splodgenoodles: (Basil Fawlty)
Okay, why the hell am I having an attack of the wibblies today?

Nice and sunny, one small outing which is *just* enough to stave off isolation and which is well within my CFS limits, a few things to do when I get home but nothing of outstanding urgency - I should be feeling grand.

Crossing my fingers for PMT, rather than complete and irretrievable psychiatric breakdown.

(On the plus side, if it's the latter, I've sorted out all my PoAs for just such an eventuality).
splodgenoodles: (Penelope intro)
Did any of you know that? I didn't.

Back in my formative years, maybe at age 24 or thereabouts, a shrink explained to me that I was an introvert. My GP also described me as introverted. So you know, the authorities had spoken.

I now think that had more to do with Anxiety Disorder and secondary depression.

I might backpedal here, I don't think I'm a full on extrovert. I just don't think I can be typed as introverted.

I like people, I tend to feel energised around people. That's so long as illness doesn't get in the way. And even then, the loneliness drives me mad.

It's seeing people that makes me want to draw, paint and knit. Not that I necessarily do those things, I just want to do those things - I feel creative and inspired.

When I don't like knitting, it's because I'm spending too much time alone and knitting just adds to the sense of silence and claustrophobia. When I can't think of anything to draw, it's because there aren't people around for me to contemplate.

Because of illness, I've learnt to live with solitude. I had to work consciously on this. Both strategies to minimise solitude (hello Livejournal!) and to cope with it. That was thanks to a later shrink, who never used the term 'introverted' but didn't bother contradicting it either.

So I think that old shrink was wrong.
splodgenoodles: (rickyswallow)
It says something about where I'm at - still - that last week, after locking myself out and having to break in, and being rather shook up, my preference was to go to someone else's home for the evening. Even though I've only been to that particular place a couple of times before. Admittedly the people there are awesomely wonderful and welcoming, but still...maybe that's inevitable when you live alone.

Wanting to hang out with friends in times of stress is only a problem if you don't have friends or can't be with the ones you do have. On this occasion this wasn't a problem, and I'm trying to ensure it's less and less likely to be a problem in my future. I want an improved sense of social cohesion back, social identity. But at least I know that that's what I need.

What worried me more is that in the following day or so, with the wibble and drama over, I felt more cheerful about life and I think it was simply because something had happenned. It was interesting. It was a challenge. It tested me (and I passed).

When you are so lacking in an ongoing sense of engagement with the world that being locked out cheers you up, something has got to change. It ties into social place, it's too big that it cannot be linked. But I don't know what it could be.

It's not about whether I've got a to-do list or not. I have got one, and I'm getting through it as I need to. It's just that the to-do list is not enough.

I don't know what I'm talking about. And that's the problem.
splodgenoodles: (Default)
I am going through one of those phases when I really can't do much.

During these times, I find it very hard not to plan things, and then set about accumulating all that I need.

It's partly a hope that if I can just organise things better, I'll be able to do more. I'll just set a goal, work out what I need, pull together the stuff that I need, and Bob's your uncle.

Needless to say, the goal is best not one I already have. And it should certainly not be one for which I've got all the bits together, because it's all about having a sense of momentum and the reality - I'm too sick - would have to be faced too soon.

The desire for a sense of potential isn't entirely the product of illness. I've always bought more books that I can ever read and I hold onto them like glue. (There could be anything in a book, and you won't know until you choose to open it.)

But I think my experience has made me much more aware of it. It's what happens when you cannot be self actualised, when you don't feel like you're living true to yourself. When you _can't_ do things you'd like to do. You scrabble around convinced that everything will be fine once you've got the next few things sorted. Surely once you've got the tools around you, the next steps (using them) will be do-able.

