THE GOOD, THE BAD AND THE DOWNRIGHT UGLY.
Well, two and a half weeks later.........
THE GOOD
I have worn knickers! Only a couple of times.....they still hurt, and I have had to resort to cutting some of them in shreds, but yes, I am sometimes decent. On the other hand, thank goodness for glorious weather and long flowing dresses! It makes going commando easier to manage.
I get up, and normally stay up all day! I can even stay up until the 10.00pm news is over. I occasionally resort to a nap in the day, but not often.
I have done some Pilates! Sounds impressive, I lie on the floor and my lovely Trainer stretches my legs. At least I could get up and down off the floor.
I have been out! I went across the island - all of 20 mins drive, for a massage. I think it is the first time she has seen a client with shredded knickers, but she is broadminded. The massage was wonderful, and eased a lot of muscle spasm.
I have been invited to join a trip to Ireland in September. I've never really been to Ireland other than a day trip to Larne hundreds of years ago. Something to look forward to.
I have had my hair cut! Mr B drove me into town and dropped me off. It made me feel so much better. My hair was too long and difficult to look after ~ at least I've still got plenty!
I have nearly healed! New skin has grown all over the raw bits, apart from a little bit the size of a ten pence piece.
The District Nurses now come only twice a week! They were coming every day, and I would never know when to expect them. They took a photo when I had my first visit. Can you imagine? They now compare with that and say it looks like a different bum. Such joy in hearing those magic words! They don't let me look at the photo, it is the stuff nightmares are made of.
I attended my twin grandsons' school concert. I was so pleased to be able to get there, and even dressed up & put some make up on. The boys were great on guitar and drums, I felt so proud of them. they are two talented little guys. On the way home we called at our Local, and I had a glass of wine. I felt normal - well, as normal as I'll ever be with only half a body that works.
One of our ships Lord Nelson came to Jersey. I wasn't well enough to go down to the harbour to see her, but two of the crew came to see me. It was lovely to see them, and I was sad I was unable to join them on their voyage to Southampton to meet the sister ship, Tenacious, on her return home from Australia. How sad I feel to have missed my voyage from Cape Town to Antigua. I do wonder if I will ever be well enough to sail again.
Sunshine and Wimbledon. Strawberries and cream. ( no champagne yet...) Beautiful garden. Beautiful home. Some really good friends who keep up the support, visit and send lovely messages.. Wonderful, caring family. Rescued Thai boys. England's excellent performance in the World Cup - not that I generally support them, or football in general. I am Welsh, but they did themselves proud, as did their Manager.
So really lots of goods!
THE BAD AND THE DOWNRIGHT UGLY.
Feel bad telling my amazing 94yr old mum, every night, that I have had a cyst in my bottom and they have had to laser it out. I daren't mention the C word. We have exactly the same conversation. " Well what is it exactly that you've had?" "Why?" "How long will it take to get better?" "Did you catch it from a toilet seat?" I love her dearly, and wish I lived nearer so I could visit her. As you may guess, her short term memory has gone. If I told her it was cancer, she would panic and then forget by the next day.....
A really ill, dear friend who is struggling. I feel guilty as I will hopefully recover, and she knows she won't. I think of her often. F...ing cancer.
To be truthful, knickers still hurt. I can't wear trousers unless they are really baggy, but you really need to wear knickers, even with them.
The cards and flowers have dwindled, the friends' visits lessened, does that go in the good or the bad?The good I suppose. it must mean I am getting better.
Now the downright ugly.
I am having a truly shitty time.
The year after my stroke, we went to Canada to see my dearly loved aunt. One day when we had called at a Tim Hortons (superb coffee/bakery bar) I went to the "bathroom" as they say, as I walked out, a little guy looked at me and proclaimed loudly " Holy Cow, you've been in the shit!!"
Well it did describe me then, but not literally. It does describe me now, literally. I don't wish to be so basic, but it is basic, it is undignified, it is embarrassing, demoralising etc.etc. I loathe it. The last two mornings, feeling fine, until after breakfast. I don't even get the full message to the already damaged brain. It happens. Fortunately I have been in the tiled bathroom. I did think of my mum's carpeted bathroom at the time....... Say it as you will, big jobs, number two, poo, crap, shit everywhere. This morning I hit the floor, a wide area, somehow managed my shoes AND my bare feet, both legs and all over the toilet. I loathe it. I was thinking this was the most horrid part of the treatment, of course having forgotten the pain in doing it only 3 weeks ago. Mr Bloke comes to the fore. I heave on the sight and smell of any poo, including my own. He can "do" poo, I can "do" sick. I cleaned up his, he cleans up mine. No wonder we've always been the perfect match! I am frightened to go out. What if it happens in a public place? I have no control. My nurse tells me that this is to be expected after the treatment, and it settles with most people. I don't like that word most. I seldom fit into the 'most' bracket regarding health!
So I suppose more goods than bad. Fingers crossed for the shitty business. (should I say buttocks clenched?)
