn't let me do that - the road was so narrow, I'd be hit by a car. I started to feel not only overcome with fear and anxiety but also trapped and unheard. With that, a screaming match ensued. In that serene little spot Jake and my shouts echoed out as we faced off over a pile of fresh vomit. Finally, angry and frustrated, Jake gave in. He turned the car around and drove back down while I started walking. I was a good kilometer in when I started to calm down. I realised I had to pee pretty bad and remembered there was a nursery on one of the turns, I'd stop there. I rang my Mum - I just wanted to talk while I walked, I cried as I told her what had happened - that I was fine but I wasn't able to get back in the car. That I was upset I'd ruined Jake's birthday trip. Logic slowly returned as I walked. I thanked goodness it wasn't summer as I stepped through shin-high grasses that could have easily been a snake pit. I listened for cars, jogged around blind corners and down narrow strips to stay out of the way of the cars coming up and down. 3 lovely people stopped and checked to see if I was okay. I smiled, thanked them and said I was fine with puffy eyes that I'm sure gave me away. The need to pee became more urgent, the nursery was a hell of a lot further away than I'd thought. Mum convinced me on one of our many calls to get Jake turn back and pick me up. I reminded her that there was not a lot of places to turn around and although I wished I had just got in the car and gotten out of there so we could have continued our day elsewhere, I wasn't sure I could convince myself to get past my mental and physical reaction to the situation. Eventually I was starting to become level with the mountains around the one I was on. I jogged here, thanked a concerned passer by there, talked to Mum some more and suddenly I was well below the height of the surrounding mountains and thought I could probably do the car the rest of the way. Jake, who had been fretting at the bottom of the mountain, all anger gone and nothing but concern for my safety in mind, came straight away. We managed to meet on a hairpin with a space for Jake to turn around. I was thankful but just as terrified as I'd expected to be and Jake was just as chill and confident as I'd imagined going down that road. I had to tell him to slow down many times as I clutched my seat and door handle, my heart in my throat. We passed the nursery as we went down.</p><p>Clear of the mountain. Jake was completely unfazed by the events, only thanking me for the entertainment. I was still mortified - by the experience and the way I felt but also be cause it felt like I'd ruined and wasted not only a day out together, but Jake's birthday. Charli was upset that I'd been upset and considering that by this point she'd been in the car over 3 hours, she was otherwise very chill and well behaved. We tried to find another venue for our day out - it's the last day of school holidays and every man, woman, feral child and their dog were apparently spending the day out in the Gold Coast Hinterland. Alpaca Farm, couldn't get a park. Canungra, couldn't find the markets. The Outpost Cafe, teeming with people. Rivermill Cafe, also teeming but at this point the toilet issue needed to be addressed. The menu there left a lot to be desired, the pony rides were just finishing up, there was no access the deer enclosure because it was a mud pit from all the rain. Even the turtles in the river were hiding. We assumed Tamborine would be just as busy so we opted to just head home - back to somewhere not so fancy but reliable with good food.</p><p>If you've ever had a panic attack you'll know that it can take a long time to come completely right. So this entire time I am still sporadically crying, shaking & having to calm myself with deep breathing. The anger hit as we got on the highway. I was furious with myself that I hadn't just kept going. That not only did Jake and Charli miss out on an awesome experience, so did I. That Jake's birthday had become nothing but a long arse drive. I was angry that I'd let my anxiety get the better of me & hadn't been able to calm myself down. At the same time I knew there wasn't a force on earth that could have gotten me back into that car on that plateau. I was still pissed.</p><p>Once we finally sat down to eat, we talked about what had happend. Jake commented that I'd actually made it pretty damn far back down on foot. My maps app had kept the location of where the car had stopped and from there we were able to pinpoint where Jake picked me up - I had made it 6 out of 9 kilometers back down. Looking at the map prompted me to see what would have been ahead had we just continued on, which brought me very quickly to the funny side of the situation.... But for one more turn, the rest of the drive was pretty well as straight shot through. I actually could not stop laughing at the ridiculousness of that. </p><p>As always, Charli's questions come after she has processed for a few hours and they came through thick and fast. Why had I been so upset? Why was I so scared? Wasn't there a way to make the mountain come down or maybe if I wore high heels and was taller, I wouldn't be so scared of heights? Then she started with - "It was scary driving up there" to which I replied: "It was a little bit scary but Mummy needed to be a little more brave." And so, because my 4 year old is watching me deal with fear, I will be again driving up that mountain in the not too distant future. Whether I be the driver myself or blindfolded, drugged, laying down in the back seat or if I can somehow convince my very busy brother to come along and drive; I am getting to the top of that fucking mountain.</p><p>Thanks to my Mum for taking my call and calling back as I stubbornly trudged my arse down that mountain.</p><p>Thanks to my bestie for genuinely laughing instead of judging when I told her what had happened, who told me we'd find a way to get me up there and shared that she also had fears that she sometimes found hard to manage.</p><p>But mostly thanks to my amazing Husband who was patient, thoughtful and still super happy with his shitstorm of a birthday.</p>Ak2190http://www.blogger.com/profile/18401622704990621411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5935423435909705083.post-17391429786423302822021-04-17T22:39:00.000-07:002021-04-17T22:39:13.423-07:00The Raw Parts<p>I’ve written a lot about my mental health struggles. The response has ranged from thank yous from people who are dealing with their own struggles and feel less alone. The “power to you” messages from those who support me. The “you over share, some things aren't meant for public knowledge” from people who seem to think there aren’t dark unbearable things in me I have only shared sparingly with only my closest people. And the flat out “don’t want to hear it” responses. To which I wave goodbye. But through it all I don’t feel I’ve even ever shared the truly raw parts of Mental Health struggles. I have run out of breath sharing some of the hardest times I’ve been though, but only after it’s overcome.</p><p>Today I share in the middle of the bad, from my couch, where my face is numb, my chest is heavy and empty all at once and I see no point in participating in life, which only feels like an endless shuffle through molasses. I am in sensory overload. I cannot stand most sounds or touches. I am in pieces.</p><p>After a good 4 months of not feeling so great mentally and going about all of my normal coping mechanisms to no avail, about 3 weeks ago I experienced a pretty severe depressive episode that required my husband to stay home with me. I got through it and have been wading on ever since, mask on. A new doctor gave me a good overview of why I have been feeling this way & I felt much better knowing why my psychologist, grounding baths, emotional eating habits had all done absolutely nothing for me. A few vitamin deficiencies & a lot of hormonal unrest seems to be the main culprits of my body & minds betrayal. </p><p>But, none of that stops the waves. None of that stopped me getting home last night from my brothers house, tired but fine, happy to be home to rest, in bed & intent on sleep when another episode came from nowhere. It’s the emptiness that I can’t stand, the nothingness, the not wanting to do or see or feel or taste anything. The thought of doing things that normally bring joy & comfort comes with a weight, a “why bother”. </p><p>My legs ache. Every episode I’ve had with my mental health, be it depressive or an anxiety attack, my legs ache beyond belief. I usually need multiple heat packs on them to make it stop. Last night my legs were pounding and my chest felt like a black pit. My husband came into the room & knew instantly. “You’re not feeling okay, are you?” And this is the part I hate the most. I cease to be able to communicate. I cannot find the words to express how I feel. I am suddenly reduced to gestures & single words.</p><p>I managed to ask if he would sit in the bathroom with me. A bath is another grounding thing for me. I have the water hot enough to make my skin red, it helps immeasurably. But it wasn’t enough. It was a battle between me trying to bring myself out of this void and my body doing the thing it naturally does, making the void wider, deeper and harder to climb out of. The panic comes with it then. Anxiety is something I live with daily. It’s a part of me that is almost a friend. A part of me that I knows I deeply, that I work with to get through life.But this is different. It’s panic associated with depression; a deep fear that the depression won’t pass. That I’ll be stuck this way, unable to function.</p><p>I couldn’t climb out. It took a relaxant that induced sleep for that feeling to abate. I had to ride out the feelings until the pill took hold and I couldn’t keep my eyes properly open and Jake had to help me out of the bath, get me dry & clothed. He had put on Gilmore Girls, heated heat packs for my legs and stroked my hair as I lay on the lounge. It took no time then for the drugs to take me off to sleep.</p><p>Today the abyss is still wide, still bottomless but I’m on a ledge. Close to the top but not quite high enough to get out. I’ve tried reading, another bath, food I usually love, & now a TV show. The heat packs are still on my legs, I have nothing to give to myself let alone anyone else. </p><p>Through it all Charli is ever watchful. Jake amuses her away from me on days like this but she can see it. I used to be so worried about her seeing me this way. Used to worry about being a terrible parent. After I finally made my way to the lounge this afternoon she took my face in her hands, “Mum why are you crying?” I shrugged. “You just feel sad?” I nodded. “Okay, breath with me, ready? In. And out. In. And out.” She done that for about a minute until “That’s, better, huh?”</p><p>It’s now 3:30pm. My Sunday is not what I hoped it would be and tomorrow morning I have to wake up and make life keep happening. I’m scared of the struggle ahead because I’ve been here before and the hopelessness feels insurmountable. My masks are handy for those days.</p><p>Just be mindful of this. This reality that it not only mine but Jake’s. That is terrifying and hard. Peoples hard days are no joke and it’s not their choice or their fault. And kudos to me. Because be it tomorrow or next week I’ll be okay again at some point and it will have been nothing but sheer will to push through the bad days.</p><p>Please be kind.</p>Ak2190http://www.blogger.com/profile/18401622704990621411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5935423435909705083.post-34040511537219568832020-12-31T02:40:00.001-08:002021-02-22T16:06:48.715-08:00Ahhh, New Years...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-ZLsMXriAg9M-DK8psTEcIYXGYm9hCV7pOUeaMUaNx-7LO1fzf5rZuBmOU6I_qzPQC1lGsZCH9vxjact_dby2ZYKLB2KBv1BcBaksl-pWcGVV88GEYIqDZHaF4tEqScysIxzLElvSmk0/s1929/134080277_1318242718568266_3219600984170800208_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1269" data-original-width="1929" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-ZLsMXriAg9M-DK8psTEcIYXGYm9hCV7pOUeaMUaNx-7LO1fzf5rZuBmOU6I_qzPQC1lGsZCH9vxjact_dby2ZYKLB2KBv1BcBaksl-pWcGVV88GEYIqDZHaF4tEqScysIxzLElvSmk0/w400-h264/134080277_1318242718568266_3219600984170800208_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p> Another New Year approaches. Mostly I've seen "Woohoo, 2021! Seeya later 2020" but I've also seen "No one should get their hopes up, 2021 is just going to be 2020's sequel."</p><p>Honestly, after a year that was dominated by a global pandemic, Trump running the most powerful country in the world, and the train-wreck that was Tiger King - I'm inclined to agree with both. Thank fuck that's over, but also - where <i>are</i> we headed?</p><p>Short answer is - we control that.</p><p>I don't think I realised what an insane year our little trio has had until today. I wanted to make a little "2020" photo album for Facebook, and going through the photos was mind-blowing. "That was <i>this</i> year!?"</p><p>For us, 2020 started with some shattered relationships that were barely holding form.</p><p>We booked our first overseas trip as a family - to New Zealand in August.</p><p>Charli began swimming and dancing lessons, an exciting prospect for both her and us as parents, watching her grow and enjoy.</p><p>Half of Australia was on fire and our for-shit Prime Minister needed a good clip around the ear.</p><p>We spent most of our weekends helping my brother renovate his new house. </p><p>By February Covid was hitting the news and we were wary. </p><p>Family members left for New Zealand and America. </p><p>Shit hit the fan in March, starting with a trip to hospital for Charli which resulted in a foreign object being roughly gouged from her ear, kicking off an anxiety of medical offices for the poor kid (came in to play for the remainder of the year).</p><p>Relatives came to visit which was an experience in itself, leaving Jake & myself fuming for a good time afterward. </p><p>Charli got a rash that lasted days and resulted in another hospital trip. After being such an anti-phenergan Mum, I found myself wondering where the fuck it had been all my life as my child slept soundly and didn't scratch an inch of skin overnight.</p><p>By this time Covid was well and truly knocking Australia around - borders were closing, toilet paper was non-existent, the Karen's were out in force. Char had been diagnosed with a small heart defect mid 2019 and I was not quite a year post open heart surgery myself, which gave us pause and ended in the decision to self-isolate with just Jake attending work and the grocery store. Charli and I didn't leave the house (apart from walking around the block) for 57 days. It was great and horrible all at the same time - I had plenty of time to enjoy being with Charli - I also had zero space, which I crave. We lost touch with friends simply because we couldn't see them. We got closer to others - because the time and space to call them was there. </p><p>We bought a puppy. A Great Dane x Australian Cattle Dog. We have been repairing destruction to out back yard ever since</p><p>Charli had her echocardiogram follow-up and was <i>cleared. </i>Her heart had outgrown the defect which there was a 50% chance of. I can't even begin to tell you how much of a relief that was. This was the cue to head back out into the world. Covid numbers were going down and the Queensland Premier (who I think is a bit of a champ), was setting tough restrictions; So we felt a little more comfortable on the whole.</p><p>Jake decided he would like to try for another baby. I agreed and so our IVF journey began. After one round we had only one egg, which successfully transferred. We fell pregnant and just as with Charli the signs came though hella early. We then miscarried and my body did not respond well - I bled for 23 days. The hormones and general shittiness of the situation carried on making hell for my health for a good long while after.</p><p>A childhood friend was diagnosed with Breast Cancer and although it wasn't mine to carry something about one of the brightest lights from my life being diagnosed, having to go through the chemotherapy and not knowing how that would all turn out, hit me square in the guts. I should've known better. Bad bitch that she is she has overcome chemo, allergies to chemo, a double mastectomy and is currently on the arse end of radiation, cruising through like a boss.</p><p>My sister & niece returned from the US (a relief as we watched Covid grow over there and the BLM riots going off). They stayed with us for 6 weeks. It was a fun experience, some deep chats were had, board & card games played, and there was the general excitement of Charli who was happy to have more than boring old Jake and I in the house. Home felt a little bit empty for a while when they moved to their own place.