Stunning Lack of Confidence
Yesterday was a good day. Ronnie had a rare day off, and we mainly stayed in bed and watched TV and movies and generally had a lovely relaxing time. Sadly, it was over all too soon and we're back to the real world, such as it is...
When Ronnie took my sick-note into work today she was told that due to my extended illness basically over-running my probationary period my case was being referred to HR. And that filled me with panic. I automatically and immediately assumed that whatever HR decided would not only be to my detriment, but it would be unfair. It seems unlikely that they will decide to get rid of me now, so close to my return date (not to mention it being fairly illegal to do so) and having gone to such lengths to look after me and stay in touch with me so far, but that's exactly what I assume they'll do. It got me wondering why I would assume such a thing, and it seems to be something that I do fairly consistently. Any time somebody has to make a decision I assume it will go against me, that it will be unfair and that I won't be able to do anything about it. Not only that but I also seem to assume that no matter what task I undertake I will fail, and even if I succeed my results will only just be tolerable with much I could do better. Have I always been like this? Is it a result of my illness and my bodies current unreliability, or have I always been so bumbling, self-effacing and apologetic? All I know is that it's bloody annoying, and I'm gonna make an effort to stop it, right now! Be confident dammit!
I've got a database to work on/create, so I better get movin'.
Randomly Assembled
After Thursdays insanely bad weather, Friday and Saturday have been like summer days, albeit in the middle of January. There's a little part of me that thinks the weather is reacting to my mood and reflecting my happiness. There is another much larger and more logical part of me which thinks that two summer days in the middle of January is an obvious sign of global warning, and can in no way be construed a "good thing".
I didn't do much yesterday to be honest, just toodled about and basked in my relief. Then in the evening Ronnie made me a lovely little indoor picnic to celebrate my good news, although as she pointed out it actually gets us no closer to finding out what
is wrong. Still, I'll take almost anything that's not a brain tumor, eh?
Today was another shiny happy day, and we went looking for new glasses for Ronnie. This was a more time-consuming task than either of us had anticipated, perhaps because her family optician
really didn't have anything she liked, but she somehow felt she'd be letting folk down if she didn't choose from their range. Luckily she gave up in the end, and promptly found a pair that she simply wouldn't put down, and refused to go look anywhere else because they were the ones! And she got a second pair free, a pair that will be sun-glasses (even though the opticians stress that they really aren't).
Archie hasn't been at all happy with his new diet again. In fact this morning he gave me such a look, almost like he was being insulted with the pathetic fare I laid before him. He'd actually eaten quite a lot of his diet food, like he thought that might somehow be the key to getting his real food back, and when I placed another identical bowl of it before him this morning he looked so hurt and confused that I wanted to weep. Yesterday we even caught him on top of the fence looking into next door's garden, as though he was considering auditioning a new family who'd feed him properly. This evening though he got to have some tuna mixed into the crunchies (so we could hide his meds) and when he realised what I was giving him he wouldn't leave me alone, even stopping every few paces on the way to make sure I hadn't decided to switch bowls, or that I'd just forgotten what I was doing and just wandered off randomly. Unsurprisingly he's already eaten every morsel that was in the dish, and it's barely been two hours since I gave it to him! But tomorrow morning I know I'm gonna get the look again, no matter how many times I tell him it's for his own good!
I Feel A Woo Comin' On
Just got back from the docs. Got my sicknote, and more importantly, got the results of my MRI scan.
All clear!
That's the best news
ever.
Woo!
There it was.
Yummy Pizza, But Doomsday Closer
The pizza went really well. I liked it anyway, so I'll definitely be making more (if only for me!). It was surprisingly easy and inexpensive to do too, makes you wonder how pizza restaurants get away with selling these things for a tenner (or more!) a shot.
Archie
really didn't like his food yesterday, but as I type he's actually eating some of it, so maybe he's just giving in and accepting that this is how it is for a while. Poor little fluff.
