Tag Archives: #health

Bittersweet

I went to visit my Nan with T & A on Saturday. We haven’t seen her for a few months and I wanted to see her before our Christmas visit as that would have been too long to wait. K didn’t come with us as he was up in Birmingham for a friends 50th birthday (more on that later). There is no getting away from the fact that my Nan has aged. I had a bit of a ‘moment’ late last year when I hadn’t seen her for quite some time and I wrote about it in Growing up is hard In the last few weeks there has been talk about her going into a home where she would have round the clock care. There are many pros to this idea: my mum and my aunt won’t have the huge responsibility of looking after her (cleaning, washing, cooking, sorting out finances – the list goes on); they will be able to visit her and actually spend time with her rather than spending all their time doing chores; we will all have less worry about her being in her flat alone with only a neighbour and her lifeline (a button she can press to connect her to a care service) to hand if she feels unwell; less worry about her falling and being unable to call someone – just less worry generally. The cons are that we will have to sort out all her belongings and reduce them down to a size that she can take with her. She has a LOT of stuff and to her it’s all important and all needs to “go to a good home”. She will have to leave her home of 50+ years and her life will change. At nearly 97 who wants that? Of course she doesn’t want the upheaval and the uncertainty of what life will be like. Ideally, in her head, she wants to see her days out in her flat and remain the master of her ship, a ship she has been in charge of for 50+ years until the last 6 years or so when things started to get harder. She is resistant and then, alternately, resigned to the idea. When I saw her on Saturday she asked me if she looked old. I told her she was beautiful. Because she is. I wish with all my heart that I could wind the clock back for her to a time when she was still be able to do everything for herself, that she didn’t need carers, that she didn’t need my mum and Aunt to do all that they do for her.  I’ve not really been able to stop thinking about her since I saw her and I know my mum and Aunt feel caught between a rock and a hard place – no-one wants to force her to go into a home against her wishes, no-one wants her to be upset or sad BUT the situation is becoming almost impossible. She seemed to be in the ‘resigned’ camp of thought when I saw her (this can change daily, today she is probably adamant that she is going nowhere) and said that it’s all down to the social worker’s report and the decision of the care panel. We will have to see what they say and hope that she accepts it. It’s always lovely to see her but I always leave with a certain sadness.

As I mentioned earlier, K went up to Birmingham for a friends birthday. They were going go-karting and out for a meal and drinks afterwards. He decided to stay overnight as he doesn’t see them that often and wanted to be able to have a couple of drinks. I hate it when he is away, I don’t sleep properly and I miss him. Sad, but true. However, he doesn’t go very often and other than work-related evenings or socialising now and again with our friends he doesn’t get much downtime apart from with me, poor man. When he moved down here and we moved in together he would go up now and again but then we got married, as did many of his friends, and then we had T. It all happened quite quickly and I have to admit that I didn’t make it easy for him to go back up after we had T. I couldn’t cope well on my own and felt that I needed him around all the time. He was great and never complained, but he sort of fell out of the habit of going back up and seeing his friends. When he got home yesterday he was really full of beans and chatty and he’d clearly had a good time. He was knackered but he’d enjoyed himself immensely. He sat and chatted to T about the go-karting (they had been to a local one recently so were comparing notes) and about some funny incidents in a bar. We went out for dinner and he was chatty all night and relaxed and it was lovely It made me realise how much he must have missed seeing them. I have to take some of the blame – I didn’t make it easy for him in years gone by and he knows I don’t like him being away so he tries not to be. I’ve told him he must go more often. No, I won’t sleep but, big deal, I don’t sleep well when he IS here! I love seeing my friends and I can see them whenever I want to. They make me happy, they know me as someone other than a wife or a mum. He must feel the same when he is with his friends – they’ve known each other since secondary school and they have history – they don’t know him as Dad or husband or colleague. To them he is just K and that must be great. I am determined to get him to go up at least once every couple of months as we will all reap the benefits if he comes back as happy as he was yesterday.

