Square one

Yes, yes I know.  I’m not even going to apologise for disappearing for so long.  It happens, that’s all there is to it.  The last couple of months have simply been really, really rough, even in comparison to the normal roughing and toughing it out that’s my life.

The biggest thing – that is, I guess, having a cumulative effect on everything else – is that Tux was made redundant at the beginning of April.  This came as a huge shock;  he went into work on a Monday morning as usual and half an hour into typing up his daily report received a tap on his shoulder from his boss.  Half an hour after that he was being escorted from the building, along with about fifteen others.  (Tux did notice when he came into the office that there were a lot of empty chairs … ) 

So major health emergencies;  financial woes,;  work search;  non-existent IT Job markets, blahness.  Tux took it all pretty hard at first, with me doing the Tower Of Strength thing, taking my turn in being the one being leant on and giving pep talks, keeping spirits up. 

Update March ‘09

Hmmm, yes, well, haven’t written anything here since January (o mea culpa) and while I’ve sat down to post many times the words just haven’t made the transition from brain to keypad.  Let’s face it, it’s been a tough few months and I am not a good conversationalist in these sorts of circumstances.

So … Lashings of pain / health crap / associated unpleasantness, nothing new there but it was really doing my head in, turning it to mush and sparking off other kinds of ickiness.  Item 1:  Early in February (I think) my specialist decided to try me on anti-seizure meds, which are supposed to help with extreme neuropathic pain.  Did they work?  Don’t make me laugh.  After three weeks there’d been no reduction in pain, they induced a really weird and horrible emotional  / mental state, and the worst bit, totally killed off my libido.  This last was the worst;  I wasn’t “only” uninterested in sex / love-making, I couldn’t bear any physical contact at all.  Very, very strange for what is usually a most tactile creature.

Needless to say I chucked the medication but the damage was done;  I was in a fine ol’ state of absolute existential despair and death of joy.   I can’t talk about it because it’s still going on (and on), although slightly reduced in the last couple of weeks, it’s just always there and it’s horrible.  I want to cry like, all the time, and occasionally I succumb but not around Tux because he hates it (because he’s a guy and guys want to fix things and he can’t fix this thing or me) and anyway it’s pointless and I don’t feel any better afterward.  You know how sometimes a good cry can be kind of cleansing?  This aint.

And on top of, or mixed in with all that, is my body, or hormones or biological clock or whatever, is SCREAMING babybabybaby, which is and has always been totally out of the question.  Yes, it’s very sad, and while I’ve always recognised that it wasn’t going to be a possibility for me, knowing I / we can’t have the option of even trying or thinking about options when we’d really like to (because [a] the whole pregnancy thing might kill me or leave me even more disabled; [b] how can I look after an infant when 90% of the time I’m so ill I can barely look after myself?; and [c] what if we had a baby and it had EDS et al which is highly likely, how would I feel?) is really, really hurting just now.  Horribly.  Gah, can’t explain it.

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And THEN, on top of all THAT, are my issues with weight.  I’ve gained so much weight in the last couple of years, due to all the stupid medical procedures (that didn’t work anyway) and medication (ditto) and I can’t fit into the jeans that three years ago I could wriggle out of without undoing the button.  It’s odd, I was always so full of the body-hatred thing, and avoided mirrors and all that, so I have no real idea what I actually looked like, but looking at and measuring my clothes from the 90s and early 00s I was obviously teeny and slender and buff and had a really cute bod.  Now?  Not so much. 

And knowing I look (and FEEL) like a baby hippo is feeding into the despair like so many tributaries into the Amazon . . . And you know, it’s really tricky to get ultra fit and buff and cute again when you spend 90% of your time in bed screaming and crying in pain and being zombied out on Class A drugs (that aren’t even FUN, for feck’s sake like).  So woe is me and all that.  Bleaugghhhhhh.

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So I’m sorry for the doom and gloom;  I’ll try and get up a few harmless fun posts about horses and cats and fitness routines soon to bury this one.  Hang in there.

Apologia on whinging

Regardless of the impression you may get reading my bloggy-thing, I really, truly, honestly, don’t whinge much about health stuff In Real Life!  Mostly it’s just to Tuxedo and he’s aware of what’s going on before I properly vocalise it, due to whimpering and crying during sleep, and the involuntary moans and grunts when I wake up / get out of bed in the morning.  I might catalogue the various aches and pains if asked but he knows me well enough to know what’s going on, without the details.

Then again I sometimes do feel the need to report “well my head is killing me, my neck muscles are in major spasm so I can’t see let alone think properly, I want to scream, my back is totally screwed, even my fecking toenails hurt and I wish I were DEAD”, but it’s more to explain my general demeanour than a whinge about how terrible my life is.

Back in the saddle

After a two week break for school holidays and a nice rest for the gee-gees, RDA commenced Term 4 this week.  Wheeeeeeee.  The two week horsey-less hiatus was hellish, health-wise [but gee can I ever alliterate] so I was incredibly happy and bouncy to get out there for my first lesson on Tuesday afternoon.