There's some mad shit going on in the news at the moment. In Sony's continued effort to destroy their gaming division they've re-assessed the European price of the still delayed PS3, and decided to make it even
more expensive. Clearly they think Europe is a continent dusted with a light covering of silver, where we all sit on our (very uncomfortable) diamond sofas eating nuggets of gold off platinum plates. They are very mistaken, at least in this house they are. So, really that's just more of Sony's bullshit. More seriously the Doomsday clock was moved forward two minutes yesterday, making it now at five to midnight, which is basically time to say a last goodbye to everyone you liked 'cos it's nearly all over. More interestingly yesterdays move was the first one not caused by political tension or nuclear proliferation, but by climate change. in utterly bizarre news, something that's happening in the Celebrity Big Brother house is causing something of an international incident. Now Big Brother is a hateful thing, celebrating the most pitiful of human specimens and reducing our collective IQs with every second of it's miserable coverage, and "Celebrity" Big Brother is arguably worse. At the moment are suffering the unedifying spectacle of huge amounts of casual racism from British contestants towards an Indian celeb. Now I hate racism in all it's forms, but in a lot of ways the unthinking, "oh it's okay everybody does it around here" bullshit of casual racism is one that I find particularly offensive and try to challenge at every opportunity. This however isn't something that's just being confined to British TV though. It is unfortunately coinciding with our government visiting India in an attempt to strengthen trade links, and it's becoming something of a problem, with ministers being questioned over Britain's apparently racist attitudes. We can only hope that a few arseholes who shoulda been drowned at birth don't wreck relations with a potential trading partner, eh?
This afternoon I have to go to the doctors and get my sick note reviewed, hopefully for the last time! As per usual I worry that I'll be told I'm fine, even though I know I'm not. But I am getting there, and I hope I will be fine soon! That'd be nice, eh?
Cat On A Diet
Don't really know what to say about the past few days.
We're about as poor as we could ever be, having literally no money even for food let alone anything else. Ronnie's almost at the point of exhaustion, Archie is grumbling about his new low fat diet and me... well we'll get to me later.
I'm trying hard to do things, often just little things, around the house to let Ronnie know how much she is loved and how much I appreciate everything she's had to do in the past few months to keep us afloat. And I've been doing a lot of cooking, trying to make things from scratch to make the best use of the resources we have. I thought my macaroni cheese was particularly yummy, even if I do say so myself. The apple and raspberry crumble let the side down a little though, too much crumble and not enough apple and raspberry. Tonight I will experiment with home made pizza dough!
Poor little Archie isn't happy about his new diet, bless him. Try and explain as I might, he doesn't understand at all. He just purrs and burbles to himself. Then he looks at his food bowl, and looks at you as if to say "Why are you giving me this? Aren't I a good cat? Where's the food I had last week, the stuff that I liked?" Still, it's only been a few days, so maybe he'll get used to it. At least he ate some of it yesterday, today he hasn't even touched it!
As for me, well I'm doing okay, considering. Mainly I'm just feeling all guilty that I'm the cause of all this, when there's almost nothing I can do to make it better, I just have to sit and wait. My sicknote runs out tomorrow, but I've already been forbidden from returning to work so close to getting my results and a proper diagnosis, and that's probably for the best. After all, it wouldn't do anybody any good if I go back to work on Friday and give myself a relapse 'cos I'm doing the one thing I really shouldn't be doing, whatever that may be. I've looked into homeworking as some sort of way to make a few pennies and have some useful input, but frankly homeworking seems a lot more hassle than it's worth. All I need is a short term job for a couple of weeks, something I can do in a few spare hours a day, but with no overwhelming pressure or commitment, and that sort of thing really doesn't seem to exist. The nearest I can find is for newspaper or leaflet delivery, and that whole "walking about" thing is the one thing I can't do with any degree of reliability. So in the meantime I'm trying to build up a level of fitness again, hunting for recipes for things to cook for dinner, and trying to learn about databases. Keeps me out of trouble, eh?