So I guess this means, realistically, that sending off for a whole bunch of Vietnamese language learning materials is probably premature.

~~~

What works just as well, and is much cheaper, is to move from room to room throughout the day. If some things are only done in the study and others are only done in the living room, then when I am sitting exhausted in one room, staring at one task that I can't do, I tell myself that what I really should be doing is a different task in the other room. This gives me a graceful exit and a sense of momentum, even though sometimes this will happen several times in an hour. I've been staring at my knitting for 20 minutes but I'm too buggered to knit, but that's okay - there is a phone call to be made. These happen in another room. I don't have the spoons to make the phone call so I'll lie down for a bit. Then I'll get up and look for the phone. And get a cup of tea and maybe just chill out with a line of knitting before I tackle that phone again.

Room to room. You know it makes sense.
splodgenoodles: (Default)
I am going through one of those phases when I really can't do much.

During these times, I find it very hard not to plan things, and then set about accumulating all that I need.

It's partly a hope that if I can just organise things better, I'll be able to do more. I'll just set a goal, work out what I need, pull together the stuff that I need, and Bob's your uncle.

Needless to say, the goal is best not one I already have. And it should certainly not be one for which I've got all the bits together, because it's all about having a sense of momentum and the reality - I'm too sick - would have to be faced too soon.

The desire for a sense of potential isn't entirely the product of illness. I've always bought more books that I can ever read and I hold onto them like glue. (There could be anything in a book, and you won't know until you choose to open it.)

But I think my experience has made me much more aware of it. It's what happens when you cannot be self actualised, when you don't feel like you're living true to yourself. When you _can't_ do things you'd like to do. You scrabble around convinced that everything will be fine once you've got the next few things sorted. Surely once you've got the tools around you, the next steps (using them) will be do-able.

So I guess this means, realistically, that sending off for a whole bunch of Vietnamese language learning materials is probably premature.

~~~

What works just as well, and is much cheaper, is to move from room to room throughout the day. If some things are only done in the study and others are only done in the living room, then when I am sitting exhausted in one room, staring at one task that I can't do, I tell myself that what I really should be doing is a different task in the other room. This gives me a graceful exit and a sense of momentum, even though sometimes this will happen several times in an hour. I've been staring at my knitting for 20 minutes but I'm too buggered to knit, but that's okay - there is a phone call to be made. These happen in another room. I don't have the spoons to make the phone call so I'll lie down for a bit. Then I'll get up and look for the phone. And get a cup of tea and maybe just chill out with a line of knitting before I tackle that phone again.

Room to room. You know it makes sense.
splodgenoodles: (Lock stock stoner eyes)
*twiddles thumbs*

The earlier part of today was fine: nice weather, 10B at home but cheerful, nothing spectacular but life good in a tum-ti-tum kind of way.

Saw my endocrinologist. Nothing much to report, I'll have blood tests tomorrow but we're not expecting any surprises. I've lost weight. It's noticeable on the scales, but not in terms of my actual size. Unfortunately it's probably due to Crohn's Disease, not good health.

Feeling a bit humdrum now though. I don't feel like knitting, it's too late to get stuck into anything else but feels too early to go to bed. I feel I should be doing something useful, but I'm not quite up to it. I suspect the smart money is on going to bed with a book. And reminding myself of the months that turned into years of not having the brain power to read a book at all.

Overall: plenty of tasks, not enough purpose. Or spoons. I want more spoons. I am ungrateful.

~~~

The good thing about procrastination is that the things that matter never get done, so you never run out of purpose.

~~~

Right. Time for pjs and a book.

Oh and PS: I got new bras in the mail today. One of them fits! The rest are being returned and more ordered (the fitting one is a sports bra so it's full cover, I'm still kind of hoping for a couple of other options as well). The company is Bella Forma. They specialise in larger fittings and encourage you to order, try and return as much as you need to - it's free postage for returns.
splodgenoodles: (Lock stock stoner eyes)
*twiddles thumbs*

The earlier part of today was fine: nice weather, 10B at home but cheerful, nothing spectacular but life good in a tum-ti-tum kind of way.

