splodgenoodles: (Default)
Phone is fixed. I rang the people, they talked me down from the panic and then through the fixing, nice people. Such nice people. <3

My phone now has no security until I can work out how to redo my password, ideally as a four-digit pin, quite frankly. The fingerprint thing was too fickle and the password too long. Oh and it was kicking in way too soon to be practical for when you're standing around in Aldi's trying to remember whether you were after colby cheese or maybe a socket set.

Now watch and laugh as I totally fail to set new security measures altogether, and then berate myself after my phone gets nicked by someone with relatives overseas.

In exchange for a working (if insecure) phone, the shower screen jammed while I was trying to get out of the shower.

Also, I was heading off to my GP a few minutes ago before realising the appointment is actually AN HOUR and ten minutes away rather than the ten minutes I had in my head. Which I'd failed to check on my phone because phone stuff was All Too Hard.

I think a nice cup of tea is called for.

Uh Oh.

Dec. 4th, 2014 11:41 pm
splodgenoodles: (Default)
Premenstrual tension in... five!

(I'm kidding. It started a few hours ago but I thought I was upset about my new haircut until just then when I checked my diary. I'm still upset and I keep thinking the problem is the haircut but reason tells me that unless I'm still upset about my haircut in a week it's probably just hormones.

If I don't have my period by this time next week, it might still be hormones, or it might really be the haircut.

Seriously, why could a haircut cause this much maudlin introspection? It's no different from my last haircut.

Unless of course, that's the problem, and what I really desperately needed was a fabulous change and now, that opportunity has passed me by forever and I will never know happiness again.)



(Oh dear god, maybe I *do* I need a fabulous change. Perhaps I should immediately sell my house and all my possessions and move to Tonga. And perhaps I should break up with MyGC as well, because it's been a couple of months since I last did that. And while I'm at it I can tell everyone else I know what their problems really are and how they need to change. After all it can't be healthy to bottle it all up.

And then, even if it is premenstrual tension, I'll never suffer it again because I'll have fixed everything in my life - and the lives of everyone I know - this time around. I'll cure my PMT for once and for all.)


(I'd better start work immediately, wouldn't want getting my period to slow me down - it'd be at least another month before I see things this clearly again.

*beetles off to compose outrageous emails* )

No reason.

Mar. 21st, 2014 04:11 pm
splodgenoodles: (penguins)
No reason to be grumpy whatsoever, and I am not premenstrual. This is what my health, medication and mood diary will hopefully help me sort out. So I guess I'd better go and update, FFS.

Stupid diary.

~~~

I when I say no reason, I'm not kidding. The list of things that are sorted or underway, or going well - immense. Fucking ace. Everything's coming up kittens.

Kittens, puppies and roses.

FFS.

Mar. 9th, 2014 07:04 pm
splodgenoodles: (Penelope intro)
My last post, now set to private, was all about how well I'm feeling. Jolly spiffing.

Hahahah.

It's like I do these posts when I'm on the crest of a wave and we all know what happens next, don't we?

Ugh.

Feb. 11th, 2014 02:42 pm
splodgenoodles: (Sisyphus)
It's a whimpering day. Well, hopefully just a whimpering moment. I hate it when this happens, because I don't know what triggers it and when it's happening, I have no idea what to do about it.

From sitting around happily enough, to getting sick of the internet and offsetting this by doing a spot of domestic stuff - a declutter attempt on the living room - but I only got worse. I tend to think of it as "feeling teary and needing to have a cry" but I'm not the crying type. More like "whimperwhimper it's all too haaaard! I'm scaaaared!"

It's not all too hard. And my life has improved a lot in the last little while - it looks like the roller coaster ride of stress is now levelling out. I think I'm just not very good at self-care or something. Not very good at telling that anxious little child that I've got her, and it's okay.

It always feels like a major existential crisis and I just wish there was a pill to make it go away.

I used to think the solution lay in relaxation. Or mindfulness. But I don't anymore. Those things make me twitch and these days I spend too much time in quiet isolation, feeling annoyed about it. I believe the solution would be found in physical effort or meaningful activity, with the relaxation and/or meditation afterwards, but I can't do enough of either to get me to that happy point of comfortable stillness.
splodgenoodles: (Default)
There was something that just passed by on Faceplant that I *so* want to troll...

one of those inspirational poems, with bonus story.

Now updated for Facebook.

I first had to sit through the same inspirational poem when I was studying social work in the early 90's, it was read to us as part of a lecture on aged care. It had a slightly different backstory then: it was a poem found in the draw of a deceased old lady in a Scottish nursing home. Now been updated to an old man in a nursing home in Australia, with bonus bullshit about the poem being distributed nationally as if it were some great discovery that's changing the face of aged care in Australia. Oh, and it's being used to lure people to the OPs website and free download for something-or-other.

