Sunday, 13 December 2009

I am Dreadful with Acronyms de Jour

It was only a year or so ago that I discovered that GSOH didn't mean 'good standard of hygiene', and tonight I've just discovered that MILF apparently doesn't stand for 'mother-in-law-fantasy'.

Right, back to normality. How are we doing? What are we doing?

Kate: all manner of weirdness. Beta-blockers made her get the full Mount Everest without oxygen experience. Or being 90 with emphasemia (sp? can't be arsed). Since her heart was slow, the gp said they'd probably be a bad idea. Not that the consultant god from Stalag camp headquarters 15 gave a toss. Anyway, after two days the gp told her to stop them. So - doctor table tennis anyone? you can be the ball!!! Anyway, as she was reassuringly told - if they were worried, you'd be in a bed being monitored, so let's hope it's all par for the course and common and safe. They don't know why these things happen out of the blue. The old internet suggests very minor strokes can do it. But just bad luck from the sound of it. Anyway, looking on the bright side, she's doing ok, and does better the more feisty she is, which is good!

Me? My head has been trying to go walkabout quite often, but I've been being extra ruthless. It is interesting. When it is something selfless that demands your being-there, I can turn one side of the screaming bastards against the other. It's not simple force of will - it's co-opting your zoominess to fight being zoomy. How the hell does it work I don't know but it is working, and not too many whisky nightcaps are involved. (Not like some of the bad (or good) times). I've been being judicious. Hic. And as for the sciatica - doctor doesn't think I'll comply with treatment - either it's surgery or steroid injections into the spine. I told him I'd have to be in a wheelchair before I let the sawdoctors into my spine, but I'd be open to the idea of the injections. I don't think he believed me. You can't win with these chumps.

I know lots of you are going through hard times at the moment. So I'm sending my love. If I won the lottery (fat chance, I don't do it) - I'd establish a charitable refuge for you all. But since that isn't likely, you can always phone me up.

Ok enough for now. Take care all Dx


edit - can't let that pass. All that crap about pitching myself against myself. The one bloody time I got caught was when I couldn't.

So therefore I'm sane, because I'm not losing it. Except I'm mad, because I once lost it. A pox on all of it! We'll battle through, and we'll bloody well win.

2 comments:

karenintheory said...

Yes we will win, because losing is not an option. Just one question, how do we know when we've won?

Hope everything else picks up sharpish.

Love and hugs, Karen xx

David said...

Thanks Karen. How do we know if we've won? Maybe at the end if we're as old and hoary as we'll ever get.

As for the bloody heart attacks - my nerves are starting to frazzle. I was very close to screaming down the 999 line tonight.

I don't know how many of you have been at a birth - but these 'things' are like a very strong contraction, except not the womb, but the heart. K vanishes into herself - can't hear - can't speak. If we'd never had had children the ambulance service would be getting extremely fucking bored with our house.

However, we are soldiering on in the place which is: "You keep having apparent heart attacks which go away after 5 - 15 minutes - ......" So what? What Doctor what?!! Shall I wait til she's unconscious for half an hour next time? FFS!

(Thanks again Karen)