Saw my endocrinologist. Nothing much to report, I'll have blood tests tomorrow but we're not expecting any surprises. I've lost weight. It's noticeable on the scales, but not in terms of my actual size. Unfortunately it's probably due to Crohn's Disease, not good health.

Feeling a bit humdrum now though. I don't feel like knitting, it's too late to get stuck into anything else but feels too early to go to bed. I feel I should be doing something useful, but I'm not quite up to it. I suspect the smart money is on going to bed with a book. And reminding myself of the months that turned into years of not having the brain power to read a book at all.

Overall: plenty of tasks, not enough purpose. Or spoons. I want more spoons. I am ungrateful.

~~~

The good thing about procrastination is that the things that matter never get done, so you never run out of purpose.

~~~

Right. Time for pjs and a book.

Oh and PS: I got new bras in the mail today. One of them fits! The rest are being returned and more ordered (the fitting one is a sports bra so it's full cover, I'm still kind of hoping for a couple of other options as well). The company is Bella Forma. They specialise in larger fittings and encourage you to order, try and return as much as you need to - it's free postage for returns.
splodgenoodles: (Default)
So many years after the onset of disability and it is still the case that I can be content on a weekend but not on a weekday. I should be working. I am suddenly cut off from the world and not a part of it.
splodgenoodles: (Default)
So many years after the onset of disability and it is still the case that I can be content on a weekend but not on a weekday. I should be working. I am suddenly cut off from the world and not a part of it.
splodgenoodles: (Default)
The Fuzzy Grey Immortal is scarfing down ice cream. I am now mixing it with small amounts of chicken mince in an attempt to get her back onto healthy food. I mean we wouldn't want her to get sick now would we? Might get feline diabetes or something.

Ahem. It looks like upping the sub-cut fluids to twice a day has done the trick. The vet said to keep it up for a couple more days then cut back. He also said bye-bye as he's starting a Masters degree and finishing up work this week. I very nearly gave him a goodbye hug. Apparently it looked like I was about to but I went for a handshake instead.

I wanted to give him a hug, I really did, and not just because he's so very (really very, really very very quite) sweet, but last night I watched Lead Balloon, a comedy in which the protagonists visit the same cafe every day and are served by the same guy who in last night's episode had joined a 'hug club' and needless to say they were having to dodge him frequently.

I really didn't want to be That Guy.

And while I figure being a woman probably makes being That Guy less likely, my personal confidence is not so great at the moment that I'm not worried I'll just be some scary woman twice his age bearing down on him (or up at him, really) and cementing his resolve to be getting away from the nightmare that is middle suburbia. Mind you, 10B did kindly point out afterwards that I'm not twice his age, probably only 10-15 years above. So maybe I could have safely gone the grope rather than the handshake.

But by then we were well on our way to the supermarket so I could hardly go back for one. That would definitely be weird.

~~~

In other news I'm totally stressed out. Really. The cat situation has me on an emotional roller coaster (o rly?), and it's also just plain hard work. The situation with my medical treatment - on, off, this, that - is not necessarily bad (only time will tell - hey it might be really good), but jeebuz the changes and plans and remade plans over the last few weeks have taken their toll. And ironically, my gut is settling down even though I haven't started the antibiotics yet as the script only arrived in the mail today.

I woke up at about 4AM this morning in a overwhelming state of upset and panic. Fortunately that's what diazepam is for, but it's been a long time since I've needed it for that sort of wave of emotion.

~~~

But we did just go to the supermarket and giggle all the way round. Most therapeutic that was. Except I can't find any pesto! I really want pesto, it's that time of year but I really don't have the spoons to be making it myself. There's plenty of 'chunky basil dip' and basil sauce around the place, but nothing that anyone is brave enough to call pesto. Bastards. I want pesto! I want basil, pinenuts and parmesan, with a smidge of garlic and more than a smidge of oil...surely I'm not the only one?!? Cowardly bastard food producers and their frigging 'chunky basil'. Bastards all of them.