~~~

If you've got a feeling or belief you want to express, a story you want to tell, use your words, people. YOUR words. Or *your* fucking photos. Don't just click share because something someone else shared looked vaguely nice and has some appealing sentiment. It's stupid, pointless emotional manipulation. I have ceased to care about old people alone, puppies with their paws cut off, and whatever shmaltzy, pointless attempt at tear jerking I will see next time I log in. I really fucking have.

If it really fucking matters to you that old people are mistreated, write about it. Go do some research, go get involved. Go find out and report back. Otherwise, fuck off.
splodgenoodles: (bobthebuilder)
Ah me.

The daily grind. Yes, today it's all about explaining to people that you need help - their help - and maybe they can do this even though they've never done it before, because it's really quite easy.

It's a reasonable request, made in a pleasant and respectful manner.

The trouble is, it's tricky. Get it even slightly wrong and your request will go no further. Gatekeepers are called that for a reason. The reason being that they are the doorbitches of the medical world. So calling them "fabulous nobodies", is hardly appropriate or true, but calling them "grumpy nobodies", "misanthropic nobodies" or just "fucking annoy9ing nobodies" is very, very tempting, but not very nice. It would also display total lack of empathy on my part, a failing that I feel I should keep under wraps when I want to be uber critical.

I have observed that the most poisonous criticism always carries the stench of apparent empathy.

In case you are wondering, I am trying to arrange a home visiting pathology nurse. Pathology labs have a daily round of home visits to sickies, crips and oldies. It's not a problem.

However, they need your doctor to make the booking.

At one point in the past I made an arrangement directly with a pathology lab for home visits on *my* request, done via a nice letter and several phone calls up the heirachy. However, one day after a long time during which I'd not needed home visits, I rang to find they had updated their system and had new staff to match, who weren't going to allow me to question the rules or speak to anyone up the food chain. My special arrangement had disappeared and that was that. That was fine, because I had a GP that was really prompt and okay about these things so I didn't bother setting it all up again. But of course, now I'm not there and don't have that GP.

The specialist that requires the tests is unavailable and her staff have said they've never done any such arrangement with a path lab, so they say it's up to my new GP.

My GP's receptionist is oh fuckit, just bloody stupid easily confused and always in a hurry. After a few mintues that confused us both, she said she would pass on a message to the new GP for me, which was as good as I could get. God knows what the message actually is. I'm hoping it's to call me and find out.

This is the receptionist who most recently was unable to work out how to send an email with an attachment. It's long story and really not interesting, but I think the brief version paints an adequate picture.

So I am not entirely optimistic.



[Memo to self: when receptionist says "is it because you can't walk?" just say yes. It's not the occasion to explain that you can, but not much, that you can, but you have a fatigue problem that strictly speaking doesn't mean you can't walk, per se, but that you have a string of problems that makes going *out* for this a serious problem in itself...
Yes, she is probably daft enough that one day she will see you standing up in her waiting room and say "hey you CAN walk!" but maybe you should cross that Bridge Of Stupid when you come to it.]
splodgenoodles: (Sisyphus)
grrr...aarghh
splodgenoodles: (bobthebuilder)
I was going to open this by using a week as the time frame.