</p><p>Charli participated in her first MS Read-a-thon which is something we will now do each year. </p><p>I had surgery on my toe (do not recommend) and had a very thorough breast examination done after the reappearance of a very large lump. Thankfully it is just hormonal and was likely a result of the IVF drugs. </p><p>Spunky Husband bought a new car which he can actually sit in without having to hunch. It's a sexy beast, diesel, too big for the garage. Adieu to the Yaris that was literally falling apart. (The clutch had gone the week before).</p><p>November seen the remnants of one those shaky relationships from the start of the year begin to crumble and become more and more difficult. I took some leave from work to get my head on straight.</p><p>Jake and I concentrated on the house - getting some small projects finished, doing a deep clean and getting everything nice for Christmas.</p><p>The last of the family members that were overseas made it home safe & something about that made a distant part of me feel a little more <i>right.</i></p><p>December feels like its very own year. Nelson turned 8. My best mate is getting older and although he is healthy and happy (other than when Reggie is annoying the shit out of him), I know he's starting to slow down and that his years are getting shorter.</p><p>That crumbling relationship fell completely to pieces and I followed suit.</p><p>Our little trio went up the coast for a week - our first proper solo holiday as a family (since we had to cancel our NZ trip - cheers Covid.) It was lovely - sunshine, no commitments, friends visiting. It was also one of the worst emotional and mental weeks I have had in the past decade and I was not in a good place for majority of it. I read Matt Haig's ' The Midnight Library', which I had been saving for the occasion. I loved it. For those who have read it though you will understand when I say I was at a point where Nora's character resonated a little too deeply with me at that moment and I could barely breathe for those first chapters.</p><p>We came home from the coast and I celebrated my 30th birthday feeling the loneliest I think I have ever felt in my life. A birthday I had been looking forward to for such a long time.</p><p>Christmas came and went, we tried to enjoy it as a trio and we kinda did. But it wasn't right. The relationship break-down was too close to the event for us to attend without lots of tension. So we stayed away and it was certainly the worst Christmas I've ever had and something I hope we don't have to do every year.</p><p>And here we are, the last day of the year. Now, after such a massive dip, I feel mentally & emotionally probably stronger than I have ever felt before. Charli is excited as can be about tomorrow for our traditional New Years Day Beach Trip! Jake is, as always, simply happy he doesn't have to work tomorrow.</p><p>There's a lot there. It was a HUGE year. But before I looked at the photos this morning, that wasn't what was sitting with me.</p><p>We lost no one. Everyone we are close to is still alive and in good health.</p><p>My cousin, after a horrible couple of years medically, is back to life as normal.</p><p>My heart is back to it's normal size, which the doctors told me it probably never would be.</p><p>Charli's heart is has also gone completely normal and she doesn't face any surgeries for defects. </p><p>My little cousin got married and she looked so beautiful and happy.</p><p>Multiple friends got engaged, married and had babies. So much love to see on social media.</p><p>Charli sung the Frozen lullaby to put Nelson to sleep.</p><p>I started collecting breadtags for an charity that makes wheelchairs for South African people who can't afford them. So many people got on the bandwagon and are still on, handing in their tags whenever they can.</p><p>When Charli and I were both sick earlier in the year, my girlfriend and her boys dropped in a care packages of yummy food and fun activities. </p><p>In the height of self isolation, talking movies with a very old work friend who needs so much education on the subject. </p><p>The cleaning lady at my work caught me having a cry in the tea room before work started. She gave me a hug at the time and bought a box of chocolates to my desk later that day.</p><p>Reggie. Reggie is an arsehole and I love him to absolute bits. Despite eating my plants, destroying the electrical wiring and sprinkler system in the garden, destroying the veggie patch, pulling the wiring out of the air conditioning unit, chewing on the outdoor table, etc, etc. He is actually the sweetest pup in the world and I have to make myself remember he is only 9 months old despite his size.</p><p>Charli overcoming many, many fears - swings, swimming, bugs, doctors (after the ear thing.)</p><p>My sister in law giving Charli hugs and stickers at the hospital after said ear episode.</p><p>Having a giggle with my eldest sister when she told me about catching her almost teenage sons talking smack about her in the car. </p><p>The music, shows and movies that made me laugh, cry & feel. I'll make a list. Trust me.</p><p>My second eldest sister for being the one I call when I need an ear.</p><p>The work mates that you see walk in and think "thank christ they're here today."</p><p>My third eldest sister for being the one I call when we are in a spot. Who has Charli when I'm in the hospital (multiple times now).</p><p>Watching the Mum in the car behind me at KFC realise I'd paid for her family's meal and losing her shit with excitement.</p><p>To my childhood friend for dropping by not only for a chat when I wasn't in a good place but bearing gifts of crystals and plants as well as a happy meal for Charli.</p><p>The multiple stangers and celebrities on Instagram that light up my feed with their inspiration, funny moments & day-to-day life. I've got a list guys, I'll add them to my post.</p><p>The one lovely stanger on instagram who shares the same name, I met during IVF who, after miscarrying, I wished all of my baby dust to. She is now expecting a baby in August.</p><p>Where the Crawdads Sing. The Six of Crows duology,,. And many other books but these stood out for me and have a little bit of my heart.</p><p>Re-connecting with my niece who is now old enough to have social media.</p><p>Nelson, for knowing when I'm down or anxious and pawing at me until he finally settles down with (usually on) me.</p><p>My big brothers hugs whenever we leave his house after a big day of work. He always means the hugs he gives and you can feel it.</p><p>I fell in love with Camomile Tea and started collection funny mugs (mostly with expletives).</p><p>My family playing spoons at a family get-together this year. There was so much laughter.</p><p>Being organised and making Charli's Easter Bonnet Parade hat long before Covid hit and the parade never happening... She wore that thing around the house for months.</p><p>Eating too much food and rolling ourselves around Mount Tamorine on a family day out with Charli in the back of the car looking for "The Elephant to begin the climb" because she had just watched Jumanji the day before.</p><p>The giant grasshopper debacle where I would not get Charli or I out of the car until Jake got home from work and shooed it away. The prick then stalked the front of the house for hours.</p><p>Making Apple Pie from scratch. Never gets old.</p><p>At Halloween enjoying seeing a friend who had a hard year be back to themselves and genuinely happy for the first time in so long.</p><p>Being thought of by so many people for hand-me-downs for Charli. Appreciated, every single time.</p><p>My new tatt which I was worried about getting in such an obvious place that I am absolutely in love with.</p><p> The girls group chat I have with 2 other book loving Mummas that often gives me such a laugh.</p><p>Charli's reaction to - everything. She is full of joy and I hope that stays true for as long as possible. </p><p>A friend who Charli calls Uncle for being the most thoughtful prick in the world. </p><p>Charli singing. I can't even put into words the feeling in my gut and heart when she breaks out in song with such zeal. </p><p>But mostly what stuck with me was Jake. My Husband who through every single thing that I've loved, hated, laughed at or cried through has been there. Steadfast. Unwavering. Completely immovable. The expression "My Rock" has never made so much sense.</p><p>I suppose my whole point is I'm grateful. For the small and the big things. That I don't really see the world in terms of a pandemic or a shit president. That despite the many overwhelming things we had happening this year, our world, <i>my</i> world is made up of all these amazing moments, memories & people who make it worthwhile, happy & special. So let 2021 bring what it's gonna bring and make it the year you want it to be. x</p>Ak2190http://www.blogger.com/profile/18401622704990621411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5935423435909705083.post-55999059440134047882020-01-31T04:18:00.002-08:002020-01-31T05:10:44.375-08:008 Months of Illumination<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This is how I go to sleep now, guys.<br />
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That’s right, this 29 year old woman needs a night light.<br />
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It all started with my open heart surgery last May. Pre-op, I was terrified; in the 4 months prior to surgery I had <i>happened</i> upon another 2 drug allergies (just add 'em to the list), so I was in the frame of mind to be prepared for anything. I made sure my Will was done, that Jake had a diary done for the year ahead with birthdays, appointments, reminders, that the bank accounts were full enough to cover funeral costs and keep my small family afloat until they re-adjusted their living. Obviously, I was under the impression I could very well die. So, the evening prior to and morning of my surgery I had to use every ounce of willpower to stay in that hospital. If you’ve read any of my blogs from back then you’ll know that if Steve the anesthetic guy hadn’t been man-handling whichever limb of mine was closest to him at the time and talking to me constantly, my ass might not have been wheeled into the theater that day. Obviously the last thing I recall is voices fading out and darkness coming in.<br />
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I remember waking up in ICU a few times that first night. After gesturing for my breathing tube to be removed, I started having a reaction to the pain relief which involved violently vomiting bile. I couldn’t move much with my freshly cracked chest, so I was forced to ride it out each time by hugging a thick towel, and bring up what I could, where I could. Sometimes I had the presence of mind to buzz a nurse before it started coming up but a few times they didn’t make it to me before the thick hot liver-made goodness landed on my pillow, bed, chin and neck It was a pretty bleak experience. The most memorable thing for me was the fear. In and out of consciousness, not able to sit up on my own or lay on my side, vomiting, sometimes with no assistance... What if I choked? All of this happened in very dim, far-off lighting, so it was all just shapes in shades of black and white. A memory I hated for the longest time.<br />
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Finally out of ICU I stayed on the ward for 4 nights. As everyone knows, in hospital there is no such thing as the dark. There is always a light on somewhere. And between being woken up for obs, fellow patients being dicks with their TV’s up loud or simply getting up to the bathroom - there no such thing as silence.<br />
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Once home from hospital I was confined to the recliner for sleep. Jake, good human that he is, slept on the couch next to me and every night my anxiety grew, until night 4 at home when I lost my shit entirely. I fell into a pit of deep depression and ended up on the toilet (still having trouble balancing my pain meds vs bowel movements), sobbing my heart out to my best friend, who I’m sure had entirely no idea what the hell to do. Then my Mum came over and basically just held me on the couch until I stopped crying. It was the pits. This whole time the lamp next to me was always on overnight, just in case I needed anything (It was hard for me to reach out & turn it on & off from my chair at this point). But as the next week came and the pain lessened, there were fewer night-time wake ups and no real need for the lamp. So, one night, Jake turned it off. I was instantly overcome with panic and demanded he turn it back on. I didn't really understand why, I thought it was probably just because of the bad mental & emotional days. But as time went on, I realised there was possibly a lot more to it.<br />
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My fear of dying and all of the preparations I had made for the possible eventuality had consumed me in the 5 months from diagnosis to my surgery. Now that I had made it to the other side, I think subconsciously I was still in that mind frame. So, I clung to all of the things that felt comfortable and safe and let me know I was still alive - including light. I think the dark reminded me of going under, which I associated with dying and I felt out of control when I was in complete darkness - almost devoured by it. I'm past all of that mind fuckery now but it seems like my body is not - the immediate reactions it has certainly attest to that.<br />
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Jake has trouble falling to sleep and staying asleep with the light on... so of course we have tried many times in the 8 months since to overcome this anxiety of mine. We've tried turning the light off after I've fallen asleep but each time I'd wake up soon after, panicking before I was even fully aware of what was going on. We've gone cold turkey - that was fun. For now we've made it outside the bedroom to the hall light - far enough away that Jake's sleep isn't so interrupted but so that I get some sleep myself. The goal at the moment is to find a way to get the light further away bit by bit until my body learns to sleep in the dark again.<br />
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But this is more of a shout out to say hey to anyone dealing with weird shit that they probably don't really think to talk about or may be a little embarrassed by. It's cool guys - my 3 and a half year old is cooler than me so, you know. Do what works and love the shit out of yourself and your journey.Ak2190http://www.blogger.com/profile/18401622704990621411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5935423435909705083.post-83832300239896273772019-06-22T04:04:00.005-07:002019-06-22T04:04:57.319-07:00The Bovine Patch Chronicles Part V: 3 Steps Forward, 2 Steps Back<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's like a dance, this recovery thing; and for me, that doesn't mean a graceful flow of movement...<br />
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I may have gotten a little over excited about life last week - getting my licence (freedom) back & feeling well enough to start doing more things. Ask anyone who knows me well - I don't do anything by halves - it's either at 120% or not at all. So on Saturday, I went full throttle, it was a great day but I was absolutely shattered by the time I got home. The trend continued though & I decided I really needed to start doing a lot more for myself so I hung out clothes, cleaned the kitchen & bathrooms, dusted, vacuumed. Mum had a lot to say about all of that but I was sick of feeling dependent. But, I found myself extremely sore most days, some days by very early afternoon.<br />
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On Monday night, I woke up with a choking sensation - I managed to get back to sleep but woke up again in excruciating pain down my left arm, across the left side of my chest & back. We called an ambulance & away I went. Thankfully Charli, who had had temperatures all night, stayed sound asleep during the whole thing & Nelson assisted in that by not fussing over the ambulance officers. It turned out that my left lung had re-collapsed & had fluid at the bottom of it which they informed me could well have caused that amount of pain. I was thankful it was nothing to do with my heart but frustrated to hear about my lung.<br />