Yay;  horsies!  I was so pleased to see my cranky pony again.  I gave him an extra-long grooming and he positively gleamed!  He’s lost the last of his winter fuzz and is sporting a sleek summer outfit.  Well, except for the thick 50 cm long mane and ground-brushing tailio … He went beautifully for me, so responsive and very full of zip.  Heaven.  Sue [coach] kept the lesson very slow and steady, so I wouldn’t over-do things after the break, but I was champing at the bit as much as L. 

Lucky me, though;  Marie – the other coach – let me stay on for another 15 minutes or so after the lesson, while getting the other riders off and the next class on, so I sneaked in some extended trot and serpentines, whee!  L. was just waiting for me to ask for a canter but I didn’t want to push my luck . . . After that Marie got me to help hose down L. and a couple of the other horses, it being a very hot day and everyone sweating. 

Hosing the horses down was fun; one of them really loved it and was bending his head into the spray and slurping out of the nozzle; L. being a big girl’s blouse danced around on his toes going “nooooo! Am a delicate princess!  Don’t let that scary water-snakey-thing near me aaiiieeeee” before giving up and standing with his head down like a fat old cart-horse.  And of course Marie and I did not get into a water fight, with hoses and buckets of water and sponges flying, I deny the mere suggestion!

Ahhh crap cont’d

Oh joy, the crap doth continue.  Briefly, the last couple of weeks have been spent in recuperation from the recent gastrointestinal party and other fun stuff.  The results of all the tests were mostly totally normal – which is wonderful, how often do I hear that something about my body or brain is “normal”?  Also a massive relief of course – but on the flip side, no idea as to the cause of the commotion.  Possibly something liver-ish, which wouldn’t surprise me.  So we battle on.

Ahhh, crap

Hell yeah, just what I needed  -  another major health crisis. 

Horse riding as therapy

You know, I had a couple of non-horsey, food-related posts lined up, but couldn’t get excited enough.  Sure, finally finding The Secret to the most amazing, never-fail, heavenly fried rice [with char siew aka Chinese BBQ Pork mmm] is quite exciting, but my head is full of horseyhorseyhorseyhorsey and nothing aint gonna get done nohow until I clear some space in my brain.

Depressing thoughts

There have been a lot of articles and studies reported lately, regarding anti-depressant medications – SSRIs* in particular – over-prescription of such medication, and efficacy thereof.

*  SSRIs = Selective Serotonin Re-uptake Inhibitors; a class of anti-depressants that increases the levels of the neurotransmitter serotonin.  Basically [very basically!], increased levels of serotonin improves sense of well-being, activity levels, social confidence.  Brand names include Prozac, Seroxat, Efexor.

For the record I should state that I’m very much in favour of the use of SSRIs for the treatment of depression. 

Hi-Yo Silver, awaaaaay

Well I’m back – not that I’ve actually been anywhere; the last few weeks have been pretty bad health/pain-wise [as in, worse than the usual status quo “bad”] and I haven’t felt much like posting.  Time spent at the laptop has mostly been aimless web-surfing and drooling over yummy food I don’t have the energy or appetite to make. 

Also desperately craving … well various other things.  When one is in so much pain one can’t bear to be touched, certain activities become quite impossible.  You know, like opening screw-top jars and scrubbing the kitchen floor, things like that.  Things that give me pleasure and are fun and … ahhh feck it; you know, I really can’t include scrubbing the kitchen floor in that group, not even to maintain a weak analogy.

So life has been a bit tough of late, and I’ve been pretty depressed about everything … Well to be honest I’m pretty much always a bit depressed, it’s impossible not to be when circumstances and consequences thereof are so beyond my control and I’m always in screaming pain, but there are times when my strength to deal with it and keep myself “up” simply fails and I fall in an emotionally wobbly heap.  Life is just not fair.

Brain dump

Well the last couple of months have been a bit of a write-off, really.  I had a heap of posts planned for July and August, and see, none of them made it.  Not for want of trying, mind you.  We’ve all been sick, really really really sick.  Tuxedo; the cats; me.  The whole process has been very distressing, tedious and exhausting.  Hopefully we’re all the mend now.

Tuxedo got a nasty ‘flu sometime in July, which developed into an even nastier chest infection, and looked like heading toward pneumonia.  He was off work for two whole weeks, and took another two-three weeks to recover completely, with multiple courses of antibiotics and trips to the doc.  It was definitely the sickest that I’ve ever seen, and the sickest he’s been since childhood, so pretty damn awful.  I did my best to nurse him – and I’m a damn good nurse, plenty of practice! – which I believe helped, but there was plenty of other stuff going on too.

Namely, the kitties.  Yes, cats plural.  We returned from our holiday over at Rotto on 23 June, and on 24 June collected our new baby cat from the airport where he’d arrived all the way from his breeder in Sydney.  He’s a Maine Coon just like Aoife, in fact he’s her full brother; same parents but a different mating.  They’re about six months apart; not what the breeder was intending but the mother cat is a trollop and got out just when she shouldn’t have.  His name is Ruadhàn Tighearnach (pronounced Roo-ahn Teer-nakh, yes another unpronounceable Gaelic name), he’s a red silver tabby with white trim – feet tummy etc – and is exceedingly cute and pretty.  More on him another time.