 

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“That’s very nearly an armful”

I gave blood last week. I try and go as often as I can and it makes me feel good about myself for a few minutes. I don’t mind the process – I’m not bothered by needles and I’m a “quick bleeder”* so it doesn’t take long and then I’m off back to my day to day life. I don’t really give it much more thought other than the fleeting feeling of doing a good deed. But I received a text yesterday telling me thanks and that my donation had been sent to the Queen Hospital in Romford. I had a similar text last time I donated and I sceptically thought it would be just randomly sent, that they couldn’t possibly track my donation and then tell me about it. It seems I was wrong and I should not be such a doubter. What a great feeling.

* I also have very shy veins so although it can take ages for them to get me started, I don’t take long once it’s underway. Not sure how helpful being a “quick bleeder” or having “shy veins” would be in the event of an injury to myself but let’s focus on the positives.

Title courtesy of the brilliant Tony Hancock in The Blood Donor. If you’ve never seen this classic sketch you can watch it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dEUvyaNu0uw

Gain an hour – no thanks

I know I’m probably in the minority on this but I HATE it when the clocks go back. When you’re someone who wakes up RIDICULOUSLY early every morning, to discover that it’s an hour earlier still is pure torture. It wouldn’t be so bad if we gained an extra hour later on in the day. That would work for me. Somewhere around 3pm on a Sunday would be perfect. I understand that it was all brought in to help the farmers – giving them an extra hour of daylight – but surely it doesn’t matter when the hour changes? If we all know it changes at 2am then we’d all know it was changing at 3pm! It wouldn’t make that much difference, would it? Of course, I’m joking, no-one would want to be working on a Sunday and have to do an extra hour, rather than lie in bed for an hour longer before going to work. But I do still hate it.

It was horrendous when the kids were small as their body clocks (like mine now) had no concept of Daylight Saving Hours and so could never be persuaded to go back to bed. Those were the days when I could sleep past 6am and could have benefited from the extra hour. Now they are teenagers (nearly in A’s case) they will be chuffed for the excuse to lay in bed even longer. While I lay here wondering when I can get up without being accused of trying to wake the whole house up. None of them understand my inability to sleep and find it hard to sympathise. When I moan to K that I woke up at *insert ludicrously early time here* he asks “why did you do that?” Like I have any sort of control over it. But zero sympathy. He is able to sleep whenever, wherever, however long he wants. His idea of a bad night is turning over and being aware of it.

Give me a lost hour in March any day. You can keep your extra hour and your darker evenings. I’m off to make myself a cup of tea.

A walk, a lunch, family and a jigsaw

Today is Friday. You know how I LOVE a Friday, and this was a really good one. T, A and I went for a lovely walk over at Ashridge with G&G. We laughed – a lot – and generally had a lovely time. We followed it up with a pub lunch and then a cuppa and a choccy biscuit* at our house. My kids get along so well with my Mum and Dad and we all love spending time with them. When G&G went home I cracked on with my new Where’s Wally jigsaw. Yes, I know I’m 45 not 5 but I love a jigsaw and you can judge me all you like.

*I bought two packs of M&S chocolate biscuits on Monday with the intention of putting them away for Christmas. They were on offer at £3 each so I was pleased with my bargain. We finished one box yesterday and opened the second box today to offer one to G&G. Oh dear. Please note they are only single layer boxes. We’re not THAT greedy.

Boring/perfect

I’ve had a boring day working and not much about it has made me smile, until I went out for dinner with my lovely old friend. (She’s not old, I’ve just known her a long time, that sort of old friend.) As always, we’ve caught up on family news, swapped moans about work and husbands and most of all we’ve laughed. Not just a chuckle here and there – proper laughing that makes your tummy hurt. And stuffed our faces whilst telling each other how badly our latest health kicks are going. And home in time for the ten o’clock news. Perfect.