The hospital trip & CT scan I had there led to some extra information which I talked about with the GP. A CT is NOT the mode of examination used to confirm the presence or absence of the defect in my heart, I will have another echocardiogram to do that BUT my CT showed no signs at all of the defect which previously could be seen. I'm trying not to get too excited about that but also feeling hopeful! The CT results also stated that the sternum fusion was incomplete... I casually mentioned that to the doctor, just checking it was okay at this point. She looked almost sorry for me as she explained the bone there wouldn't fuse back together until the 6-9 month mark. THAT news certainly made me want to slow down. I went to meet a friend for lunch & do some painting at the hobby store after that which made me feel a lot better & it was nice to be out of the house.<br />
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Friday's plans had been on the cards since last week. I told Jake I was desperate to go to the BookFest in Brisbane. So, Jake asked for a days leave & we planned to go into the convention center & nerd out, maybe have some lunch... We got there, picked our first section & split up to cover more ground. I probably should have hired a trolley because I was stuffing books in my bag - then that was full, so I just started holding them. I very quickly got faint & felt so nauseous. I called Jake, who ran across the section to my rescue. We headed for the check-out then, satisfied that we'd done enough in that particular spot. I told Jake I might just have a seat outside while he paid, I was feeling worse by the second. The good people from Lifeline had really done a great job this year with a "revive" area full of couches. I plonked down on one, breathing deep to stave off the nausea. The lightheaded feeling only increased & I ended up slithering onto the floor, much to the dismay of some of the other book buyers. Jake came from the check-outs & I asked him to find me a sick bag because I didn't feel I could make a trek to the toilet. That caused a flurry & I ended up with a beautiful security guard, Cheryl, sitting with me while Jake went to get my something sugary from the cafe. I'd simply overdone it - with a bit of pain, not enough energy in general & low-blood sugar I ended up crumpled on the floor, leaning against a couch eating mouse sized portions of a blueberry muffin. Jake had taken the day off & we had driven all the way in here for this, there was no way in hell I was just heading home. So while I slowly & quietly regained some strength, Jake hit up another section for the both of us. By the time he returned I was well enough to <i>very slowly</i> go through the last section with him. We hired a trolley this time & things were a lot easier that way. Another stupid thing we done was park under South Bank. In the spirit of wanting to get lunch & planning for it to be the last place we were at, it seemed logical at the time. So, Jake carried 4 bags FULL of books (56 to be exact) the two block walk back to the car. Ladies, if this isn't your man, get rid of him...<br />
We did end up stopping off for lunch (late lunch thanks to my episode) & running a couple of errands while we were at the shopping center. We then grabbed Charli from daycare early & took her to the park. Needless to say, last night I felt like I'd been hit by a Mack Truck.<br />
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Today I took things much easier & even uncharacteristically asked Mum to come by this morning while Jake worked to help do some washing & vacuuming. Thanks Mum! I'm still feeling extra sore tonight & it's a bit of a sign to say slow down, I think. As much as I want to do things, going too hard, too fast is only going to make recovery slower & more painful.<br />
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There have been a lot of peaks & valleys this week but here's to a slower, more restful week ahead. No bookfests to be crazy at, only <br />
light house duties & fingers crossed no hospital visits!Ak2190http://www.blogger.com/profile/18401622704990621411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5935423435909705083.post-87304246442854786472019-06-14T04:25:00.001-07:002019-06-14T04:25:15.630-07:00The Bovine Patch Chronicles Part IV: 4 Weeks Out<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Woohoo - today I am 4 weeks post-op & feeling like it! <div>
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I'm comfortably walking 1.5km a day & although my recovery book still suggests that distance for another week, I'm feeling good enough to kick it up a notch & see how I go with 2km. My range of movement isn't 100% but I have enough back to not struggle as much with things like drying myself off after a shower or putting my seat belt on. I'm still restricted with what I lift. For the next 2 weeks I am completely restricted, not able to hang out heavy washing or take the bin out. Following the next fortnight though, I can gradually work up to lifting heavier things but all up it will still take another 8 weeks from now until I can start to get anywhere near back to normal. LONG ASS ROAD.<div>
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Today I was able to convince my GP to give me a driving clearance. I had to do an interesting jumping test. No joke, they make you jump on the spot & if you don't have pain, they allow your licence back after a minimum period (funnily enough, 4 weeks). So I held onto the girls & jumped on the spot, confident because I wanted my licence back but also waiting for my chest to cave in because, fear. Obviously I can't go road-tripping but I will be able to take Charli to daycare & get myself to the doctor & local shop if I need to. It's a massive turning point for me to have some independence & freedom back. I imagine it will be another taxing task that will add to the soreness at the end of each day but it is totally worth it.</div>
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So pre-op I joined the gym. I was advised to get my leg strength up as I wouldn't be able to use my arms to get out of bed or off the couch, I also have to get up completely to readjust myself every time I want to shift the way I am sitting... So I went & smashed my legs for weeks leading up to surgery. I'm so glad I did I have to pick anything up off the floor by squatting & I'm able to get up off the floor without needing to hold onto anything. This has been wonderful in cheating my recovery book a little. The book stated I shouldn't have a bath for at least 8-12 weeks post op as I can't start to support any of my weight until around then. Yeah, nope. The bath is my haven - any time I feel anxious the bath is one of my first go-to's, I read in there & still jump in with Charli a lot. This week I couldn't wait any longer so Jake & I tested it out while the tub was dry. It was a little sketchy & I almost didn't try it again but I caved and thanks to my crippling work outs I can twist & stand on my own from laying in the bath. Like a bad-ass. So that is one exciting step back to normal life & I've enjoyed 4 already - reading books, singing "Let it Go" with Charli & fighting Nelson away as he tried to drink my bath water. On a serious note though, it is really hard to properly hug & do things with Charli at the moment & being able to be close to her & wash her hair, which we make funny, has been a real mood-lifter.</div>
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On the subject, mentally & emotionally I am better. Certainly far from 100% & mostly struggling at night time. I find it hard to concentrate so distracting myself with a book or show is actually really frustrating & often makes me feel worse, so I cry while Jake snores beside me, already better for the fact that he still chooses to sleep on the couch next to me instead of in the comfy new bed we bought so recently. </div>
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I think my sleeping arrangement had a lot to do with how I am feeling - I can't lay flat on my back - the pain is actually excruciating & my side although not ridiculously painful is way too uncomfortable to sleep on any time soon. I'm a stomach sleeping through & through & not being able to stretch out my very tight, very sore back is frustrating beyond belief. The GP confessed today that it can often take up to 3 months before I can lay flat for a start. By night time I am tired & super sore. I don't want to be on heavy painkillers but panadol is pathetic & I am banned from having nurofen for a while yet. So I've been having half of an endone on the nights where I can't fall asleep without it. It's currently a fine line between trying to stretch & strengthen during the day but not so much that I am aching through my whole chest at night. On the bright side, I was cleared to have my neck, shoulders & upper back massaged as long as I am in a chair & not laying down (obviously!) I'll be seeing the lovely, i.e. TERRIFYING ladies at the local massage place in the next week to try & alleviate some of those issues.</div>
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I also got the shits with having my hair not properly washed (my drain sites are still a little yuck & the GP doesn't want them to be wet where possible & it was also hard to wash my hair properly at the length & thickness it was, hands above head is also still a stretch. Soooo, I cut it all off. I can't actually tie it back its so short & I'm loving the ease & lightness at the moment. Thankfully Jake liked the surprise... It was a surprise for me too - I went to the salon to get a nice proper wash & walked out missing several inches off my hair.</div>
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So really things are going pretty good. I cannot believe I hae come so far in so little time & the horror of the hospital & first week home seem like a lifetime ago. Thanks so much again everyone for all of your support & love in what has been one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. xo</div>
Ak2190http://www.blogger.com/profile/18401622704990621411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5935423435909705083.post-15461424448522702282019-06-06T05:01:00.001-07:002019-06-06T05:01:51.876-07:00The Bovine Patch Chronicles Part III: Recovery at Home<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The first time I seen the Cardiologist back in January, he first explained the defect in detail & then went on to list the tests that would have to be done to make a decision around surgery. He then discussed surgical options with a definite sway towards open heart. That is, he said there were 2 options with ASD closure; option one was the hole being plugging via an artery, option two being open heart surgery. He then went on to talk only about open heart surgery & also promoted it as the best way to ensure a successful closure. I was never silly enough not to put stock in that & immediately planned for everything to go that way.<br />
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I didn't Google anything about it because I knew I would read something I didn't want to, but I did make the mistake of joining a Facebook Group for my specific defect. <i>WELL... </i>It was a host of horror stories, mostly about plug closures via the artery. The amount of people who had to go back more than once for the procedure was phenomenal & I was in no way prepared to have my ticker played with multiple times to only end up having open heart anyway (quite a few people had this happen). Needless to say I ended up leaving that group within a week & although I was already mentally prepared for open heart surgery, this gave me the mindset that despite what the tests showed & what the cardiologist said there was no way I was going for anything less than what was going to fix it. I was prepared to question the plug option were it presented to me.<br />
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And so, throughout all of the tests & procedures, all of the preparations, despite all of the fear & anxiety about the whole situation, the logical side of my brain always won out. Everything was a question of what needed to be done & how to see it through. The worry could come later. After my angiogram/heart catheter, I knew it would be mere weeks until I had the actually surgery; and because I'm a planner & a stress-head, I was all over that. Leigh, a nurse from the surgical bookings team at the hospital got well acquainted with me over the next week & a half. I could hear her sigh & frustration every time I called. She was never rude but I was certainly being a squeaky wheel - I wanted to be oiled! The pushing kept me on task, not thinking about what was about to happen, just getting busy organising it. The same with the weeks lead up to surgery when I cooked & shopped & tidied to make life easier for Jake while I was away. Even the unexpected extra week I was able to make use of myself.<br />
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I knew the night before & the morning of surgery would be super hard. Even in the early days of diagnosis, deep down I was already fearful that something would go wrong & I would not wake up again - that is obvious by the fact that I went to get a Will done. Logically, the surgery was simple & routine in this day & age, there was such a minimal risk for me. Buuuut, because of all the pop-up allergies, particularly medical ones, that had only been found this year alone coupled with the fact that I've watched Final Destination too many times... there was always worry & doubt.<br />
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But that was all I had prepared for. I knew I had to hold onto my logical & sane thoughts until that moment when I was finally under, when they could go ahead & do what needed to be done & I wouldn't need to think about it anymore. I had prepared meals, babysitters, drivers, finances, sleeping arrangements, paperwork out the wazoo. I had not prepared for the hospital days which were way harder than anticipated & I had not prepared to come home & do anything other than recover. To follow instructions with medications, wounds, exercised & otherwise enjoy the down time to read, catch up on good shows, paint, play the PlayStation, maybe try to draw a little.<br />
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I was not prepared.<br />
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My first night home was a little bit of a blur. Discharge from the hospital & getting home had been exhausting. Jake was home with me for the remainder of the week which meant two full days of just us at home while Charli was at daycare & a full weekend to spend together. We went for walks as part of my exercises given by the hospital, Jake slept on the lounge next to me while I slept on the recliner. For company at night when anxieties would pop up. We went to doctors appointments, we watched some movies & each day got harder. I was off the charts with anxiety, which was hard but I can always manage. It was going way off the deep end with depression. A low I haven't felt for a very long time. I was so scared come Sunday night, the combination of everything I was feeling added to the fact that Jake was headed back to work the next day left me in a hot mess.<br />
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For anyone who hasn't felt the lowest of what depression can feel like, it's indescribable. The loss of control over your own mind & emotions is incredible. Complete hopelessness, all-consuming fear and despite any logic, despite any previous victorious battles with the condition, nothing will convince you you will feel okay again.<br />
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So, Sunday night, still uncomfortable with bowel movements, I was on the loo trying to let <i>anything</i> happen when I was overcome emotionally. I called for Jake & BEGGED for him to do something. Not really knowing what the hell was happening to me, Jake was at a bit of a loss so I ended up blubbering/yelling at him to either take me to the hospital or call someone to come help. To add to the chaos, Charli had woken up from her sleep inconsolable after what we think was a nightmare. So, in the end Jake ended up on the couch cuddling Charli & I ended up on the couch cuddling Mum. A relaxant & a hit of Endone made me less tense & erratic. I was too scared to be alone for a while after that & Jake had an extra day off to make sure I was okay.<br />
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None of this made any sense to me. The hardest part of this whole thing was supposed to be just before the surgery. Emotionally & mentally, being home & recovering was supposed to be the easiest part. I planned for everything else but this. Since then I've taken each hour, each day bit by bit. Thankfully the intensity & frequency have both died down but I have found myself with intense fears around death & hospital that I have never had before. At the moment Jake is still sleeping on the couch every night by my side, fighting for space with the dog because he knows Nelson helps too. My Mum still comes every day, not only to help me do all of the things I can't so myself but to make sure I am feeling okay in myself. But, as my pain has become less intense and tiring & I've been able to do more things independently (still so far from back to normal), I seem to have been able to deal with my thoughts & feelings better. I'm hopeful the trend will continue & once I'm back to normal this will be another memorable victory for me.<br />