It Ain't Over 'til It's Over
I don't know why Rocky V generates such disrespect, in many ways it's a solid return to form after the cartoon excess of Rocky IV. Admittedly continuity wise it has issues (it picks up right after Rocky IV, in true Rocky style, but upon returning home not only does he live in a different house, but his son must be a good five years older. Oh yeah, and he's bankrupt), but the story itself makes sense and has the heart that you'd expect. But there's better to come...
Rocky Balboa was just beautiful, a perfect send off for the character. And I do feel genuinely sad that I'll never see the big lug again, even though his story will last forever on DVD (or at least as long as DVDs last). It's nice to see what's happened to him in the last fifteen years, and whilst it's not all been good by any means, he still retains that essential kindness that makes him who he is. The world has changed and left him behind, which I think is something that's pretty easy to relate to these days, when you can go to sleep on the cutting edge and wake up obsolete the next morning, and on top of that he's lost Adrian. So he's just going through the motions, trying to make it through each day, trying to work out what to do with his life... Needless to say, boxing comes into it! I don't know what else to say, except that I really enjoyed it, and the finale brought tears to my eyes. I've said it before, and I'll say it again; there is something oddly inspirational about Rocky. Don't know why, and I wouldn't care to analyse it for fear of breaking it.
I've lost so much in the past six months. Hopefully not things I can't get back again, but important things that I hope I won't take for granted again. My health, my mind, my mobility, my ability to work and earn money, my independance, my sense of balance(!), so many of the things that make you who you are, they all just fell away from me one morning back in August like I was shedding a skin. Bits and pieces of me and growing back now, I'm finally starting to be myself again, and whilst I'm afraid of what'll happen when it's time for me to go back into the world, I'm also really excited about it, and like Rocky said, I always try a little harder when I'm afraid. I want my life back, and I'd like it back soon please, without too many scratches or dents on it. I'm not done with it yet, not nearly.
Not All Rocky Movies Are Created Equal
Okay, so Rocky IV isn't uplifting at all.
Ronnie's tired and went to bed early, leaving me to just kinda... sit and stew on the thoughts in my head, none of which are good. So I thought I'd use my Rocky Therapy again, but of course now I'm up to number four and it just doesn't work as well. Maybe it's the lack of Bill Conti's score, maybe the fact that it's essentially two fights and a massive (and nonsensical) training montage... but somehow the movie that seems to be a big favourite with some people is to me the weakest of the lot (so far, still got to see Rocky V and Rocky Balboa). I think perhaps the problem is simply a lack of emotional connection: I know Apollo is his best friend, and it's clearly terrible that he dies, but I never really feel that we're at the heart of Rocky's motivation for the fight. Revenge isn't it, revenge isn't nearly enough, but what is it? What is it that makes him push himself harder and further than ever before? I don't know, and I think that's where the film falls down for me. Oddly I end up feeling sorry for Drago, 'cos as it becomes apparent that no matter what he does Rocky simply won't stay down everyone turns against him; the fight audience, his trainer, the politburo, even his wife! But yeah, I just don't get the inspirational buzz from this one, because I simply don't connect with Rocky's struggle here. It didn't make me feel happier at all! Ah well, the first three are bloody genius though, and what a theme!
So here I am, feeling oddly lonely considering I'm in a house with the best girlfriend ever, and our fluffy little cat. I guess it just goes to show that the loneliest place to be is trapped inside your own head.
Bad Day At Black Rock
Today's not been a good day.
Started with a phone call from my credit card company accusing me of running away and hiding from them, and demanding a payment or I'd be referred to a debt collection agency. Admittedly I haven't thought a great deal about them for the past six months, what with everything else that's been going on, but prior to that I'd done everything humanly possible to inform them of my change of address and had never once missed a payment, and they just didn't seem to ever process it! Apparently the branch failed to action it last time I informed them (second time of asking, after they'd frozen all my accounts 'cos they'd screwed it up first time!), and resultantly I haven't had a credit card bill in months, and to be honest they were the last thing on my mind. Anyway, I explained all this to the person I was on the phone with, and to be honest they were very nice and understanding about it. Apparently they'd got my mobile number from some sort of detection agency, but they
still had the wrong bloody address! This is the bit that's really bizarre though, when I said I'd changed my details in my local branch, the woman on the other end of the phone said "hang on a sec, let me check that" and had the correct address in about half a second! Why they couldn't have got this shit right months ago is beyond me, but it wasn't a fun way to start the day, and left me a little shaken.