Yeah.

Going to be really pissed off if I have to make my own. It will be grouchy pesto and probably taste sour.
splodgenoodles: (Default)
The Fuzzy Grey Immortal is scarfing down ice cream. I am now mixing it with small amounts of chicken mince in an attempt to get her back onto healthy food. I mean we wouldn't want her to get sick now would we? Might get feline diabetes or something.

Ahem. It looks like upping the sub-cut fluids to twice a day has done the trick. The vet said to keep it up for a couple more days then cut back. He also said bye-bye as he's starting a Masters degree and finishing up work this week. I very nearly gave him a goodbye hug. Apparently it looked like I was about to but I went for a handshake instead.

I wanted to give him a hug, I really did, and not just because he's so very (really very, really very very quite) sweet, but last night I watched Lead Balloon, a comedy in which the protagonists visit the same cafe every day and are served by the same guy who in last night's episode had joined a 'hug club' and needless to say they were having to dodge him frequently.

I really didn't want to be That Guy.

And while I figure being a woman probably makes being That Guy less likely, my personal confidence is not so great at the moment that I'm not worried I'll just be some scary woman twice his age bearing down on him (or up at him, really) and cementing his resolve to be getting away from the nightmare that is middle suburbia. Mind you, 10B did kindly point out afterwards that I'm not twice his age, probably only 10-15 years above. So maybe I could have safely gone the grope rather than the handshake.

But by then we were well on our way to the supermarket so I could hardly go back for one. That would definitely be weird.

~~~

In other news I'm totally stressed out. Really. The cat situation has me on an emotional roller coaster (o rly?), and it's also just plain hard work. The situation with my medical treatment - on, off, this, that - is not necessarily bad (only time will tell - hey it might be really good), but jeebuz the changes and plans and remade plans over the last few weeks have taken their toll. And ironically, my gut is settling down even though I haven't started the antibiotics yet as the script only arrived in the mail today.

I woke up at about 4AM this morning in a overwhelming state of upset and panic. Fortunately that's what diazepam is for, but it's been a long time since I've needed it for that sort of wave of emotion.

~~~

But we did just go to the supermarket and giggle all the way round. Most therapeutic that was. Except I can't find any pesto! I really want pesto, it's that time of year but I really don't have the spoons to be making it myself. There's plenty of 'chunky basil dip' and basil sauce around the place, but nothing that anyone is brave enough to call pesto. Bastards. I want pesto! I want basil, pinenuts and parmesan, with a smidge of garlic and more than a smidge of oil...surely I'm not the only one?!? Cowardly bastard food producers and their frigging 'chunky basil'. Bastards all of them.

Yeah.

Going to be really pissed off if I have to make my own. It will be grouchy pesto and probably taste sour.
splodgenoodles: (rickyswallow)
So, what shall I deem to be important for the next few days?

Beyond nursing the cat, I'm not sure. Most of the things that I think would really make a difference to me are still way beyond my capacity and the things that are not feel somewhat petty.

Yeah, a bit uninspired and couped up.

(Incidentally, the cat has had a quiet and relaxing day. The opiate will have worn off, but she's still pretty calm. A good thing, I figure; she had a hell of an energetic and stressful time last night. She's decided the best place to be is in the hallway and she's curled up right in the middle there. You have to step over her to go anywhere and she gives you a little peep when you do.)

~~~

I was reading something on procrastination the other day in which the writer pointed out that people don't procrastinate because they have too much to do, or would rather be doing something else. Truth is, if all a procrastinator had to do was some dead simple task, like take something from A to B, they'd put it off.

And right now, that's me. To complicate matters (and possibly completely contradict myself), I am having a lot of trouble simply remembering what my priorities are...and not changing my mind or ceasing to care every 10 minutes.

One of them crises of meaning you hear so much about. I think that's it. I hit on some wonderfully sensible or fabulous thing to do but then wonder what the fricking point is in the larger scheme of things. So what if I read for half an hour every day, or stop indulging in excoriation, or knit more (or less)? So what if I actually pull myself together enough to sell that tablecloth on eBay, or sort out the seed bed...? I'm just not sure what matters and what I'm doing things for.

