Tuesday the 3rd of July 2018
Thank fuck, I made it, it’s the end of Tuesday… it’s taken AGES to arrive. It’s been an utterly strange and depressing few days, so I’ll apologise now because I suspect this will be all over the place. In some ways I’ve made headway in treatment, but I’ve taken a long and painful road to get there.
So last time I wrote I was telling you about my daft rash and my lock jaw and that I was going to the docs because enough was fucking enough. Well, I did, I went yesterday because when I woke up it was all pretty horrific and I was majorly fucked off with it all so rather than doing what I always do (talking myself into thinking it’ll be better “tomorrow”), I manned the fucked up and went and got seen. As always the doc was great, she listened and she wanted to help in any way she could but of course her hands are pretty tied. There’s nothing medically that can be done except to keep me as comfortable as possible throughout the journey. She confirmed the rash was just a general rash and that my jaw is in fact probably part of the M.E. bag of shite; something I suspected, especially given some of the messages I’ve had from you crowd since the last blog was posted (thank you to everyone who got in touch, appreciate your concern). It’s not unusual for M.E. (and other chronic illness sufferers) to get something called TMJ which basically can affect the join and the muscles around the jaw. It’ll calm down but now I’ve had one flare up I’m likely to have another further down the line. Fucking joy. So, given that she could see how much pain I was in we spoke about pain relief and I explained that the Tramadol wasn’t really touching what was going on with anything; my bones are as sore, and now my fucking jaw has joined the party to make me the coolest Popeye in town. I was really honest with her – I’m going down hill physically rather than improving and I know she can’t stop that but I need to be able to control it a bit better. So…. I’m now on Gabapentin, it’s primarily an epilepsy drug. There’s loads of science behind the reasons she’s prescribed it, summit to do with nerve endings and cognitive function so it makes sense I guess and I can see from reading up that it’s not uncommon to prescribe it for M.E. but I’m pretty wary about it. One of the most common side effects is weight gain, or an increase in appetite I should say. Now, I don’t eat a huge amount in a day so I’m hoping that even if I need to eat more, it can still be of the right sort of food and it won’t ultimately affect my weight loss… but who knows? I’d be gutted to turn into a fat bastard again but if there’s even a tiny hope that it’ll bring me some relief then I guess I need to try; because this, my darlings, this is no fucking life to be living, it’s soul destroying. I tell you what though, there must be some serious stuff going on in these drugs because it’s not one of these tablets I need to take “every 4 hours”, I have a full blown bastarding schedule from the docs – look:
I’m on day 2 obvs so I’ve popped one at 8am and am waiting until bed time rolls around to take the other. I can’t say I’m noticing any difference at the minute, well other than the nightmares I was having last night but that’s maybe because Eli woke up screaming at half one and then took until 3 to settle again… he’s the gift that keeps on giving that one. Fucker. My jaw feels slightly easier and that could be as a result of these, or it could be because it was going to get there itself. I have no idea, and I try not to be too hyper aware of these things (oh the fucking irony in that when my body is falling to bits). The second dose today is due at 10 but here’s no chance I’ll be awake at that time so it’ll need to be 9…. I can’t think that my brain will explode changing it by an hour, but if it does, you can all have my strawberry plants in my will… you’re welcome.
See you scoff, but actually, the strawbs are coming on grand, in fact the whole garden is. I popped some pics up for the Facebook crew yesterday here’s some for the WordPress gang.
It’s been a right blessing has the garden, and the good weather too in fact, the last few days because I’ve been able to do piss all. Literally nowt. I’ve had no energy and if I hadn’t had Eli I would have undoubtedly either been in bed, or laid out here sleeping. So it was good to have a space where Eli could play and that I could chill out; I get so fucked off looking at the same four walls all the time. I did have grand ideas about going to a park and letting him run but thought better of it when I needed to rest after going up the stairs… pathetic.
Yesterday being confined to home was actually fine, because karma had decided to gift me the kindest, calmest wee boy who was intent on looking after me and bringing me fake cups of tea. He was content to occupy himself and although he was bit of a cock about nap time, he made up for it by leaving me in peace to either potter about outside, or watch endless episodes of Paw Patrol – he was a gem and I was utterly utterly grateful.
Fast forward to today and karma, well, she’s fucked me over. (I’m saying she, because it’s all far too manipulative to be a bloke.) Eli has been horrendous…. because of reasons… unknown. It may be because he’s knackered after last nights antics but it could so easily be general unrest at the state of Brexit (who could blame him). I have no idea. I give none of the fucks about finding out because quite frankly, a kid who does not want to be in a paddling pool on a hot sunny day is not worth reasoning with. It’s bastarding roasting out there so Christiaan decides he’d get the pool all sorted for when he’s done napping – a lovely kind thing to do. Now normally this would be the best news ever but the little fucker started crying when I said we were going outside to play. I practically had to launch him in it to get him started and when he did EVENTUALLY get in, he was in for 7 minutes and wanted to come back out. Where, of course, he got cold and wanted to go indoors. So we went in, got him changed and would he move from the sofa? Would he fuck. He was determined he was watching Paw Patrol and I was just as determined he was getting outside. This is where having a tiny, less reasonable, version of myself bites me in the arse – he’s as stubborn as I am. The only way we would both win was if he could watch Paw Patrol outside…. so I cranked up the iPad and that’s what we did. Well for approx 8 minutes, and then he decided it was shite and he’d go and soak himself at his water table instead. So he was wet, and cold…. AND THE CYCLE FUCKING BEGAN AGAIN. I hope you read this blog when you’re older wee man because I want you to understand just how much of a tit you were (and possibly still are). I managed to keep him out until about 4 in the end before giving in. Anyway, here are some of the Instagram pics which will lie and tell you that I live in glorious harmony with my wombfruit. What a fucking farce….