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So it hasn't been a happy chapter, but it's all part of the journey so I'm writing it. I am so thankful for my amazing support team. I've never had a day go by without someone helping or just stopping in to keep me company while I am stuck at home. I appreciate every single message, call & visit. Love you all x</div>
Ak2190http://www.blogger.com/profile/18401622704990621411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5935423435909705083.post-69380891522163486362019-06-02T23:59:00.002-07:002019-06-02T23:59:49.227-07:00The Bovine Patch Chronicles Part II: Post Op Hospital Days<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Steve kept his promise. I woke up, painfully & slowly, with wires, tubes & machines swinging off me everywhere. I know I fought them to get rid of the oxygen tube, I have extremely vague memories of weakly gesturing for them to take it out. I don't remember them actually doing it, but they finally did which was good because the next time I came to I was vomiting. Obviously I had nothing in my stomach at that point so it was just bile but oh my, it was horrendous. I was barely awake, spewing onto my chin & down my neck while the nurse grabbed a sick bag & told me to support my chest through the heaving by hugging a towel. I'm thankful I don't remember much of all this, just waking up every so often for another spew. I remember demanding to know what pain medication I was on. They told me it was Fentanyl & I immediately demanded that they change it. Fentanyl makes me vomit & I am allergic to most anti-nausea medications - not a great combination. Eventually, my medication was changed to Endone. I woke up sporadically from then on but remained mostly unaware for the rest of the day & night. Mum recapped the conversations she had with the nurse when she called the ICU to see how I was doing. Apparently my brain to mouth filter malfunctions when I am drugged up & coming out of general anesthetic; I told the nurse to leave me alone because I needed to sleep when she was trying to do an ECG at one point. Thankfully, the nurse found this amusing & not just me being super rude... Apparently I had multiple phone conversations myself with Jake & Mum.<br />
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I have very little recollection of the following days. I was still in ICU for the majority of Saturday. I could barely eat despite the nurses best efforts to get me something I would enjoy. The physio & nurse wanted me to get up & walk but I was too dizzy & weak to stand or walk on the first couple of tries. I eventually managed something like 6 steps before I was planted in a seat where I fell in & out of sleep. Jake was with me from late morning until they moved me to the ward late in the afternoon. I don't recall much other than the wheelchair ride from point A to B which felt more like a ride in a rally car.<br />
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To me, cannulas are horrifying on a good day & at this point I had a catheter for my bladder, a central line catheter in my neck (going into my jugular vein - YUCK), two drains in the top of my stomach, two pacing wires also going through the top of my stomach to my heart (like a temporary pace maker), a constant ECG monitor (5 wires stuck around my chest & stomach to little sticky pads), a vacuum wound dressing over my sternum which was connected to a pump & oxygen through my nose. Just gorgeous, as you can imagine.<br />
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I was lucky enough to have lots of visitors on Sunday, Jake, Mum, my brother, sister-in-law, niece & a couple of friends ventured in through the day which was lovely but I was terrible company, still dopey, dropping in & out of sleep at times & with the catheter removed early that morning, I was in & out of bed to the toilet what seemed like every 15 minutes. Boy, that was a process. I was probably the closest patient in our room of four to the toilet & it took an enormous amount of time & energy to do a wee. Getting out of bed for a start was incredibly more intense that I was prepared for. I had to support my chest by hugging myself as I was pushed up out of the bed, then, navigating all of the cords, tubes & wires & trying to wheel the shitty IV pole all of 5 paces to the toilet, get on & off, wash my hands, get 5 paces back to bed & get back into the bed (another fun adventure of sitting & leaning a specific way, so the nurse was able to help me not use my arms to bear my weight).<br />
<br />
So far things had been okay, if I wasn't completely out of it, I was relaxed enough to just chill out in my bed or on my chair. Then Monday came & it was the worst day possible. My central line, where my Endone had been available at the push of a button had been removed. The pain probably would have been fine had the doctor prescribed a bigger dose per day, unfortunately it took the whole day of me complaining to nurses & finally seeing the doctor to say my pain wasn't being managed properly before they checked my chart & promptly apologised, upping the dose. On top of that was normal bodily functions that were not so normal - going to the toilet to do either a one or a two was the worst - I felt like I had a urinary tract infection without the pain, just a constant need to go that was never sated no mater how often I went. The other side of things was the same, feeling the need to go but nothing happening. As you can imagine that was uncomfortable. This particular day was also the worst for staffing. There simply weren't enough staff to see to the needs of so many patients. As one of the needier patients (Still unable to get myself out of bed, reach things & go to the bathroom unassisted) that constantly needed to go to the toilet, it was painful to press my nurse assist button & not be seen to for 10 minutes or so. I was super thankful when my sister & Mum arrived, not only for the company but for the help. They gave me a bird bath on the bed because I was too weak, tired & sore to have a proper shower & fed me some lunch. It was on one of the trips to the bathroom where I had a meltdown & begged Mum to stay with me for the rest of the day. I fell asleep after that when I was finally allowed more pain medication & from sheer exhaustion. I woke up to find Mum still with me which was a massive relief as the trips to the bathroom started up again. I can't remember how many times I got up to go to the bathroom but it was a lot & the last time I spent something like 10-15 minutes just trying to go. I finally gave up which was not the right call, because I ended up going as I went to sit back in my chair. In a moment of complete horror, I looked at my Mum & I'm sure my face said everything. Mum was able to grab a nearby nurse who promptly & discreetly cleaned up the seat while Mum got me into the shower. The nurse took the time to explain how common it was, with the combination of pain killers & softeners it's hard to tell when anything is actually going to happen. She offered me adult pull-ups as she further explained that it was likely to happen again. I eagerly took her up on it, preferring to have any further accidents contained. Thankfully it remained a precaution & I didn't shit myself again 😏<br />
<br />
Tuesday was a better day in the slow upward climb to getting better. I felt more awake and able than before & even managed to have a shower after the disturbing removal of my pacing wires & vacuum dressing. Finally free of the IV pole it was much easier to get around. On the doctors rounds, they let me know they would likely be sending me home the following day which was a scary surprise. They wanted to do another chest X-ray & echo-cardiogram which turned out to be horrendous; the sonographer spent a good deal of time leaning on & therefore pulling at the stitches in my right drain wound. The nurse had to pull the stitch tight again *gag*. Mum & my other sister came to visit through the day which was lovely & since I was no longer connected to machines & able to wear normal clothes, Jake brought Charli along for his evening visit. It was the first time I had seen her since the night before the operation & the longest time I had ever spent apart from her before. It was horrible to not be able to cuddle her properly but she sat happily in the chair next to me & ready 10 Silly Wombats over & over while Jake & I reminded her to use her inside voice every few minutes. To keep Char occupied, I got her to take me for a walk around the nurses station - something I had only been able to accomplish earlier that day, very slowly. She made herself famous, waving & giggling at everyone she passed; the nurse from my room rewarded her with a chocolate.<br />
<br />
Wednesday came & I was cleared to head home, big sis had come to pick me up but it took forever to get properly discharged, which meant waiting in the Transit Lounge for an hour & a half. I started to get pretty anxious sitting there, I'm not sure why but it was a god-send when the pharmacist finally arrived with my medication & I could leave. After such a gross few days in the hospital, it was exciting to be in the comfort of home and begin the next stage of recovery.Ak2190http://www.blogger.com/profile/18401622704990621411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5935423435909705083.post-33087867124787310662019-05-31T05:13:00.001-07:002020-05-16T16:02:43.333-07:00The Bovine Patch Chronicles Part I: Pre Op<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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As always, writing is like a therapy for me; but I really haven't known where to even start. I've felt the need to write out my experience over the past fortnight to get it out of me, to have lived it outside of the dark places in my mind & let it go. But I haven't been able to actually do it. Jake, my Husband, biggest supporter & editor told me to "Start at the beginning, continue with the middle & finish with the end." That makes sense, so lets do it.<br />
<br />
Two weeks ago today I had open heart surgery. Despite sitting here with a kick-arse zipper down the middle of my chest & the inability to lift anything other than a carton of milk, I <i>still</i> haven't processed that. Not properly anyway.<br />
<br />
I spent the day prior to surgery pretty much at the hospital, having been driven in by my big sister Brandi (thanks Bran!). It was a full day once we got there - blood tests, x-ray, echo-cardiogram, respiratory tests & meeting something in the vicinity of half a dozen staff - doctors, nurses, physios and an anesthetist. I didn't have much time to think which was a blessing. It wasn't until I was finally alone in my bed on the ward that things started to get a little not okay for me. Jake & Charli came up to see me which I was incredibly thankful for. They couldn't stay for long but it chewed through some time & of course they were the two people in the world I wanted to see at that point. Saying goodbye was unbelievably hard, I had to try not to be unreasonable & ask Jake to stay, especially when Charli asked why I wasn't coming home. I told her that I was feeling a bit sick & the doctors were going to make me all better; that this was my special room & I just had to stay here for a few days while the doctors gave me medicine. She thought about that for a minute before she accepted it & said farewell with her usual flare; royal wave, a hug & kiss combo to leave The Rock winded & "Goodbye, I love you, see you soon" that I'm sure everyone on the ward heard as she sauntered out of the room in her Panda Bear PJ's & Cherry shoes. Alone again, knowing no one else was coming & what lay before me, I found it hard to settle down. I still had all manner of staff streaming in, which broke up the horrible feelings & thoughts but came to an end all too swiftly. The walls began to close in fast & I just about harassed my nurse for a relaxant. I was pretty sure I was going to slip quietly from my room & disappear, never to be heard from by the hospital again, happy to live out the rest of my life physically inadequate & eventually be taken by the defect. At that point it seemed like the best option. Eventually, I was given a relaxant which sent me into a long heavy sleep quicker than I'd even hoped.<br />
<br />
Staying in hospital for any length of time is never a nice experience. Waking up to the reality you are about to go through a major surgery which involves being cut down the chest (14.5 centimeters to be exact), sternum cracked apart, put on a lung & heart bypass machine while both lungs are collapsed & the heart removed to open for patching. Then everything gets put back together. Piece of piss.<br />
<br />
The nurses came in & bustled me about, I went through the motions in what was a daze, I felt almost out of my body as I showered with special pre-op soap, gowned up, packed up my stuff & was lead to the theater waiting room. I will be forever grateful to two very special men that morning. A student nurse I unfortunately never got the name of, who seen me across the room - I must have looked as though I was about to burst into sobs by this point & he came to my rescue, holding my hand & chatting about anything else but my condition or the surgery. I barely remember the conversation, just being so thankful to have a small distraction, but enough of one to stop my head spinning quite so much. Then suddenly my bed was moving & a man named Steven was cheerfully telling me that he was part of the anesthetists team & would be helping me go off to sleep. At this point it's my last chance to leg it & that thought must have showed on my face because Steven had a tight grip on my arm, hand, or leg at any given moment as he chatted away, like we were new mates that just met at a bar. A few times he stopped to stroke my hair & tell me I was alright & that he would look after me. We're in the operating room by this time & I am openly crying my eyes out. Nice going Steve, mate, but you need to knock me out & you need to do it now. Before he finally did, I asked him to make sure I woke up again. He squeezed my hand & promised. Having been hooked up to multiple things during Steve's distracting, the world finally faded away & I was blissfully unaware.Ak2190http://www.blogger.com/profile/18401622704990621411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5935423435909705083.post-43147028544562283192019-04-25T05:19:00.002-07:002019-04-25T05:36:40.263-07:00The Heart of a Cow<br />
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If you’ve
been following my heart journey you’ll know my procedure this past Tuesday was
a big one. Not only was it an unexpected hiccup between the long list of initial
tests I had to undergo to determine what would be done about my condition & surgery; it
was a little invasive for my liking.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Last
Thursday I went in to my pre-admission appointment for this particular
procedure where I was seen by multiple medical professionals. I went on profusely
about my multiple allergies, my anxiety issues & my NEED for sedation
throughout this procedure (She assured me I would be sedated for one of the
procedures). I also went as far as to tell the Doctor (who looked all of 15)
that I didn’t give a rats ass what the procedure entailed, the less I knew the
better for me mentally. Apparently that was not an option – I could not sign
the consent form without being taken through the ins & outs of the
procedure, as well as the long list of risks that came with it. No signature,
no procedure. So I allowed her to tell me all about it, about the risks
involved & about what the outcome of the testing would mean for me. I left
the hospital that day dry-retching and in tears.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Hearing
about the catheter being inserted into my groin that would go up into the heart
& then into the lungs was enough to make me blanch; and then there was the
second consent form for that procedure if there were issues going through my
groin, they would then go through my jugular… Also, a surprise second procedure
was the angiogram. Basically the same thing but the catheter would be inserted
in my wrist. I was unaware up to that moment that I would be having both done.