Stress, Social and Smooth

Stress. The kids went back to school nearly two weeks ago. Last Monday, T had a mini-meltdown. When I say meltdown, he was mildly stressed out. T doesn’t do meltdowns. He does calm and laid back so when he gets stressed it is unusual but not insurmountable. He doesn’t have to tell me when something is worrying him, it is obvious – he goes quiet and in turn becomes argumentative. And anyway, I just know. Before I had kids, I didn’t really believe the whole “mum spidey senses” thing but it is actually a Thing. Anyway, we had a chat after the argument and he admitted he was feeling a bit pressured by the whole GCSE thing and the pressure to do well. We had spoken at length during the summer about how much effort he has been giving so far and how it is not enough to just do the bare minimum. The failed RE GCSE seemed to spur him on, but have I created a monster? Have I made too much of it and now he is stressing out? Anyway, we talked a bit more and it transpired that the homework app wasn’t working (see, technology is NOT always a good thing – what was wrong with writing things down into a homework diary?) and he didn’t want to get behind with his homework………….because he wanted to watch the Apple Conference live the following evening. I don’t need to worry, he clearly still has his priorities in a different place.

Social. On Saturday night, A went to a friend’s birthday party. I am finding it increasingly hard to keep up with her social life and the way it is organised. There’s no invites any more. Parents don’t contact parents any more. Your child gets a text (or Whatsapp message, or Instagram DM, or Snapchat PM….etc) invite from their friend and they ask you if they can go. You say yes or no and if in the affirmative the details get passed to you as and when your child gets them. You don’t have to text a parent or call a parent to say that your child can attend and “hi” I’m J, A’s mum”. None of that. On this particular occasion I had not met the girl whose party it was, or her parents. I just knew she lived in “the big house on the corner of the road that goes down to the school”. She was being dropped off by another friend’s step-dad (again all organised child-to-child but at least we know the friend in question and have met the mum and step-dad) and we were picking them up later. I had an address and a time and the knowledge that they were going to watch a movie at the house and then dinner out at a local pizza place. That was all. Now, I don’t know how you feel reading this, but I felt a little lacking in my parental duties. However, knowing that I could see her whereabouts on my lovely app, I felt slightly less nervous than I could have done. And I knew two of the other girls she was going to be with who are both pretty sensible. She was being dropped off and picked up. Nothing to worry about. And there wasn’t, it was all fine, she had a lovely time; they were even left unsupervised in the restaurant while the birthday girl’s parents went to the chip shop (it’s classier than it sounds) and so she felt very grown up (which I suppose she is becoming). I went to pick her up at the designated time with K as chauffeur. The idea of the “big house on the corner” made me slightly nervous. Meeting a new person made me slightly nervous. Meeting a new person who lives in a VERY big house…you get the idea. I was nervous. Especially having had ZERO contact with her previously. She was perfectly nice, they had all “been fine” and so after collecting all their belongings (why do girls have so much stuff?) we left. I have no idea what the mum’s name was. We made small talk while they were getting their stuff but other than that she has 2 older children and one younger one and that her house is MASSIVE I know nothing more than that. It’s not a problem, it just feels weird. Up til now, I have pretty much known the parents of A’s friends, because I have seen them at school and probably chatted to them in the playground. I haven’t had to worry about this stuff with T, he still hangs around with the same mates he had in nursery. He has other friends, new friends from secondary school, but boys don’t really do the whole “tea” at each others houses thing. Or parties really. Well, T doesn’t anyway. It’s a whole new world and one I am finding hard to adjust to. We have a “new friend” coming for “tea” tomorrow and another one for a sleepover on Saturday night (I have met her before so it will be fine) – I might need therapy by Sunday.