The first three were from yesterday when I had the perfect child (bar the lack of sleep), the rest are from today when Satan arrived and took over. I haven’t got any pics of me weeping but you get the picture and if not it looked a lot like this:
Probably with more testosterone and facial hair actually.
He’s broken me today and that’s with my mum here for an hour to try and dilute his craziness. I wish to fuck he’d sort it out – this is not what I need when I feel like this but how do you explain that to a toddler? Especially when you’re really aware that he’s not doing half the stuff we COULD be doing if I was well enough to entertain it…. you don’t explain it, you let the guilt at being fucked off build up until eventually you want to scream or punch a granny. It’s a head fuck of a game let me tell you – but I suspect it’s a game that most parents play. I feel guilty for my illness but you can swap that header with a hundred others and we all end up feeling the same frustration at not providing “the perfect life”. Fuck it. I didn’t have the perfect life growing up, far from it, and I’m doing alright. Well if you exclude the chronic illness and swearing….
Today had started so well though you know. Eli had his first ever dentist appointment, which I’ll admit, I was nervous about because, well you know how he reacts to the hairdressers but you know what? He was an absolute star. After whining at the build up watching me get poked and prodded (not easy or recommended with a fucked jaw, but she can do a better check up than the doc) he sat on the chair no problem at all and let the dentist do her thing. His favourite bit about going? The giant teeth in the waiting room.
We almost had a paddy when he had to leave them. Why the fuck anyone would want a set of giant teeth to play with is beyond me but the dentist assures me all the kids love them, in fact they love them so much that the little bastards keep stealing the big fucking toothbrush that goes with them. Who even does that? If you’re local and you’ve let your kid do that you deserve teabagging by a thousand sweaty pensioners in your sleep. Some people really have no morals; it makes my tits itch.
So the dentist went well and when we got home we had a wee welcoming committee in the form of Davie, Agnes and wee Seamus staring at us from the flat roof. Wee Seamus is actually getting to be a bigger boy now; we know this by the incessant fucking whining that he does day and night and also by the kinds of debris that has now been deposited on our steps from the roof. He’s clearly moved on from regurgitated fish to some quality shellfish and I’m guessing it’s only a matter of time before he twats me with a lobster or summit stupid. It’ll not be long till he leaves the nest now I don’t think, and then we’ll have to deal with him being all aggro on the pavements until he learns that people and cars can do more damage than his pissy beak can. I swear the balls on these birds when they first start learning are massive; they have no fear… which is unfortunate because having survived all of the dangers in the nest the number of them that lose arguments with volvo’s is pretty upsetting.
The state of that roof makes my teeth itch – especially given the thousands of pounds we paid only a few years ago for it to be replaced. There’s shite everywhere, quite literally. I hope to fuck it washes off with the rain or I’m going to need to go up and clean it.
So, there you go, you’re up to speed. It’s been a shitty couple of days, and I can’t pretend I’ve enjoyed gritting my teeth (well not so much… not with a fucked jaw) and getting through it but I’ve managed and I now have the rest of the week to try and get myself in a better place. The doc and I are talking again on the 16th, firstly to review my progress on the pills and secondly because I mentioned going back to work and she looked at me like I was planning on scaling Everest in a bikini. I know it’s out of reach right now, but there’s nowt stopping me hoping that the new meds will take some pain away which HAS to make me feel a bit less knackered and a bit more clear… right?
For now though, I’m off. I’m sat in bed writing this and looking at a gorgeous night out there. In another life Christiaan and I would arse a bottle of wine and some ciders out there, but tonight…. I’ll be cuddling down and hoping to fuck tomorrow is better.
- Solo parenting – done!
- Another 2.5lb shifted this week so a total of 3 stone 9.5 gone which means I’m on the countdown to 4 stone. End of July for that maybe?
- It’s under 2 weeks now until Christiaans folks come for a week – we get on great and I’m really looking forward to seeing them and watching them with Eli.
- I have new pain meds, and am full of hope and wonder at the outcome of these marvellous chemically bastards
- Tomorrow I can rest properly
- I’m feeling grim… really grim
- A bad night last night, between Eli being up in the night and taking ages to settle and my nightmares I feel kind of on edge … I hate bad dreams
- Eli has been an utter challenge today and nursery time can’t come quick enough
- I missed writing again last night… which fucks me off no end.
- What’s on the menu Mellars?
- Breakfast – Raspberries, apple and yoghurt
- Lunch – Negative – I didn’t feel like having any
- Dinner – Pulled pork made left over from Sunday with spicy rice and salad. It was nice actually
Are you new round here?
If you’ve just stumbled across TryingToDoItAll and have no bastarding idea what’s going on you should probably go back and read a few blogs from the beginning. Don’t panic, I won’t ask you to read them all, but these few posts will help explain. Oh stop sighing, it’ll only take you a few minutes. Fucks sake.
- Well you’re here, so you may as well get comfy
- Can’t stop M.E. now…. ahmm having such a good time, ahmm tickling your balllssss!
- When are the grown ups coming?
- Major surgery…again?
- You’ve got to be kidding M.E.?
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ME Blogger extraordinaire… not really