So while I proceeded to start sweating bullets over that, she then went over
the risks. Small percentage risks that were super unlikely but made me want to
shove those consent forms in the lovely little doctor’s pie hole. Trying to
focus on the end goal & the fact that I needed to do all of this to get to
surgery, not only to stop myself from basically dying faster than most, but
improve my quality of life overall, I asked the natural question – would I know
a surgery date long after that? I appreciate that doctors are factual &
that it’s the nurses who do the bedside manner thing but she smiled so brightly
as she said; “Depending on the results of these procedures we may have to
medicate you, do other operations or procedures or you may not be deemed safe
enough to do the surgery at all. Do you have any other questions for me today?”
I made my escape from that office as fast as I could & hyperventilated in
my car for a while before setting off home. Out of all of it, the icky procedure
details, the scary risks no matter how small; it was the “…may not be deemed
safe enough to do the surgery at all...” that echoed through my mind. Surely
they would have a plan B. They couldn’t just let me slowly die, becoming more &
more susceptible to strokes, heart failure and various other things as time
went by & the damage increased. Surely.<o:p></o:p></div>
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So the weekend
went by, slow as you like. I tried to enjoy the Easter break with Jake &
Charli. I did, of course but the thoughts of procedures, risks, outcomes were always
lurking not far from the surface of my mind.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Tuesday
came, I dropped Charli at day-care, she was stoked for a second breakfast &
said her goodbye happily, which was awesome. She has been cluing onto a lot of
this stressful medical talk over the past 4 months & it has impacted her a
fair bit on & off. My sister was due to pick me up & drop me to the
hospital but there was a couple of hours to kill, I busied myself with
housework & was surprisingly calm, although the anxiety was hovering at my
back. The car ride was much the same, even arriving at the hospital, checking
in & sitting in the waiting room only increased my nerves the slightest
bit. I’m thankful my sister stayed with me until the nurse called me in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I said a cheery goodbye. It wasn’t until
then, until I was walking down cold blank hallways to a clinic room that the anxiety
started to dig in its claws & settle in every part of me. Knowing it was time
to get prepped for the procedure, knowing exactly what that procedure was, it
was all I could think about. I tried to concentrate on one thing at a time. The
nurse, Denise handed me one of those delightful hospital gowns that do up at
the back & also a hospital robe to cover what would have been let exposed.
She told me to strip down & put them on. I said “just leave my undies on?”
She chuckled. “No undies for you today except these pretty paper ones,
sweetheart” as she whipped them out of a packet with a flourish. “Don’t put
them on just yet though.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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I was in
jeans & a few layers (I knew the hospital would be cold) so it took me a
bit to undress & fold everything into my overnight bag. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Denise was obviously under the impression I
would be done & threw back the curtain in time to get a good look at every
inch of my neglected-arse Mum bod. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
didn’t seem to mind quite as much as I did & told me to lay on the bed as
soon as I was in my gowns. I did so. Then, like something out of a horror/comedy
film she whipped up an electric razor out of nowhere as she said “Well, let’s
see what’s down there” I’m not sure whether I was more mortified or amused.
After this somewhat traumatic ordeal, the anxiety increased as I put on my
delightful paper undies & sat at the table with her to “go over a few
things”<o:p></o:p></div>
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I immediately
let fly with “I know what I’m here for, why I’m having it done, I’m all good with
that, I’m just feeling pretty anxious”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“I can see
that, honey” as she flips to the medication section of my chart “they’ve
written you up Temazepam, we’ll get that for you in the next room – whoa!” She’d
reached the allergy section of that particular page… “so what DO we give you
for nausea, honey?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Only
Ondansetron” <o:p></o:p></div>
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“Okay, that’s
all in order, let’s get you all ready!”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Denise needed
to calm down with her enthusiasm. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Into the
next room we went. I put everything except my book & phone into a locker,
done a pee test & waited what seemed like an eternity for Denise to get me
my drugs. She instead started with my cannula, not the worst I’ve had but
certainly no picnic, especially when sweet Denise turned into murder nurse for
a moment there & brutally shoved the cannula in & out of my skin so I
was almost barfing. She had put a cannula I’d never seen before in my arm – it had
two inlets instead of one. I enquired as to why, she patted my arm & said “It’s
just standard for this department”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Well fuck
Denise, if I didn’t need my Temazepam before I certainly did now after your
jiggling about & sorrowful look. “Can I have my relaxant now?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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After taking
the relaxant & some Asprin to thin my blood for the procedure, I was still
shitting bricks. I couldn’t read, I was too worked up. I scrolled social media
aimlessly & annoyed friends on messenger with menial chatter.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Then old
mate Roger in the beds over yonder, stops breathing. The nurses flock, they are
yelling at him to “Take a big breath in for us, Roger!” & all I can hear is
horrible gurgling. Thankfully after some time, Roger came good, the nurses
resumed their other tasks. I was so glad that Roger was fine now, for Rogers’s
sake… but I did sink a little further into my recliner as the panic began to
rise. Between then & the next person I had to see, I resumed talking to friends,
who made silly crass jokes & took my away from the cold waiting area, the
itchy hospital clothes & the thoughts of what was to come. Suddenly a nurse
was there asking to have a chat. I turned my phone off then, thinking this was
it. Time to go in. Apparently not. She just wanted to clarify a heap of things.
She left & I thought it would surely be soon. Another 2 hours passed in
which I read & talked to other patients, the temazepam doing its job but
wearing off slowly. I knew it was reaching the end of its effects when I became
to restless to keep reading. Thankfully this was about the time the nurse came
out to tell me I was going in next & asked me some questions. The doctor
then came out to join us & asked pretty much the same stuff “Do you know
what we are doing today & why we are doing it?” “Yep”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Do you have
any other questions or concerns?” <o:p></o:p></div>
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“I’m fine as
long as you sedate me, I’d prefer to be sedated for both”<o:p></o:p></div>
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He looked at
me “We aren’t sedating you for either<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>-
it’s unnecessary. You will be fine.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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My face must
have said “Um, WHAT?” quickly followed by “NOPE” because the student nurse them
came sat with me until I was taken in – at which point I am crying and hyperventilating.
The doctor did not give two shits. “Make her comfortable” was all he said to
his staff.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Nurse 1: “Calm
down love, the procedure will go much better if you’re calm & not hyperventilating
on our table” She chuckled.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Nurse 2:
Taping my hand to the table at an odd angle “Just taping your hand here because
we need your wrist a certain way to get in there. You’re okay sweetheart, it’ll
be over before you know it.” She continues to talk my through putting dye on my
skin, explaining what the cold feeling is. The radiographer is then stroking my
head getting me to look at him. “I’m Dean & I’m going to look after you
okay, lovely?” Obviously they gave me something to calm me down but I was wide
awake as I watched the x-ray of what was happening in my body. I told myself
the more calm & still I was the better. It was hard to miss the monitor –
it was bigger than our 55” Sony at home & it was riiight next to my head.
So I watched. I felt no pain just weird little tugs here & there. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Suddenly it
was over, as quick as it had begun & I was in a recovery bed where I was
under strict instructions not to move my legs or the arm which they had used
for entry. Denise returned, explained that she would remove the tube from my
groin & would then have to keep pressure on for a while. She removed the
catheter without pain & proceeded to apply pressure to the area &
initiate awkward chit-chat. We remained this way for 15 minutes… I was wearing
a bracelet of sorts acting as pressure to the entry site on my wrist, Denise
would release some air from this every once in a while. They were adamant I
stay lying & still for 3 hours but were happy enough for me to go home that
day. I called Jake & let him know he could come get me at 7:15pm. I was
given a sandwich & sat up barely enough to eat it. I managed between naps
& inspections to my groin & wrist by Denise. There was a changeover of
nurses, the wardies said hi on their way in & out. Nurses of the other
patients also checked in. There was a large volume of traffic at the foot of my
bed so I wasn’t surprised by another face popping up. He introduced himself
& asked how I was doing – I immediately forgot his name because, well,
there were simply too many people here to remember them all. I told him I felt
fine, just looking forward to sitting up properly. He then spilled the news
that he was my surgeon & took no time diving into specifics about exactly
that. It was a blur. He talked about the fact that not having the surgery
ultimately meant dying because of the damage my heart would sustain & once
the damage was past a point there would be nothing they could do. Without
prompting & much to my horror he then explained some intricacies of the
surgery to me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“We will
open you up, put you on a bypass machine while we patch the hole in your heart.
The patch will be made from the tissue of a cows heart. Then we will close you
back up & you will recover”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Yep, cool”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Can I have
a look at your chest?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Why not
mate? Go for it. He pulls down my gown & proceeds to put pressure on the
top & bottom of my sternum. “You will be cut from here to here.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Yep, cool”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Any other questions
or concerns?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“What will
the time frame be on the surgery – when will I know the date?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Do you need
to discuss any more of the surgery details with me or you are happy with the
information you have to go ahead”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I am keen
to get this done”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Great, my
team will contact you with a date. It may be the week of or a couple of weeks
out but it will be absolutely done within the next 4 weeks”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“That sounds
good. Thank you”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Excellent.
Keep well, I will see you soon”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
He leaves. I
spent the next little while checking out my sternum & thinking about the
joy my siblings will get knowing my heart will literally have a piece of cow in
it…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I finally
got out of bed. Slowly. The “pain” in my wrist & groin was more discomfort
but it made getting dressed in a tiny change room a bit of a shit show. I
managed & headed out to sit in a recliner to await Jake’s arrival. One of
the nurses came to talk me through post-procedure care. I was feeling not flash
but that was to be expected. She started explaining what to do if any of the
sites started bleeding. I felt more crook as she went on. I told her I was
quite prone to anxiety & asked if I could take a relaxant. That was
absolutely fine. She continued on about how if the groin bled to apply pressure
for 10 minutes & seek a GP or ER if it didn’t stop. They only went through
a vein there so it would only dribble blood. It was here I told her I felt a
little more crook & asked for a sick bag, which she got.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
She then
proceeded to tell me about my wrist. The wrist was an artery & would in fact
spray bursts of blood with my heart beat. I needed to cover it with pressure immediately
& call an ambulance if it didn’t stop. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
It was here
that I told her I felt worse & promptly fainted. I came to with 4 nurses
sitting around my chair, a wet washer on my forehead, my feet up & on top of a
pillow, a nurse stroking my hair & another putting my on an obs machine. My
blood pressure & heart rate were through the floor but began to climb as
time went on. On nurse sprayed some peppermint oil under my nose which worked
wonders for clearing my head. Jake arrived & Charli was wide awake, her
little face a mask of horror at the scene before her. I put on my best show –
explaining that I had felt a bit sick but the nurses made me all better & I
was okay now. I smiled & laughed & tried my very hardest not to bring
up my sandwich from earlier. She was fine as soon as the nurses starting
talking to her & she had to act shy…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The nurse
that had been trying to explain post-procedure care to me took Jake away &
gave him the run down. They believed that a big day with minimal liquid intake
along with a sudden bought of anxiety was what made me faint & once my obs
were sitting steady they were happy to let me go; over an hour later than I
should have but at least I felt better.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The rest of
the night was a blur of anxiety & feeling simply icky. Jake asked if I
would like a relaxant & I said no – I was paranoid one of me sites would open
overnight & I wouldn’t notice from the drugs. I slept anyway, my body
simply exhausted. Knowing how upset & paranoid I was Jake set an alarm
& check both my groin & wrist every couple of hours. What a bloke. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
It’s now
Thursday night, over 48 hours later & with a reduced waiting time for
surgery that could be sprung on me at any moment, mixed with still feeling icky
around both my groin & wrist, I’m feeling pretty shabby. The anxiety has
become less of a thing that crops up & more of a consistent, nagging,
debilitating leech that I cannot seem to shake. I’ve done nothing but sleep,
eat & take relaxants for the past 2 days & I hope these are just the
after effects of an information overload & crappy hospital experience. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Thanks so
much to everyone who chatted to me on Tuesday; I’ve had people tell me it was
only an angiogram or only a cardiac catheter but it was my first time having
tubes shoved into my heart & lungs & it wasn’t so fun to watch. I’m
hopeful it’ll be the first and last. That is, after a very keen little Indian
man busts open my chest & fiddles with my heart.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
And so the
surgery countdown truly begins <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />Ak2190http://www.blogger.com/profile/18401622704990621411noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5935423435909705083.post-48654310102948026552018-12-20T03:21:00.001-08:002018-12-20T03:21:56.281-08:00Woolworths Meltdowns, Timely Santas & a splash of Divine Intervention<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnk7Cz66Hnid5fM2_eQpehaTlNFHqbXB2QT5AD8DmmG4JSrYbe3m4lTPOfz2jhAAE6Zle-wGULxKMeWFSHEk5WtigPvqy5umBIfbRSpNuXDYS55NyHaUOFPLJzdzR3HTNZBA4Q8cEi6K0/s1600/48384864_2274841742758548_5620053741488046080_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="924" data-original-width="1205" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnk7Cz66Hnid5fM2_eQpehaTlNFHqbXB2QT5AD8DmmG4JSrYbe3m4lTPOfz2jhAAE6Zle-wGULxKMeWFSHEk5WtigPvqy5umBIfbRSpNuXDYS55NyHaUOFPLJzdzR3HTNZBA4Q8cEi6K0/s320/48384864_2274841742758548_5620053741488046080_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today is they day before my 28<sup>th</sup> birthday. It is
the first day of a two and a half week holiday from work. Leading up, my plans
for the day had changed again & again. As of early this morning it had
become a day to get some stuff out of the way to enjoy said break. On the top
of my agenda was the GP. For those of you that have known me long enough, you
will know the extensive issues I have had with breast lumps & menstrual cycles
– basically all things to do with being a woman. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So today, being completely sick of the benign but ever
painful lump that resides on the side of my left breast, that has kept me up a
few nights this week alone due to its size, location & aching; I went to
deal with that shit. I was told at March’s scan that if it continued to grow
& cause me issues they would look into removing it – just as they did in
the same spot almost 3 years ago. Surgery is not an issue for me. Been there,
done that, basically my boobs look like Sally’s from The Nightmare Before Christmas
& I have to fill out those forms before EVERY scan noting where my scars
are & I have to go at that with crosses like there’s no tomorrow. In terms
of the periods – well basically since I’ve had Charli my body has been like – “do
you like PAIN & losing copious amounts of blood each month?” Apparently I
said yes – long term problem being my iron levels & general wellbeing. I
was feeling like crap for the vast majority of my time & have tried many
different avenues to resolve the issue. My current treatment involves hormone
medication & iron infusions. It has helped in some aspects but is certainly
not a long term solution. Thankfully the grander plan is to have a hysterectomy
– I am currently on a wait list & should be called in for the procedure in
the next 12 or so months. Exciting – I think so. Having racked up quite a few
different things at the GP visit; a radiology request, 2 prescriptions, a
pathology request) I also asked if I could have some results from a random
echocardiogram I had recently had sent to the office. I’d had it requested by a
random GP I has seen about a viral flu who told me I had a heart murmur. News
to me. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Eventful GP visit over, Mum, Charli & I made our way to
the local shopping centre. We ran some errands & began our grocery shop. As
ALWAYS, you go in to get 5 things and holy shit you need a bigger trolley. As
such, when I rounded the corner of the frozen food section, heading into the
last leg of the shop – butter, yoghurt, deli & the check out, I was keen.