So, that just leaves Smooth. I have not been sleeping brilliantly for a few weeks. When I say not brilliantly, I mean I can get to sleep no problem (in fact probably too easily, i.e. in front of the TV most evenings) but I have started waking up around 4am again. I don’t know why but it is annoying. What is even more annoying is that when I am lying there awake all I can think of is a bloody song that I can’t get out of my head. Not always the same song, but normally one that I don’t even like. I have realised that it is probably down to listening to Radio 2 all day.  It’s not their fault but they do play the same records over and over again – their playlist is pretty limited – and it can get a bit repetitive, and one of the songs will get stuck in my noddle and at 4am it decides to start blasting out. So, I have decided on a change of station. I started out this morning with Classic FM – no lyrics, no catchy tunes, was my thinking. After ten minutes I couldn’t take any more. I need lyrics. I need a catchy tune. I scrolled through the list and Smooth caught my eye – billed as “your relaxing music mix” I though it worth a go. Ooh I like it. So far not one repeat of a song. Nothing current, I grant you – I’m not in danger of being Down With The Kids – but nothing repetitive that could get stuck in my head, not so far anyway. Some old classics, actually only old classics; DJ’s whose voices are not too annoying, so far; a few adverts, could get annoying; but mainly just easy listening background noise with a few “oh I LOVE this one”s thrown in. Let’s see what happens tonight.

 

 

List-less

For years, whenever we have been going away – even for just a few days – I have written lists. One year I needed a list of all my lists, there were so many. I've always seen lists as a saviour, as something I can't live without. With lists I was in control and knew exactly what I needed to do. I had lists for other people so THEY knew what they had to do and I thought it was all a brilliant way of going about it.

In recent months, I have been making myself challenge the way I deal with things. Not Big Things, just Small Things that I get stressed or annoyed about and that make me stress other people out in the process (or annoy them, which is far worse). For example, cooking dinner every night. A Small Thing, but I used to get so wound up by having to decide what we were going to eat, decide what I needed to buy from the supermarket, actually do the shopping, the cooking. Deciding, shopping, cooking. And on and on it went. So now, we agree what we want to eat as a family (I still order the stuff we need – I can't change the world overnight – slowly slowly catchy monkey) and K cooks a few times a week now (and seems to be enjoying it mostly). Over the summer I have announced that one night each week a child will cook. I say child. They're not kids anymore really, young adults. And very capable of knocking up a dinner for four people. So why did I get so stressed and annoyed if it's not difficult? Because I don't want to be the one making ALL the decisions ALL the time and it's very nice to have dinner cooked for me now and again. Thank you.

So, back to the lists. I still write a shopping list, I haven't got that good a memory, but I have decided to ditch the lists for other things. Like to-do-lists and holiday lists. I realised that the lists were actually making me more stressed. By writing a list I was taking responsibility for it all. I was saying "look, I've got this, I am in control and if we get to our holiday destination and we don't have something important then it is all MY fault". And believe me, it's happened. And the consequence is me feeling terrible, other people feeling annoyed and the holiday loses it's sheen of loveliness. So, instead of saying "I've got this", I've said "pack what you want to take". Job done. I realise this is easier now that the 'young adults' are, well, young adults and can decide how many T-shirts they want to take. T has packed his own bag for at least the last 4 trips that he has been on and I haven't even asked him how many pairs of pants he has in his bag. See, progress! So, if someone doesn't have a phone charger, well then they will be very sad but they will be annoyed at themselves and not me. If they don't have enough pants, well, er, they will have to wash them or go commando. But it won't be MY fault.

(N.B. I've jotted down things like 'cool box' and 'picnic blanket' because they are in the garage and I don't rummage around in the man cave.)

I have NOT made a list of places we MUST go to while we are away. We have a map that a lovely friend has lent us and some leaflets; we have the National Trust app; we have our brains and the internet if we get stuck. I started to write a list of places and forced myself to throw it away – for so many years I have had my list and it's rained and the list sat there making me feel sad that we were not going to get to these lovely places I had planned to go to. Not this year. I am going to wake up each morning, check the forecast and as a family WE will decide where we are going and WHAT we will do and WHERE we will get food, etc, etc.

I'm not saying that this is going to be the best holiday we've ever had; equally I'm not saying that every holiday that has gone before has been a disaster; but I am saying that I am NOT going to be in charge.

So I may be list-less but I feel quite free and quite excited by the idea.

Another N.B. I am not going to be 'online' while I am away. I am not going to be checking in, or checking other peoples check-in's. I am going to take some lovely pictures using my camera (if I remember to take it – ha ha!) and I will post them when I get home, if I want to.