~~~

Being sensible: I'll probably just try and get this house in a bit more order tomorrow. Attack my usual list of 'to-do' activities.

When in doubt: carry water, chop wood.
splodgenoodles: (rickyswallow)
So, what shall I deem to be important for the next few days?

Beyond nursing the cat, I'm not sure. Most of the things that I think would really make a difference to me are still way beyond my capacity and the things that are not feel somewhat petty.

Yeah, a bit uninspired and couped up.

(Incidentally, the cat has had a quiet and relaxing day. The opiate will have worn off, but she's still pretty calm. A good thing, I figure; she had a hell of an energetic and stressful time last night. She's decided the best place to be is in the hallway and she's curled up right in the middle there. You have to step over her to go anywhere and she gives you a little peep when you do.)

~~~

I was reading something on procrastination the other day in which the writer pointed out that people don't procrastinate because they have too much to do, or would rather be doing something else. Truth is, if all a procrastinator had to do was some dead simple task, like take something from A to B, they'd put it off.

And right now, that's me. To complicate matters (and possibly completely contradict myself), I am having a lot of trouble simply remembering what my priorities are...and not changing my mind or ceasing to care every 10 minutes.

One of them crises of meaning you hear so much about. I think that's it. I hit on some wonderfully sensible or fabulous thing to do but then wonder what the fricking point is in the larger scheme of things. So what if I read for half an hour every day, or stop indulging in excoriation, or knit more (or less)? So what if I actually pull myself together enough to sell that tablecloth on eBay, or sort out the seed bed...? I'm just not sure what matters and what I'm doing things for.

~~~

Being sensible: I'll probably just try and get this house in a bit more order tomorrow. Attack my usual list of 'to-do' activities.

When in doubt: carry water, chop wood.
splodgenoodles: (Default)
For yesterday and today.


Another view from the couch. Another view from the couch.





A close up view from the couch! A close up view from the couch!

splodgenoodles: (Default)
For yesterday and today.


Another view from the couch. Another view from the couch.





A close up view from the couch! A close up view from the couch!

splodgenoodles: (Default)
A strange sort of life I lead.

I am back to trying to pace and switch, and trying to work out the best timetable for resting.

...famous last words...

~~~

I've been feeling as though I'm finally managing to hold a lot of things at arm's length, for at least long enough to get a good's night sleep. Not last night though, I had a sudden attack of feelings and concern. Even though there's nothing that can be done or acted on, especially not at 2AM.

I envy people who do not know hypervigilance.

~~~

I am waking up unsure of what to do with my days and old routines aren't working well anymore. It seems to take a few hours before I am even clear headed enough to know whether I'm having a good day or not. It's probably a good time to try using CPAP again, and/or consider a second trial of Modafanil (the wakefulness drug) although there's quite a bit of medication tweaking going on at the moment with the Crohn's Disease drugs, so perhaps not quite just yet.

Decision making consumes an awful lot of one's quota of beans for the day, so I do need to hit on some basic routine that I can generally expect to manage without fuss, but that is still fulfilling enough that I don't feel empty and bored.