Get me out of here. My phone rang at this point & I checked to see who was
calling “Mt Warren Park Medical Centre” displayed on my screen and my very
first thought was “Bloody hell, they won’t send my results I’ll have to go back
to the GP near work!” I answered & it was not any of the lovely
receptionists that had called, it was the GP herself. Now I love this GP, hey –
absolutely gets straight to the point. “We’ve received the results from the
echocardiogram & you have an abnormality” My gut didn’t drop, just a slight
flicker on my worry-o-meter. I was like “Ok… am I ok, should I be worried?” By
this time Mum is watching me like a bloody hawk but I’m just casually getting
Jacob’s yoghurt off the shelf. The GP says “No.” slight weight lift, until “Look,
the results show that you have a hole in your heart which means you will need to
see the cardiologist & ultimately you are going to have to have surgery.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, that weight came crashing right back on down & there
went my stomach through the floor. The edge of the yoghurt fridge became my
seat as I needed a moment to gather myself a little. “The GP continues on – “I’ve
made another referral to the cardiologist & you need to take the
appointment when they call you. If you have any questions or need anything you
come in & see me, okay?” I agreed and said thank you as I hung up. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now let’s
take stock here for a tick. It’s 5 days before Christmas, Woolies is bloody
PACKED – anyone who knows Mum knows she is on me like white on rice right now –
“what’s wrong!?” Mum is way up in my personal space & I barely choke out
the basics just as the doctor had said them. It appears Mum is still comprehending
as I try to regain my feet. We kinda just stand there, me silently but very
visibly crying & Mum beginning to ask questions & cry herself. All I
remember saying then was “Mum that’s heart surgery – surgery on my heart.” Like
heart surgery was going to be performed on any other part of my anatomy… I
think anyone who wanted Yoplait Yoghurt at this point just moved right along.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now I’ve started to panic a little & we all know how
that goes so I say to Mum, “I’ve gotta get out of here, let’s just go.” I make my
way past the deli, heavy & numb, still silently bawling. I see the fancy
cheeses & remember I had tried a new one at my work birthday afternoon tea
just yesterday so I try to find it as tears stream down my face. Charli has
clued on that something isn’t quite right “You sad?” “Mummy crying” “You okay
Mummy *nodding*” I’ve picked a cheese but I’m not sure I can make it any
further. Mum says I should ring the doctor & go ask more questions now. I
know that clinic is always super busy & tell her I have Buckley’s of
getting in. As we discuss what to do next, a random lady approaches us. I know
I’m visibly upset & feel hot tears splash down as she says “Excuse me.” I
think she is going to check I am ok but instead she simply hands Charli a gift
bag – inside is a tub of playdough & some chocolates. To Mum & I she
hands a sealed envelope each with a candy cane sticking out & says “Merry
Christmas – there is a coffee voucher in each card – you should go have a
coffee & a relax while she plays with the toy in the bag” If I wasn’t audibly
sobbing before, I was now & if this poor woman wasn’t into hugs, well… I
dove on her & told her this was exactly what I needed right now. She told
me she had been in the same place last week – her friend then ventured over
& hugged me as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a
gorgeous moment, contrast amongst a very scary, confusing & surreal one.
What beautiful humans, to set out to make other people’s day & not knowing
a single thing about me or my day, showing such kindness & generosity. If
anyone knows these beautiful ladies that were playing Santa at the Beenleigh
Marketplace today, please say a massive thank you. They have no idea how much
they lightened a very scary moment for me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Onwards we forged – Mum called the GP & got me in… we
had 20 or so minutes to now get our crying, shell-shocked asses through the
CHRISTMAS BUSY check outs, to the car & back to the GP. No worries mate.
Insert the poor bloke who was in front of me at the check outs. He happened to
turn around & was confronted with a still silently crying me. He awkwardly
smiled & done a very quick about face. Poor bastard was just there for
Christmas Ham.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We made it though - with time to purchase a cold bag from
the Coles next door to the GP because, Oh shit we have cold groceries in the
car on a summer’s day…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The GP was wonderful – taking the time to explain to me what
was on the report & answering all of my questions. Basically, the surgery
is a must. The more time that passes the more stress & damage my heart will
go through until it will eventually expand & I will be in a world of
trouble. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The surgery itself – I have to wait & do more tests to
see how intrusive it will be. It could be as “simple” as a probe going in
through an artery in my leg (sooo not the horror images I had when the words “heart
surgery” had flashed in neon in my brain initially). The tests will also show
if this had been a long term thing (from birth is actually quite common).
Having had Charli & surgery as recently as the past couple of years, I am
amazed & slightly scared that this was never picked up on before. Another
question to ask the cardiologist…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So. Yeah. After shaking off the initial “oh my god” of this
news & speaking with the GP again, I have become quite calm. I am 100%
aware of how lucky I am that this was randomly happened upon before time could
do more damage to my heart. I am also on the lean toward divine intervention.
TWO upcoming surgeries that could have been seriously dangerous in my condition
& I would have gone under none the wiser. I am incredibly lucky. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Knowing I will absolutely shit bricks when it comes time for
the actual surgery, I am taking comfort in the fact that this is vital to my
long term health; that this surgery is common & that medical technology is
so advanced. I am assured that I will be fine. I still have knocking knees.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So peeps, get your GP to have a listen in to your heart
every now and again - The quicker the find, the better the outcome.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />Ak2190http://www.blogger.com/profile/18401622704990621411noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5935423435909705083.post-89918666584607013692017-04-29T05:34:00.000-07:002017-04-29T05:41:01.391-07:00Mess is mine<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9cZ6KDZRGNL_xRv9gs-C76qjb0WG3bKVM57AH1cULvj2BgdR9MUuGymEZ7PIj4PCHT3P1X5NtXhdY-ZwoVxQPJyTkMVCwk41wmBmJZrJIC1ewN22fiiw49tWtTAq8uLT7tN8ob9S3fZg/s1600/IMG_6894+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9cZ6KDZRGNL_xRv9gs-C76qjb0WG3bKVM57AH1cULvj2BgdR9MUuGymEZ7PIj4PCHT3P1X5NtXhdY-ZwoVxQPJyTkMVCwk41wmBmJZrJIC1ewN22fiiw49tWtTAq8uLT7tN8ob9S3fZg/s320/IMG_6894+%25282%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When people talk to me about my Husband I tell them he “goes
alright”. When they find out that he halves the house & baby duties with
me, often times tipping the scale on his side, they are visibly in awe; but I
play that one down too – “So he should! I work just as much as he does.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A fortnight or so ago, someone told me we were “perfect”
& likened us to a fairy tale. I didn’t laugh directly in their face but I
certainly had an internal chuckle. It did get me thinking though.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The first year or so nearly killed us both. We were two
entirely different extremes; Jacob was the easy going good guy who had learnt
to lie his way around tough relationship situations just to keep the peace. I
was the high strung, emotional crazy wench with serious depression & anxiety
issues. So, lies were told, trust issues ensued. Fights were so often sometimes
I wonder if we had a break between them. Words were said, things were done. It
was ugly. There were so many times we both had the mind to walk away. Was it
worth all of this? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And that’s when the fairy tale comes in. There was no evil
witch, no fire-breathing dragon. We were our own villains. But we worked so
unbelievably hard at us. We talked. We cried. We screamed. We went to
therapists. We talked again & again & again. Jake learnt not to lie to
cover up his mistakes. I learnt to let go of things & found a proper
balance to control my anxiety & depression. We slowly but surely overcame
the horrible parts of our tale & suddenly it was clear skies. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We decided to
get married. Then we decided to make a tiny human. Through all of that, I can
assure you, it has not been “perfect”. My Husband still makes big mistakes,
like packing a bag to leave the night we found out we were pregnant… Or calling
me the morning of our wedding to say he wasn’t sure he wanted to get married
that day. I love the timing of his meltdowns. Speaking of meltdowns, mine are
still quite often – more so over spilling formula & not getting all of the
washing done. A “fight” is a big thing for us, almost something to mark on the
calendar they are so rare. We know how to talk to each other & we know how
to help each other. All thanks to that one year of hell.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What set these thoughts to paper was a song. A song I had
heard so many times before but never thought of in any relation to my life –
until now. Not supposed to be a love song but the words ring with so much
meaning, they sound so much like our fairy tale. Relationships are always messy
so find someone to share the mess with.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Mess is Mine’ – Vance Joy<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
Ak2190http://www.blogger.com/profile/18401622704990621411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5935423435909705083.post-65425119755822499922017-01-03T00:44:00.001-08:002021-02-22T16:01:49.656-08:00Resolutions to Last<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvc2OuEjnOUE477-9Tqqz1EexG07XL9dMtBfkR7f3kjYDlzdOqy_hWLrW7M607sR7_HWBtffMRj87zK7T51dksCRqWQWR_wz2ksJSsLnBdyePkQF2JqWn6SJrwY4LMChW79ckwuIV9Uac/s1600/IMG_4777.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvc2OuEjnOUE477-9Tqqz1EexG07XL9dMtBfkR7f3kjYDlzdOqy_hWLrW7M607sR7_HWBtffMRj87zK7T51dksCRqWQWR_wz2ksJSsLnBdyePkQF2JqWn6SJrwY4LMChW79ckwuIV9Uac/s320/IMG_4777.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A few weeks ago Hubby & I were discussing the upcoming
end of the year. Jake believes that New Years Resolutions are silly & that
if people need or want to change things they shouldn’t wait for a new year to
do it but start working on it straight away. He has a point, of course. I on the other hand LOVE the idea of New Years Resolutions.
For me the ticking over to 12:00am - although not ‘celebrated’ (usually pumping
out the z’s well & truly before midnight) - brings hope & excitement. The
first day of the first month of a brand new year sings opportunity to me. A fresh
start. Another round of birthdays, Easter, Christmas & everything in
between. Another 365 days with the knowledge & insight gained from all of
the years past; but as is true every year that ticks over, I will have an extra
12 months of wisdom & ideas to guide me. An entire years worth of failures,
triumphs, heartaches & joys that I did not have at the beginning of any new
year before.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In saying all of this 2017 started in a way that I would
never have deemed appropriate of being exciting, hopeful or happy. I woke up on
the 1<sup>st</sup> of January in a 2-star Motel Room with nothing but Milo for
breakfast & heading to my in-laws for a get together that would last most
of the day. My in-laws aren’t big fans of me, or I them. It was a long day
& came out the other side anxious & itching to be home. The support
& love I am always surrounded with when I feel downtrodden was on the other
end of a 12 hour drive. So instead of waiting until the early hours of the
morning to take off, I asked hubby would he very much mind getting his ass in
the car - right that instant. He didn’t miss a beat. Packing like we would win
a prize if we were faster, we hit the road north at 4:30pm Queensland time. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Through the hours of driving in the rainy darkness I had so
much time to think. Between stopping to change shitty nappies & refuel
(ourselves & the car) it occurred to me that I still hadn’t made any
promises to myself for the year ahead. I contemplated. Lose weight – obviously.
Get ahead financially – another obvious one. I went through a few until it occurred
to me that each New Years we make resolutions to force ourselves to do the
things we hate or that are hard to do. Diet. Exercise. Saving. For me, all of
these things come & go. Sometimes we spend our way through the months
& other times it’s 2-minute noodles for tea & no new razors. Some days
I do all things health & fitness. Other days I eat copious amounts of carbs
& sugar & nestle myself into the couch so good I need a hand getting
up. So no, this year I couldn’t bring myself to decide I wasn’t allowed to eat
badly or splurge on the next Lego sale. I knew none of that shit would stick, it
never does. I will happily ebb & flow on these.<span style="background-color: yellow; background: yellow; mso-highlight: yellow;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then I wondered what actually made my happy. So many things;
good books and movies, bubble baths & tattoos, good music & dancing, gardening
& baking, taking photos & writing. Little tiny day to day things.