But it's only five days.

In the last five days I have had three (3) health care professionals demonstrate complete and utter ignorance of Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. Particularly regarding severity. Two of these are people I have had quite a bit to do with. Fortunately in both these cases I was able to provide a spot of professional development that was appropriate to the situation.

For free of course. Too bad no one will pay me for it.

(Please don't pipe up and helpfully suggest I *could* get paid and maybe it's something I could do. If I could have, I would have. If I ever can, maybe I will. I'm not stupid or lacking in initiative and motivation to do useful stuff...all available spoons are in use.)

You might be able to guess, by the stuff in parentheses that one of these encounters was of the 'could you maybe work part-time...?' and then when being reminded of severity getting a 'so what do you do all day then?' response.

Answers, btw:
1. No, I cannot work part time (and don't you fucking think that I would already be doing that if I could? What kind of person do you think I am? Do you think I'm a HOUSEWIFE? Do you think 10B and I are some sort of weird throwbacks to a mostly imagined past in which wifey stays home dusting the trinkets and making dinner for her man because it's his job to earn the bread and her job to dust....?).

2. I spend most of my time looking at the walls because I am too ill(zonked, foggy, fluey, confused, physically exhausted) to do anything specific. Then I try and do something, usually a small task by most peoples' standards, then I rest some more until I can do something else.

If I'm less task focussed, I tend to aimlessly fiddle and wander and sit (rinse and repeat). So in order to get the most out of life, I have become a very organised, task focussed person.

So, for example, 20 minutes reading light fiction will be preceded by half an hour sitting in the reading chair with a cup of tea, staring at the room because my brain can't get out of neutral, possibly with an interlude while I walk to the kitchen and back, having totally forgotten what I went there for. Then I read. It's nice. I might even read for a while. But I cannot read all day. No really, I can't. It will take me all day to digest what I've just read anyway. So as the brain slows down again, I stare at something else for a bit. So 20 minutes reading can take maybe 100 minutes of actual time.

I really do spend a lot of time just staring at stuff. I know this is hard for you to comprehend, I only comprehend it because it actually happens to me. And even then, only because it happens all the time. I don't really believe it can possibly be like this, but it is.

/rant
splodgenoodles: (bobthebuilder)
I was going to open this by using a week as the time frame.

But it's only five days.

In the last five days I have had three (3) health care professionals demonstrate complete and utter ignorance of Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. Particularly regarding severity. Two of these are people I have had quite a bit to do with. Fortunately in both these cases I was able to provide a spot of professional development that was appropriate to the situation.

For free of course. Too bad no one will pay me for it.

(Please don't pipe up and helpfully suggest I *could* get paid and maybe it's something I could do. If I could have, I would have. If I ever can, maybe I will. I'm not stupid or lacking in initiative and motivation to do useful stuff...all available spoons are in use.)

You might be able to guess, by the stuff in parentheses that one of these encounters was of the 'could you maybe work part-time...?' and then when being reminded of severity getting a 'so what do you do all day then?' response.

Answers, btw:
1. No, I cannot work part time (and don't you fucking think that I would already be doing that if I could? What kind of person do you think I am? Do you think I'm a HOUSEWIFE? Do you think 10B and I are some sort of weird throwbacks to a mostly imagined past in which wifey stays home dusting the trinkets and making dinner for her man because it's his job to earn the bread and her job to dust....?).

2. I spend most of my time looking at the walls because I am too ill(zonked, foggy, fluey, confused, physically exhausted) to do anything specific. Then I try and do something, usually a small task by most peoples' standards, then I rest some more until I can do something else.

If I'm less task focussed, I tend to aimlessly fiddle and wander and sit (rinse and repeat). So in order to get the most out of life, I have become a very organised, task focussed person.