Too muzzy-headed for communication with others. Getting breakfast is okay. Washing is too challenging both physically and in terms of sensory overload, although soaking in the bath might be okay. Dunno really, I guess i'm just going to have to poke at things for a while and see what happens.

~~~

On a cheerful note (not that the other stuff is depressing - I actually feel it's neutral - just news), this business of the Crohn's behaving itself at long last is good fun. I've been eating fruit like it's going out of fashion. And all of a sudden I have found I like apples. And carrots! And I bought some muesli on Friday, two kinds. Plus avocadoes, bananas, grapes, cherries, tomatoes and a cantelope.

Unfortunately I'm probably eating more calories than I'm burning, but I was doing that while on the low-residue diet anyway. At least now I'm getting vitamins and minerals as well.

Oh, and I bought asparagus on Friday as well. My beloved asparagus patch is pretty much at the end of its season but I'm still hankering for it, so I gritted my teeth and bought non-home grown asparagus. But double bonus, I just went outside and found several spears among the ferns that I've allowed to grow that I figured I could safely pick. Heh. So now I have *lots* of asparagus.
splodgenoodles: (Default)
A strange sort of life I lead.

I am back to trying to pace and switch, and trying to work out the best timetable for resting.

...famous last words...

~~~

I've been feeling as though I'm finally managing to hold a lot of things at arm's length, for at least long enough to get a good's night sleep. Not last night though, I had a sudden attack of feelings and concern. Even though there's nothing that can be done or acted on, especially not at 2AM.

I envy people who do not know hypervigilance.

~~~

I am waking up unsure of what to do with my days and old routines aren't working well anymore. It seems to take a few hours before I am even clear headed enough to know whether I'm having a good day or not. It's probably a good time to try using CPAP again, and/or consider a second trial of Modafanil (the wakefulness drug) although there's quite a bit of medication tweaking going on at the moment with the Crohn's Disease drugs, so perhaps not quite just yet.

Decision making consumes an awful lot of one's quota of beans for the day, so I do need to hit on some basic routine that I can generally expect to manage without fuss, but that is still fulfilling enough that I don't feel empty and bored.

Too muzzy-headed for communication with others. Getting breakfast is okay. Washing is too challenging both physically and in terms of sensory overload, although soaking in the bath might be okay. Dunno really, I guess i'm just going to have to poke at things for a while and see what happens.

~~~

On a cheerful note (not that the other stuff is depressing - I actually feel it's neutral - just news), this business of the Crohn's behaving itself at long last is good fun. I've been eating fruit like it's going out of fashion. And all of a sudden I have found I like apples. And carrots! And I bought some muesli on Friday, two kinds. Plus avocadoes, bananas, grapes, cherries, tomatoes and a cantelope.

Unfortunately I'm probably eating more calories than I'm burning, but I was doing that while on the low-residue diet anyway. At least now I'm getting vitamins and minerals as well.

Oh, and I bought asparagus on Friday as well. My beloved asparagus patch is pretty much at the end of its season but I'm still hankering for it, so I gritted my teeth and bought non-home grown asparagus. But double bonus, I just went outside and found several spears among the ferns that I've allowed to grow that I figured I could safely pick. Heh. So now I have *lots* of asparagus.

Sad.

Nov. 7th, 2008 04:27 pm
splodgenoodles: (Default)
Feeling all a bit sad and blue today.

I can think of a few reasons. All of which make perfect sense.

Mostly lately I've felt somewhat at arm's length from the things that have plagued me. It's been great. I suspect it's the Lexapro. Leaves me wondering though, whether it's simply giving me a taste of how normal, non neurotic types go through life or not. Do they have some other way of feeling that I don't have, even with the Lexapro?

And of course, if you take on experiences and make choices because you have that sense of distance and resilience, what happens when you stop taking the drug that allows it?

Anyway. I'm back to feeling too much again. But also feeling like there's things I can't afford to push out of my conscious mind anymore.

So, about the big wide world: is this not scary and horrifying?

From The Age:
Climate change refugees to be resettled in PNG

Posted Wed Nov 5, 2008 5:00pm AEDT

The world's first climate change refugees will be relocated from their Pacific island home to Papua New Guinea by March next year.

The Solomon Islands Broadcasting Corporation says 40 families from north of Ontong Java in the Solomon Island's Malaita Province will be relocated to Bougainville.