Things I have not let into my life quite enough because I have spent so much
time deciding to be pro weight-loss & financial gain. I decided to make
sure I filled my days with all of these little joys. I also realised that what
made me that absolute happiest was my people. My family & friends. Not just
them though. Yeah, they go alright, I love them to absolute bits & they of
course light up my life but what really makes me swell with excitement, joy
& contentment is seeing them happy. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And so my Twenty Seventeen truly begins – and the decision
to make myself & everyone in my life as happy as possible. To simply enjoy.
I think this one might stick & might be the resolution that lives on into
each year.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Happy New Year to all. I hope your days & months fill
with everything you hope for to make an amazing year.<o:p></o:p></div>
Ak2190http://www.blogger.com/profile/18401622704990621411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5935423435909705083.post-18586007978060763402016-04-14T05:59:00.000-07:002016-04-14T05:59:03.938-07:00Golf Balls & a PossumToday I noticed that we had put away more savings than we had planned - a nice surprise with baby not too far away & several appliances that could finally die at any given moment. To celebrate, I asked my Husband if he wanted to do a short-notice date night. It's not a regular thing for us, so Jake was stoked. We both looked forward to it all day & planned to walk the dogs, go out for a nice meal & then see where the wind blew us.<br />
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Stress strikes me down most days. I have small panic attacks, work through them as usual & move on. Mostly, I've learnt to deal. Mostly is the operative word. Sometimes things overwhelm and stump me for what can be hours & sometimes days. So when I got home & seen the golf balls, I may have had a slight meltdown.<br />
<br />
Our neighbours over the back, you see - are (for lack of being able to filter my absolute rage for these people) a bunch of assheads. From the parents all the way down to the screaming toddler. We have had some serious issues with them that called for police coming to the house and a security camera being bought for the back yard. With the knowledge that we were going out, I turned said security camera on and happily chatting to the dogs, went about checking it was all in position. Well it was, with about six golf balls hanging in our anti-dog-escape fencing directly above it. Of course, paranoia kicked right in - "They've been trying to knock the camera down with golf balls so they can climb over and hurt the dogs or break in!!" I felt sick to the core. I put the dogs inside and went directly to our next door neighbour to ask it maybe their kids had been playing with the balls and put them there. She knew nothing of it and had pretty much the same reaction as me "Those bastards!"<br />
That was the end to date night. I was not leaving the house or my dogs with the knowledge that these people were actively trying to knock the camera down.<br />
<br />
Jake came home & I pointed to the balls, I had by then brought inside. He excitedly said "Golf Balls!" with a lopsided goofy grin that I could have decked him for. How could he not be concerned about where they came from & why I was obviously upset!? "I collected them when I took the dogs walking on the golf course." That was his next cheerful little sentence. I actually buckled with relief, causing a flood of "are you ok's" & many apologies after I explained what had been the obvious scenario in my mind. We laughed it off, took the dogs for a walk & got ready to hit up one of our favourite restaurants.<br />
<br />
Our night was fun & relaxing. There was Mexican food, discussions about what to ask at prospective day-cares for Charli & then 3 rounds of horrendous bowling (mostly on my part). We headed on home with take away dessert - another of our favourites; Gooey Caramel Cheesecake. Music up loud & keen for pyjamas, we roared onto the highway in my beastly little Yaris, Betty... and there it was, the next source of destruction for my fragile little anti-stress bubble. A Possum. Too late to brake in time and going too fast to swerve on the wet road, with cars coming up behind me & cars on the highway next to me. I had nowhere to go - I tried to judge my car placement on the road to get over the top of the cute little critter. I got his tail. I checked the rear vision mirror to see that he was fine & that another thoughtful human was trying to do the same & managed to swerve over little possum as well. Beyond that though, I don't know of little possums fate.<br />
<br />
I immediately clapped a hand over my mouth, the overwhelming nausea set in super quick. Breathing through my nose to try and quell my stirred up Mexican dinner reappearing, I only got half way home before I couldn't hold it down anymore. I managed to get off the road & the door half open before I spewed all over the door frame - then again in the gutter before my dear husband took the keys and got us the rest of the way home. He also cleaned the car spew and let me sob a little about my little possum buddy and what part I might have played in scaring or hurting him. He also got me a spoon & my slice of cheesecake & sat with me while I then pondered if I was okay enough to remove myself from the couch.<br />
<br />
I realised tonight at some hazy point during delicious dessert and salty tears that as much as I freaked out, I never wanted to forget. I don't want to forget the hilarity of my short-lived golf ball obsession. I don't want to forget my Husband showing me his daily route to walk the dogs & which houses have dogs that bark & where Nelson & Maggie both always stop to wee. I don't want to forget the high-five & little excitement I got when we decided that we would read the BFG to Charli, even though she is still growing in my belly. I don't want to forget sore fingers from bowling balls and the surprise of getting a strike among all of the gutter-balls. I especially never wanted to forget my Husband, reassuring me with pats on the leg & stories about how fast and smart possums are, cleaning the spew out of my car without even a question or being asked to & taking the next small step for me when I am stuck whimpering on the lounge.<br />
<br />
Because its all of the thousands of days like these that will end up being my life & really, whats not to love about that.Ak2190http://www.blogger.com/profile/18401622704990621411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5935423435909705083.post-8706209448698323322014-02-18T04:39:00.000-08:002019-02-14T19:38:52.283-08:00Breaking all the rules...<div style="text-align: center;">
Online dating is something I'd refused to dapple in. Ever. It was a personal rule in my life. I broke this rule after some pressure from outside influences, finally giving in late last year & signing up to a few sites. eHarmony was the only one that lasted more than a week. I signed up for 3 months & made myself a few rules to get me through what I envisaged to be a horrible experience.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
One of these rules was that I would not, under any circumstances, respond to an 'icebreaker'. (Basically the same as hitting a 'like' button) If someone was interested enough in me they would talk to me, asking & answering questions, even if prompted from the system.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I held fast to this rule, checking out the profiles of the guys who had sent them & rolling my eyes.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Then, suddenly, this one guy.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I seen the 'icebreaker' notification, sighed, and checked his profile. I read it, and re-read it. I looked through the photos more than once, and then, an internal battle raged. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I had made a rule, dammit. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Who was this guy, to come up on my screen & not allow me simply ignore his existence? </div>
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I broke my rule.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Now, I'm not overly Facebook savvy. I post a lot, like & comment on things I see, but stalking is just not my forte. It is also not something I like to do. Another little rule.</div>
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How else though, to get to know someone who lives a touch under 1000kms away? </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Talking was fantastic, but he could say & act however he pleased & I would know no different.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Seeing how he interacted with family & friends on a public forum was what I was after.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Facebook stalker extraordinaire I became. Another rule down the drain.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
It was the 4th of January when Jacob asked me if I would like him to fly up & take me out to dinner at some point. Naturally, when I seen the message I was completely out of range. It only took me less than 10 minutes to get close enough to my sister's wi-fi to respond, but I can assure you, it was a very long 10 minutes.<br />
<br /></div>
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There was absolutely no hesitation for me to say yes.</div>
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<br /></div>
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As things turned out, Jacob couldn't make it up here until mid to late March. After a couple of phone calls & daily conversations, my impatience & excitement got the better of me. I booked a flight to Sydney for the weekend.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
All week I could barely think of anything else except the upcoming meeting of this man that I had been talking to constantly for what seemed like forever. He made me laugh, shared in my boring day-to-day life & didn't question when I was being a complete dork. In fact, he got it. There was also no judgement when he called me for the first time ever & I continuously slurped on ice-cream & Milo throughout the entire conversation.</div>
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<br /></div>
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The day before I flew out (Valentine's Day), I spent nervously shopping for something nice to wear, getting my hair cut & barely eating a thing thanks to the wonderful nerves coursing through my body. I was entirely convinced I would walk off that plane & be a disappointment. Post retail therapy, I came home to a long-stem rose & a card with the message "Hey Gorgeous" and nothing else. Now my confusion here was that it could only have come from Jacob, he says those exact words to me. A lot. But I had never once given him my address.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Insert sneaky best friend who had asked me for my address earlier that week for "contact details" on a form.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The effort to find out my address, send a rose & note for me to receive on Valentines Day pretty much blew my mind. It also abated all of my fears...</div>
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Mostly.</div>
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<br /></div>
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So last Saturday I got on a plane, on my own, for the very first time in my life.</div>
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I avoid getting onto any sort of aircraft as much as possible, only swallowing my fear of flying to take my Mum various places. There was no rule as such that I would never fly alone... It was simply something that I would never do unless absolutely necessary, because lets face it, I lose my mind. Flying makes me panic. My anxiety attack is not pretty. I cry silently, I clutch at the hand rests every time the plane so much as rattles. I honestly fear that I will not make it to the other side. Not due to the plane crashing, but simply because the gaping hole in my chest feels as though it will be the end of me.</div>
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I managed to put one foot in front of the other & board my flight, hoping & praying I would sit next to someone who I could talk to as a distraction. I sat next to 2 gorgeous young girls from Germany who struggled with their English. Of course.</div>
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I also made it to the Sydney airport, hitting the tarmac with so much relief I could feel it in every tip of my body. Disembarking though, only brought with it an entirely different anxiety.</div>
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What if this was entirely awkward...</div>
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<br /></div>
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The second I walked into baggage claim, to see Jacob stand up & come towards me, instant excitement, familiarity & a complete sense of warmth took over everything else. He also had a block of chocolate I had jokingly claimed I would need after enduring a flight... that wasn't including the other 2 blocks waiting in the car, either.</div>
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I spent an amazing weekend, talking, sharing, laughing & being doted on. Even the odd moments of silence were comfortable & relaxing. I discovered a whole lot more about Jacob, setting my feelings even more alight. It was almost a silly question to ask, 'where to from here?'<br />
We have something very special to pursue.<br />
<br /></div>
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I remember my Mum once telling me it was not just about how I may feel about someone, it was about how they made me feel about myself.</div>
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<br />
Now I understand.</div>
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Ak2190http://www.blogger.com/profile/18401622704990621411noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5935423435909705083.post-33315924108453200952013-12-31T01:56:00.002-08:002021-02-22T15:54:37.242-08:00I get to LiveMy last post was in July. It's now the tippy-tail end of December... When did that happen!?<br />
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<div>
I suppose, in the smudge of my life that has been the past 5 months, I have been a little too busy to have given my blog a thought... I've moved house (again, I know), adopted a beautiful pain-in-the-ass puppy who I love death, taken on & tried a whole new range of things & had a smaller but still hugely intense breakdown.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Almost this time last year, I wrote a <a href="http://lifebyink.blogspot.com.au/2012/12/when-life-gives-you-lemons.html" target="_blank">blog</a>. It was inspired by the fact that I simply made it through 2012 & in doing so, I had hope that 2013 would be different for me.<br />
It was & it wasn't - I was sometimes swimming in Lemonade & other times puckering on the sour, seemingly endless taste of pure Lemon...<br />
<br />
With all that I have learnt in the past 12 months (that seems more like an entire decade) I can simply say this - 2014 is mine.<br />
<br />
There are a whole lot of things that happen every day, every month, every year that will get me down, and sometimes crush every desire I have to simply keep going.<br />
I'm certainly not immune to them - just this past Christmas Day I had a wonderful little anxiety attack, no trigger that I could recall, I just couldn't stop moving my hands & felt constantly uncomfortable.<br />
I went to take a relaxant and found I had none in my bag - then the REAL panic started. What if it didn't stop?<br />
Big sister to the rescue with some natural herbal drops that done all that I needed them to do - took the edge off so I could focus.<br />
<br />
So I'm sure you're thinking it: This late in the game & I'm having panic attacks over seemingly nothing, yet I'm optimistic about the New Year that is now only hours upon us?<br />
<br />
Hell Yes.<br />
<br />
So what's different?<br />
<br />
It has taken me almost 5 years to come to full terms with my depression & anxiety... but now that I know it's there & know how to control it (mostly), I have more strength & determination than I could ever have hoped for.<br />
<br />
I'm going to slip back. A new number on a year won't change that, but the me that has gotten through the 2012 from the depths of hell, to a not much better 2013, has a new coat of armor, ready to take whatever 2014 has to throw at me.<br />
<br />
At the moment it is already shaping up to be a better year & a start to something <i>really</i> new & fresh. Something I haven't had for the start of a New Year before.<br />
<br />
Hence this post - I am <i>happy</i>. Plus... I have a few very special things to look forward to:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Unless my sister has an extremely quick & easy labour in the next 4 hours - I will become an Aunt to my 6th beautiful little niece within the next week.</li>
<li>I will see my first overseas plane trip, finally see snow & get to spend that special experience with my Mum.</li>
</ul>