The good.
THE GOOD
I have worn knickers! Only a couple of times.....they still hurt, and I have had to resort to cutting some of them in shreds, but yes, I am sometimes decent. On the other hand, thank goodness for glorious weather and long flowing dresses! It makes going commando easier to manage.
I get up, and normally stay up all day! I can even stay up until the 10.00pm news is over. I occasionally resort to a nap in the day, but not often.
I have done some Pilates! Sounds impressive, I lie on the floor and my lovely Trainer stretches my legs. At least I could get up and down off the floor.
I have been out! I went across the island - all of 20 mins drive, for a massage. I think it is the first time she has seen a client with shredded knickers, but she is broadminded. The massage was wonderful, and eased a lot of muscle spasm.
I have been invited to join a trip to Ireland in September. I've never really been to Ireland other than a day trip to Larne hundreds of years ago. Something to look forward to.
I have had my hair cut! Mr B drove me into town and dropped me off. It made me feel so much better. My hair was too long and difficult to look after ~ at least I've still got plenty!
I have nearly healed! New skin has grown all over the raw bits, apart from a little bit the size of a ten pence piece.
The District Nurses now come only twice a week! They were coming every day, and I would never know when to expect them. They took a photo when I had my first visit. Can you imagine? They now compare with that and say it looks like a different bum. Such joy in hearing those magic words! They don't let me look at the photo, it is the stuff nightmares are made of.
I attended my twin grandsons' school concert. I was so pleased to be able to get there, and even dressed up & put some make up on. The boys were great on guitar and drums, I felt so proud of them. they are two talented little guys. On the way home we called at our Local, and I had a glass of wine. I felt normal - well, as normal as I'll ever be with only half a body that works.
One of our ships Lord Nelson came to Jersey. I wasn't well enough to go down to the harbour to see her, but two of the crew came to see me. It was lovely to see them, and I was sad I was unable to join them on their voyage to Southampton to meet the sister ship, Tenacious, on her return home from Australia. How sad I feel to have missed my voyage from Cape Town to Antigua. I do wonder if I will ever be well enough to sail again.
Sunshine and Wimbledon. Strawberries and cream. ( no champagne yet...) Beautiful garden. Beautiful home. Some really good friends who keep up the support, visit and send lovely messages.. Wonderful, caring family. Rescued Thai boys. England's excellent performance in the World Cup - not that I generally support them, or football in general. I am Welsh, but they did themselves proud, as did their Manager.
So really lots of goods!
THE BAD AND THE DOWNRIGHT UGLY.
Feel bad telling my amazing 94yr old mum, every night, that I have had a cyst in my bottom and they have had to laser it out. I daren't mention the C word. We have exactly the same conversation. " Well what is it exactly that you've had?" "Why?" "How long will it take to get better?" "Did you catch it from a toilet seat?" I love her dearly, and wish I lived nearer so I could visit her. As you may guess, her short term memory has gone. If I told her it was cancer, she would panic and then forget by the next day.....
A really ill, dear friend who is struggling. I feel guilty as I will hopefully recover, and she knows she won't. I think of her often. F...ing cancer.
To be truthful, knickers still hurt. I can't wear trousers unless they are really baggy, but you really need to wear knickers, even with them.
The cards and flowers have dwindled, the friends' visits lessened, does that go in the good or the bad?The good I suppose. it must mean I am getting better.
Now the downright ugly.
I am having a truly shitty time.
The year after my stroke, we went to Canada to see my dearly loved aunt. One day when we had called at a Tim Hortons (superb coffee/bakery bar) I went to the "bathroom" as they say, as I walked out, a little guy looked at me and proclaimed loudly " Holy Cow, you've been in the shit!!"
Well it did describe me then, but not literally. It does describe me now, literally. I don't wish to be so basic, but it is basic, it is undignified, it is embarrassing, demoralising etc.etc. I loathe it. The last two mornings, feeling fine, until after breakfast. I don't even get the full message to the already damaged brain. It happens. Fortunately I have been in the tiled bathroom. I did think of my mum's carpeted bathroom at the time....... Say it as you will, big jobs, number two, poo, crap, shit everywhere. This morning I hit the floor, a wide area, somehow managed my shoes AND my bare feet, both legs and all over the toilet. I loathe it. I was thinking this was the most horrid part of the treatment, of course having forgotten the pain in doing it only 3 weeks ago. Mr Bloke comes to the fore. I heave on the sight and smell of any poo, including my own. He can "do" poo, I can "do" sick. I cleaned up his, he cleans up mine. No wonder we've always been the perfect match! I am frightened to go out. What if it happens in a public place? I have no control. My nurse tells me that this is to be expected after the treatment, and it settles with most people. I don't like that word most. I seldom fit into the 'most' bracket regarding health!
So I suppose more goods than bad. Fingers crossed for the shitty business. (should I say buttocks clenched?)
The good.
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