So, for example, 20 minutes reading light fiction will be preceded by half an hour sitting in the reading chair with a cup of tea, staring at the room because my brain can't get out of neutral, possibly with an interlude while I walk to the kitchen and back, having totally forgotten what I went there for. Then I read. It's nice. I might even read for a while. But I cannot read all day. No really, I can't. It will take me all day to digest what I've just read anyway. So as the brain slows down again, I stare at something else for a bit. So 20 minutes reading can take maybe 100 minutes of actual time.

I really do spend a lot of time just staring at stuff. I know this is hard for you to comprehend, I only comprehend it because it actually happens to me. And even then, only because it happens all the time. I don't really believe it can possibly be like this, but it is.

/rant
splodgenoodles: (Default)
Oh, and the never ending renovations have started up again. Remember them? No? Okay let me tell you.

The fucking neighbours are trying to break me.

They are doing this very, very slowly with very, very loud and constant machinery. Angle grinders. I assume they are angle grinders because when I asked what they were doing once they made comments about 'painting'. They regular have a compressor delivered as well, clearly that's for days when they want to give me extra aggravation.

It's obvious that it's just a ploy to break me, because they're taking long enough that if they really were painting, by the time they'd finish they'd need to start again anyway. And no one's that stupid, are they?
splodgenoodles: (Default)
Oh, and the never ending renovations have started up again. Remember them? No? Okay let me tell you.

The fucking neighbours are trying to break me.

They are doing this very, very slowly with very, very loud and constant machinery. Angle grinders. I assume they are angle grinders because when I asked what they were doing once they made comments about 'painting'. They regular have a compressor delivered as well, clearly that's for days when they want to give me extra aggravation.

It's obvious that it's just a ploy to break me, because they're taking long enough that if they really were painting, by the time they'd finish they'd need to start again anyway. And no one's that stupid, are they?
splodgenoodles: (Default)
Unless you are [livejournal.com profile] tenbears who is clearly very perceptive in these matters.

The day after a really big day(for me) I am usually always a bitconked out.

Sometimes I continue with a bit of a buzz but it's an overload thing: more like a corpse that hasn't stopped twitching, sorry for that image.

Well anyway, I went through that phase this morning (why yes, this morning), feeling all very good about the moderate and sensible amount I was going to get done, and on the verge of writing a post about how I've just decided to try pre-emptive resting and more serious pacing strategies again with a few specific goals in mind and it's working already even though I've only just started today boy howdy I've got this all sorted.

Pottered round and did a few useful little things, read book for half an hour (part of the plan for the perfect well-balanced day that won't fuck up my health ha ha ha) plan to go to Post Office and maybe a few other shops while I'm about it, in an entirely "it's all within my careful and sensible pacing schedule" frame of mind.

hahahahaha

hohohohoho

hehehehehe

Within? Within my arse.

Way beyond. Way, way beyond. Somewhere over the fucking rainbow.

It took me to getting dressed, sitting down to do stuff but then having to get up and go to the toilet for everything to hit.

10B was renovating the laundry at the time so as I passed by I mentioned my sudden crashiness to him and wondered if I ever would learn and he did say that given his observations thus far, no I probably never would. I have toddled back here to reconsider my strategy for the next couple of days.

Am now considering it a big win if I manage to be coherent at unavoidable appointments today and tomorrow and I am staying away from multitasking, decision making, movement, sound, soduku, heavy machinery and wombles until further notice. The couch is good, long live the couch.
splodgenoodles: (Default)
Unless you are [livejournal.com profile] tenbears who is clearly very perceptive in these matters.

The day after a really big day(for me) I am usually always a bitconked out.

Sometimes I continue with a bit of a buzz but it's an overload thing: more like a corpse that hasn't stopped twitching, sorry for that image.

Well anyway, I went through that phase this morning (why yes, this morning), feeling all very good about the moderate and sensible amount I was going to get done, and on the verge of writing a post about how I've just decided to try pre-emptive resting and more serious pacing strategies again with a few specific goals in mind and it's working already even though I've only just started today boy howdy I've got this all sorted.