Among these very special life events, I will do much much more. I will drive with the windows down. Sing at the top of my lungs. Get sandy feet at the beach. Lose myself in a new book. I'll smell the fresh cut of the grass when I mow the lawn. I will go out with my friends, confide in & listen to everything they have to say. I'll watch Nelson, my favourite furchild, wag his tail madly when I get home from work. I will watch my other 5 nieces, 6 nephews & 1 step-nephew grow & change. I will get to see my sisters & brothers, talk to them, laugh with them, cry with them. I will get to enjoy & spoil my Mum as much as I can. I will get to live every day of my life as best as I can. I am truly blessed.<br />
<br />
To all of my family & friends. I love you more than I can put into words. I hope the new year brings you all everything you wish for. I hope that you can make it yours & live every single day just as you want.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Happy New Year</div>
<br /></div>
Ak2190http://www.blogger.com/profile/18401622704990621411noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5935423435909705083.post-42591900040011839402013-07-08T06:48:00.002-07:002013-07-08T06:48:56.826-07:00Sometimes it's as simple as Milo Cookies... I was depressed today. I'm not gonna sugar coat it. I've been in & out of depression going on 4 years now. Extreme highs & dangerous lows with constant anxiety nipping at my heels.<br />
<br />
This is okay. I don't blog to relieve my problems, I blog when I am inspired. So please, read on.<br />
<br />
I just spent a lovely weekend in Pottsville, seeing my nieces, nephews, pregnant sister & newest brother-in-law. Their amazing beach house was filled with big belly laughs, constant chatter & a feeling of life.<br />
On the way there it was freeing to be driving with the windows down, singing at the top of my lungs (partly to drown out the horrific crackle of my very worn-out speakers).<br />
Walking along the beach, greeting passers by & feeling pure happiness just watching the other beach-goers enjoy some simple pleasures - horse-riding, fishing, playing fetch with their dogs. I could have spent eternity on that beach.<br />
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It wasn't until I got home, exhausted & sunburt, I crashed out on my couch. Waking up from a dreamless sleep I found my self in the dark, alone with anxiety creeping through the cracks. It's not the first time & I'm sure it won't be the last. I made myself hot drinks, chatted to my friends & got through until I found sleep again.<br />
<br />
Suddenly, it was time to get ready for work. But this time my sleep hadn't been without dreams & they were not pleasant.<br />
My dreams have always been pretty intense, keeping me awake through the night for months at a time. They increase my anxiety on a regular basis but since getting my new dream-catcher I haven't been having any issues at all. Whether our old friends the Indians were onto something or simply by the power of my mind, it had worked for a while. Not today. The dreams had me overcome with panic.<br />
Waking up & remembering a dream is one thing, waking up amid one already lost in tears & fear is another.<br />
<br />
My panicked crying is a pretty shoddy sight to be had, I'm sure. I can barely breathe, there is no control or level of dignity. I tried to shake it off, get up & move on. No dice. Shamefully I didn't have the willpower or the care. I gave up. I stayed that way until 11:30 in the morning. It took me all those hours to find a way out of bed. I numbly went about doing housework, trying to make some use of myself, hoping I'd feel better.<br />
A load of washing. A load of dishes. Couch. More tears, more fear, complete helplessness. I talked to a friend. I felt no better. Into a hot shower with a bottle of wine I went.<br />
<br />
It's hard to admit that I gave in. I never want to feel the low. It's unimaginably horrible. But after all these years I know I am the only one who can fight back. No matter how much support, no matter how many times I fall, I am the only one who can truly help myself. All of you out there who know it will understand. Depression is not something we choose. It's certainly not something we want to feel. It's suffocating, all consuming & sometimes although we fight, it wins us over for a time.<br />
<br />
Today it won.<br />
Tonight it will not.<br />
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With nothing but a chuppa-chup & half a cup of warm Milo in my belly all day, I knew the depression was starting to slip away when I suddenly felt hungry. Problem: I have just about nothing to eat in my house at the moment. No milk, bread or eggs... no, you know, food. The nearest food was at the servo. Sorry, I refuse to pay triple the price for grocery items nor go out in to the cold for them.<br />
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Digging time. Butter. Flour. Sugar... Milo: Inspiration.<br />
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I don't measure when I cook anymore. I'm a 'roundabout that much' kinda lass. Consistency & taste tests are the best. So sorry guys, no recipe for this.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxoaxTfNhguczhJr6HqVAb0fLuLyaOLPVYXVIAOnABPM8sGCP5OyOitGhZPW2I2j_X5NkxCxoCZr1Q3ujoj77sGV2QvgkDGqkJ-X4maryoKimejqHeaFmtMO3YFeCM7fE2xfHOTmQiWnc/s1600/image.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxoaxTfNhguczhJr6HqVAb0fLuLyaOLPVYXVIAOnABPM8sGCP5OyOitGhZPW2I2j_X5NkxCxoCZr1Q3ujoj77sGV2QvgkDGqkJ-X4maryoKimejqHeaFmtMO3YFeCM7fE2xfHOTmQiWnc/s640/image.jpeg" width="640" /></a>And here you have them... Milo Cookies. My most yummy spur-of-the-moment creation yet.<br />
One of the smallest things to happen in my day yet the biggest combatant of my disabling depression.<br />
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So hold on all of you out there who feel it too. You're not alone & you're certainly not doing anything wrong. When it gets too much, the answer can be something as simple as Milo Cookies...<br />
<br />Ak2190http://www.blogger.com/profile/18401622704990621411noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5935423435909705083.post-15995133206473826842012-12-31T05:26:00.005-08:002021-02-22T15:51:44.638-08:00When Life Gives You Lemons...<br />
It's been a tough, crazy & also wonderful year, but not just for myself. I have spoken to many people in the past couple of months who share the same view on 2012. It was a monster. Bring on 2013.<br />
<br />
ALTHOUGH:<br />
It's amazing how much of the way we choose to see things can change our levels of happiness & motivation in an instant. Personally, looking at my 2012 & concentrating on the life-changing events, bar a couple, I have honestly had quite an awful year. It also occurs to me though, that these events have now shaped my life into the most magnificent & opportunistic playground, that without those misfortunes, mistakes & the utter messiness - I wouldn't be where I am right now.<br />
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It's currently 15 minutes to midnight as I write this & I could not thank 2012 enough for the heartache, the whirlwind or the unease it has seen me endure, because I have done exactly that - endured. I am strong, enlightened & motivated. I have decided to follow a simple principle in 2013 that I believe you can only truly appreciate when you have been the lowest of low & know that the only person that can make it better, is you:<br />
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So I hope that like me, you can do the same. Be strong, look forward & make life what you want it to be. What a precious gift we have been given. Happy New Year.<br />
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Ak2190http://www.blogger.com/profile/18401622704990621411noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5935423435909705083.post-74389449815100848002012-10-30T21:28:00.002-07:002021-02-22T15:50:18.947-08:00Making a Cuppa<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Last weekend, after a big</span><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span><a href="x-apple-data-detectors://0" x-apple-data-detectors-result="0" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors="true">Saturday night</a><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> of partying, I couldn't sleep. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">So, just before </span><a href="x-apple-data-detectors://1" x-apple-data-detectors-result="1" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors="true">5am</a><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">, I took off for home, prepared to put my insomnia to use & get the housework, etc done.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">On the way though, I thought of Mum. I hadn't seen her for a few days (unusual for us) so I decided to call & see if she felt like an early morning cuppa. I woke her up. She loved it. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">10 minutes later I came barreling into my childhood home, noisy & full of energy on a <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://2" x-apple-data-detectors-result="2" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors="true">Sunday morning</a>. My Step-Dad, Bob, loved it too. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I made the early morning disturbance up to them by grabbing the morning paper on my way in. Hehe.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I lived in this house from birth until I was almost 19. It will always be home. I always feel like I can go there, I know where everything is & still have the mindless habit of checking the pantry or fridge for something to munch on - though, since I've left, there is no longer anything I would ever eat.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I went about making Mum, Bob & I a cuppa while they dragged themselves out of bed. Growing up, I would make my breakfast cup of tea with the sun coming through the kitchen blinds, listening to the birds chirp while surrounded by the smell of the morning -always fresh & relaxing at Mum's. It had been a long time since I had done this! Nostalgia set in... I was overcome with the urge to cry. This was, at one point in my life, complete happiness & contentment. I was suddenly 12, gearing up for a chapter of Harry Potter & Vegimite Toast before school time.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">The moment seemed to go as quickly as it came... Leaving such a light, happy feeling in it's wake. For something that had happened in a matter of seconds, it made a lasting impression in my mind & spirit.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">There was a sense of wholeness & rightness to doing this very simple task, in this place, at this time of day.</span></div></div></div><div>
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Ak2190http://www.blogger.com/profile/18401622704990621411noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5935423435909705083.post-50050222582635694722012-09-14T18:48:00.001-07:002021-02-22T15:47:57.642-08:00Some time in Moura...<br />
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In my bulk of time off, I knew I wanted to fit in driving out & visiting my cousin, Chris, in <a href="http://www.australianexplorer.com/maps/moura.htm" target="_blank">Moura.</a></div>
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So, with a new stereo installed in Betty, a 3am start & one kick-ass "Road-Trip Care Package" from my beautiful sister... I was off. </div>
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7 & a half hours, 620km, one speeding fine & a spectacular sunrise later, I was there - guzzling down some much needed coffee & while Chris was at work, meeting up with his wife, Jo & their baby boy, Ken. </div>
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Over the next 4 days I spent my time enjoying Moura life - taking a trip to the one & only shop in town to stock up on nibblies & reading material while enjoying the absolute quiet that came with the middle-of-nowhere spot.</div>
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Most nights we had dinner out the back. It was extremely relaxing to have a few drinks, fill our stomachs & chat by the warmth & light of the fire.</div>
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I also went out in the truck with my Uncle Gary & stopped at the quarry Chris manages to have a look & take in a bit of their every-day. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the truck</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Quarry</td></tr>
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At the moment, my younger cousin, Jake, is staying up in Moura too, so I got to annoy him a bit...</div>
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My last night there called for dinner at the Bowls Club. A buffet dinner, a few rounds of pool & complete control of the Juke Box made for a very enjoyable night. </div>
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It was a fun trip, so nice to see family, meet new people & experience some new things... with a total of 15 hours on the road, where my car became my personal opera hall & Ice Break bottles piled up on the floor... It was very much my cup of tea & I'll be doing it again as soon as I can.</div>
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Ak2190http://www.blogger.com/profile/18401622704990621411noreply@blogger.com0Moura QLD 4718, Australia-24.5716525 149.96858240000006-24.802843 149.64585890000006 -24.340462 150.29130590000005tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5935423435909705083.post-44721114066748966422012-08-27T19:09:00.003-07:002021-02-22T15:46:30.272-08:00Exploring<div style="text-align: center;">
I went exploring this past weekend. Just out the backyard of a friends place for a little less than an hour but it was fantastic!<br />
I felt like a kid again, peeking around doors & corners before venturing onward. A little spark of excitement each time I came across something that peaked my interest. Jumping any time something tickled my skin that felt like a possible creepy crawly; giggling at myself when it was a simple weed.</div>
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These are a few of the discoveries that made me smile... </div>
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I also made a few friends in the paddock...</div>
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I've made a promise to myself that I will explore more often in places I wouldn't normally think to. It's liberating, exciting & relaxing. Also a great opportunity to get some awesome snaps.</div><div style="text-align: center;">
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Ak2190http://www.blogger.com/profile/18401622704990621411noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5935423435909705083.post-14744415715045577232012-08-21T07:38:00.001-07:002021-02-22T15:48:29.607-08:00Falling in love again...<div style="text-align: center;">
With three months off work to do whatever I like, I am getting back in touch with things that I haven't done in a while...</div>
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Falling in love again with all of the things that I have always enjoyed is amazing... </div>
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<u><b>Photography</b></u><br />
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Capturing these beautiful moments makes me so happy... I take on average 600-1000 photos at any given event & love to come home, transfer all my files to the computer & edit all of my favourites, adding them to Facebook for eagerly awaiting family members...</div>
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I have recently entered some old favourites from the last few years into the <a href="http://www.shutterbug.net.au/about.php" target="_blank">Shutterbug Competition</a>, not with any desire to win but the excitement of sharing my work with other people like me! More branching out to come in this area... Still-life & landscapes are catching my eye more & more.</div>
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<u><b>Reading</b></u><br />
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Finally, I can sit down again & get lost in a book, from my old <a href="http://www.harlancoben.com/novels/miracle-cure/" target="_blank">Harlan Coben</a> favourites to new fads like <a href="http://www.thehungergames.co.uk/" target="_blank">The Hunger Games</a>. So nice to be curled up on the couch getting familiar with characters & places I love to escape with. Or in a coffee shop surrounded by a buzz of people that suddenly becomes a dull drone in the background as the story takes my whole attention... Bliss.</div>
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<u><b>People</b></u><br />
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The most precious & best part of my every day... the people in it. Family, friends & even strangers. I have taken to my old ways: creating & attending all events possible!<br />
Recently I hosted a Morning Tea at my house for all of the wonderful ladies in my life... There was plenty of food & laughs to be had! </div>
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Road tripping to see cousins in my time off is going to be a blast (especially with the new CD player in my car) & the simple pleasure I get out of saying hello to the employees at my regular shopping/take-out & appointment places makes every day a little brighter.</div>
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With all of this renewed love in my life, I am looking forward to getting back to work in October & starting fresh with a whole bunch of new activities, people & motivation.</div>
Ak2190http://www.blogger.com/profile/18401622704990621411noreply@blogger.com3