Flooding has made parts of their islands completely uninhabitable and the islands are expected to be fully submerged by 2015.

The relocation is estimated to cost the Autonomous Bougainville and PNG Government millions of dollars over the next six years.

One third of the 1,500 residents have refused to leave the islands.


It's real, it's happening and it's happening now. So easy to look at the things immediately around me that might bring me down, yet feel like it's impolite or inappropriate somehow to talk about these bigger issues - too much like talking about politics and maybe it's pointless to talk about stuff you can't control - but what must it feel like to be one of those people? And how wrong is it that we aren't yet doing enough to stop this?

But what's happening in the world is driving me batshit insane and it's not happening out there anymore. It is personal, whether I can influence it or not.

Sad.

Nov. 7th, 2008 04:27 pm
splodgenoodles: (Default)
Feeling all a bit sad and blue today.

I can think of a few reasons. All of which make perfect sense.

Mostly lately I've felt somewhat at arm's length from the things that have plagued me. It's been great. I suspect it's the Lexapro. Leaves me wondering though, whether it's simply giving me a taste of how normal, non neurotic types go through life or not. Do they have some other way of feeling that I don't have, even with the Lexapro?

And of course, if you take on experiences and make choices because you have that sense of distance and resilience, what happens when you stop taking the drug that allows it?

Anyway. I'm back to feeling too much again. But also feeling like there's things I can't afford to push out of my conscious mind anymore.

So, about the big wide world: is this not scary and horrifying?

From The Age:
Climate change refugees to be resettled in PNG

Posted Wed Nov 5, 2008 5:00pm AEDT

The world's first climate change refugees will be relocated from their Pacific island home to Papua New Guinea by March next year.

The Solomon Islands Broadcasting Corporation says 40 families from north of Ontong Java in the Solomon Island's Malaita Province will be relocated to Bougainville.

Flooding has made parts of their islands completely uninhabitable and the islands are expected to be fully submerged by 2015.

The relocation is estimated to cost the Autonomous Bougainville and PNG Government millions of dollars over the next six years.

One third of the 1,500 residents have refused to leave the islands.


It's real, it's happening and it's happening now. So easy to look at the things immediately around me that might bring me down, yet feel like it's impolite or inappropriate somehow to talk about these bigger issues - too much like talking about politics and maybe it's pointless to talk about stuff you can't control - but what must it feel like to be one of those people? And how wrong is it that we aren't yet doing enough to stop this?

But what's happening in the world is driving me batshit insane and it's not happening out there anymore. It is personal, whether I can influence it or not.
splodgenoodles: (Default)
An hour or so ago I wished I was good at crying, unfortunately I'm not.

Instead I was twitchy and wanting to throw a tantrum. It took me a while to twig, but of course I'm off to see the wizard tomorrow (actually, the Inflammatory Bowel Disease research unit). Like it or lump it I will be upset if they send me away with nothing. I want to get well. I want my life to change. And it's unlikely to happen without medical help.

If they can't help me I am expecting them to be nice about it.

A barber's shop quartet as I leave:

Geez bummer, sucks to be yooouuuu
Geez bummer, sucks to be yoouuu


is kind of what I'm expecting.

This has now become an earworm and I've now put in a load of laundry, stacked the dishwasher and started ploughing through my papers with this going through my head.

Usually when I'm being productive round the house it's the "Life. Be In It." theme from the 1970s and 80s (it was a public health campaign promoting things like kite flying and bike riding and watching less telly, the song was great), or the Indiana Jones theme for when I'm really flying. But I'm afraid this is the best I can do right now.


~~~

Of course it's cause for celebration that I _mostly_ find people are nice about it all these days. Mind you, 10B will have my back - people are rarely mean when you've got a supportive husband next to you. (They can still get things wrong, but they watch their words more carefully and are disinclined to try and 'pull rank' on you).

~~~

Further lines for the above ditty would be most acceptable.

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splodgenoodles

June 2017

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