Pottered round and did a few useful little things, read book for half an hour (part of the plan for the perfect well-balanced day that won't fuck up my health ha ha ha) plan to go to Post Office and maybe a few other shops while I'm about it, in an entirely "it's all within my careful and sensible pacing schedule" frame of mind.

hahahahaha

hohohohoho

hehehehehe

Within? Within my arse.

Way beyond. Way, way beyond. Somewhere over the fucking rainbow.

It took me to getting dressed, sitting down to do stuff but then having to get up and go to the toilet for everything to hit.

10B was renovating the laundry at the time so as I passed by I mentioned my sudden crashiness to him and wondered if I ever would learn and he did say that given his observations thus far, no I probably never would. I have toddled back here to reconsider my strategy for the next couple of days.

Am now considering it a big win if I manage to be coherent at unavoidable appointments today and tomorrow and I am staying away from multitasking, decision making, movement, sound, soduku, heavy machinery and wombles until further notice. The couch is good, long live the couch.
splodgenoodles: (angry moomintroll)
Last night, at about 3AM, I gave myself a needle-stick injury.

I'd given the cat her fluids, I coudn't find the doohicky to cap the needle, so I could not removed it safely.

So I tried to remove it unsafely, as evidenced by the fact that shortly after I started doing so, I had to pull the needle out of my right forefinger.

I must have hit a major vessel. There was very little blood, but within moments my right forefinger was bluish and slightly swollen. Also rather painful. It still is bluish and swollen, and the bruise has now spread into the palm of my hand.

I tried to bleed it a bit, because I once saw someone on telly do that when they got a needle stick injury courtesy of a drug addict, and then I gave it a wash with dettol because that's what my parents would have done. Then, thinking of snakebite treatment and the action of the lymphatic system, I decided to wrap my hand and forearm in the one bandage we own, so that I not move things too much, thus delaying the process of spreading cat venom lymphatic fluid throughout my own system. No reason to hasten my own death.

Then I went to bed, having decided the one really stupid thing to do would be to see what Dr. Google had to say about this sort of thing (and I still haven't looked, and have no intention of doing so for at least a week). Some things should simply not be done at 3AM.

Today I spoke to one of the other GPs at my GPs practice (she's not in today), and I'm already feeling much better thankyou. This is probably a safer injury than a cat bite. The cat mouth is full of bacteria, but the cat itself, not so much. Tetanus is a risk with dirt, there is no dirt inside the cat and the needle was, in that respect, probably quite clean.

But it's not entirely certain.

She did say that if things go red and infected in the next day it might be time for antibiotics. There is a problem here: crap immune system because of the drugs for Crohn's Disease means I'll have more trouble if I do get something, but Crohn's Disease makes taking antibiotics a huge problem because so many of them do so much damage to the Crohn's Disease affected gut.

But it doesn't seem that likely.

I have also rung the vet, they haven't called back yet. That was 10B's idea, he was surprised I didn't ring them first because of course, they'd be the ones to have experience of this sort of thing and the ones that probably know all about it.

So that was my night. Today I'm feeling a little cranky and hard done by. And annoyed at myself for being so monumentally stupid.


Oh, and the needle is still attached to the line, also quite annoying. I did find the doohicky and recapped it, but it's well and truly jammed.
splodgenoodles: (angry moomintroll)
Last night, at about 3AM, I gave myself a needle-stick injury.

I'd given the cat her fluids, I coudn't find the doohicky to cap the needle, so I could not removed it safely.

So I tried to remove it unsafely, as evidenced by the fact that shortly after I started doing so, I had to pull the needle out of my right forefinger.

I must have hit a major vessel. There was very little blood, but within moments my right forefinger was bluish and slightly swollen. Also rather painful. It still is bluish and swollen, and the bruise has now spread into the palm of my hand.

I tried to bleed it a bit, because I once saw someone on telly do that when they got a needle stick injury courtesy of a drug addict, and then I gave it a wash with dettol because that's what my parents would have done. Then, thinking of snakebite treatment and the action of the lymphatic system, I decided to wrap my hand and forearm in the one bandage we own, so that I not move things too much, thus delaying the process of spreading cat venom lymphatic fluid throughout my own system. No reason to hasten my own death.

Then I went to bed, having decided the one really stupid thing to do would be to see what Dr. Google had to say about this sort of thing (and I still haven't looked, and have no intention of doing so for at least a week). Some things should simply not be done at 3AM.

Today I spoke to one of the other GPs at my GPs practice (she's not in today), and I'm already feeling much better thankyou. This is probably a safer injury than a cat bite. The cat mouth is full of bacteria, but the cat itself, not so much. Tetanus is a risk with dirt, there is no dirt inside the cat and the needle was, in that respect, probably quite clean.

But it's not entirely certain.

She did say that if things go red and infected in the next day it might be time for antibiotics. There is a problem here: crap immune system because of the drugs for Crohn's Disease means I'll have more trouble if I do get something, but Crohn's Disease makes taking antibiotics a huge problem because so many of them do so much damage to the Crohn's Disease affected gut.

But it doesn't seem that likely.

I have also rung the vet, they haven't called back yet. That was 10B's idea, he was surprised I didn't ring them first because of course, they'd be the ones to have experience of this sort of thing and the ones that probably know all about it.

So that was my night. Today I'm feeling a little cranky and hard done by. And annoyed at myself for being so monumentally stupid.


Oh, and the needle is still attached to the line, also quite annoying. I did find the doohicky and recapped it, but it's well and truly jammed.
splodgenoodles: (Lady Penelope's does her thing)
I am not the only client my home-care worker has who doesn't want workers coming in when they have colds or influenza (or anything likely to be contagious). When you have chronic medical problems and you're sick to start with, and maybe you're on a truckload of things that effect your immune system, it's a reasonable request.

My home-care worker is recovering from a cold. A few days ago, when the cold was in full swing, she was supposed to visit a client who has also said she doesn't want contagious people coming in.

When she told her boss that she was unwell with a cold, her boss advised her to tell the client in question that she had hayfever. I believe she did not, and took time off instead.

~~~

I don't remember the outcome, but I also know she had trouble getting time off to get the Swine 'flu vaccine. Health care people like her are considered one of the most important groups to get vaccinated.

I am in a bind here. This sucks beyond belief but I do not want to get this woman in trouble. If I speak up, she'll be in for it. And *she* isn't the one behaving badly.
splodgenoodles: (Lady Penelope's does her thing)
I am not the only client my home-care worker has who doesn't want workers coming in when they have colds or influenza (or anything likely to be contagious). When you have chronic medical problems and you're sick to start with, and maybe you're on a truckload of things that effect your immune system, it's a reasonable request.

My home-care worker is recovering from a cold. A few days ago, when the cold was in full swing, she was supposed to visit a client who has also said she doesn't want contagious people coming in.

When she told her boss that she was unwell with a cold, her boss advised her to tell the client in question that she had hayfever. I believe she did not, and took time off instead.

~~~

I don't remember the outcome, but I also know she had trouble getting time off to get the Swine 'flu vaccine. Health care people like her are considered one of the most important groups to get vaccinated.

I am in a bind here. This sucks beyond belief but I do not want to get this woman in trouble. If I speak up, she'll be in for it. And *she* isn't the one behaving badly.
splodgenoodles: (Default)
Friggin' bloody cow noises and pooh socks.

No internet today. It has mysteriously started up again sometime in the last couple of hours but it's a bit late now, I need my sleep and I'm being a good noodle and determined to get it.

Friggin' stupid thing. Never liked it anyway.

Nnnngggggg..

If I'm not back soon, avenge my death, will you?

Ta

xx
splodgenoodles: (Default)
Friggin' bloody cow noises and pooh socks.

No internet today. It has mysteriously started up again sometime in the last couple of hours but it's a bit late now, I need my sleep and I'm being a good noodle and determined to get it.

Friggin' stupid thing. Never liked it anyway.

Nnnngggggg..

If I'm not back soon, avenge my death, will you?

Ta

xx

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