Then I had a letter from the hospital.
Not a bad letter, not a good letter, just a letter informing me that three weeks today I'd be seeing my consultant for the results of my MRI scan. That's it. Just the envelope itself freaked me out though before I'd even opened it, my mind rushing ahead to all the things that could possibly be in it (although I don't imagine for a second that the NHS sends out letters that say "Yeah dude, brain tumour, bad luck."). On top of that I'd dreamt I had a brain tumour last night (yeah, fun dream actually, although even in the middle of it I questioned the wisdom of tempting fate with such a speculation), so I was ripe with worry. And all it tells me is when I get to see my consultant again. But it shook me, and I've not really got my head back in the right space since. I'll settle down though, I guess.
I watched Rocky III (it's where I am in the series) as a sort of reminder of life, and an inspiration, and it was pretty succesful. I love the Rocky movies, even though I'm sure they really aren't very good (with the possible exception of the first one, which is), and I couldn't even begin to tell you
why I like them, what it is about them that kinda makes you think you can do anything after you've watched them.
Bloody hell that was a long sentence. I'm fairly certain it doesn't make much sense either. Ah well.
So yeah, there we go. Pretty unpleasant, freaky sort of day. Brrrrrrrrr. Hopefully things will settle down tonight/tomorrow.
It's Shortbread! No, You Try It First...
Well, I didn't try making shortbread until just now (it's not yet in the oven), but I have to say that somehow it doesn't seem quite right. The recipe was all of three sentences long, so it's entirely possible that there's something I don't know about there, something that a more experienced baker would already know about without being told. Ah well, the proof is in the pudding, as they say.
Today's not been a good day; I've spent the morning being depressed/worried about my test results again. Goodness knows why I'm worrying, that won't change anything, but I suppose it's only natural when you're at such a potential crossroads. Ronnie used her old psychic ability to sense when I was sad, and sent me a funny text message, which cheered me up and which in turn made Archie come and snuggle up on the bed with me, being all purry and affectionate. He probably only wanted to play, but that doesn't change the fact that it was good timing and it
felt like he wanted me to be happy. In fact he's sitting on the windowsill just next to me as I type, watching intently. After that I watched Rocky II, and about three-ish finally started having a proper day.
Okay, time to go put that potential shortbread/goo in the oven! Wonder what it'll come out like?
...
time passes while blogger is "unavailable"
...
Actually the shortbread came out pretty well. I think it would've benefited from being cut into shapes
before baking, but it's still pretty tasty. So I'm quite pleased with that.
I'm less pleased with everything else though. Ronnie seems so tired and disheartened, and there seems to be very little I can do to make it better, apart from getting better myself, which is somewhat out of my control.
That said, a rational analysis of my well-being actually seems to be being pretty well, so maybe (hopefully!) a return to work is on the cards in the next few weeks. I am tired a lot of the time, but that might just be due to a general lack of activity over the past six months (yeah, it's really been that long - the end of the summer, the whole of autumn are just missing from my memory, I've really got very little idea of what, if anything, happened in those periods, but at least I remember Christmas and New Years!), and I do worry about what's wrong with me, but those are minor issues I think. Well, the what's wrong with me part isn't exactly minor, but the worrying about it is. Overall however, I think I'm feeling a lot more like me again; I can think and talk (although I still forget words occasionally), I'm dizzy and unstable much less of the time... and of course I have my meds and a walking stick, so I can at least cope with it! Maybe we're getting somewhere. I'll admit she's not the only one it'd do some good; I'm going crazy being stuck at home, being useless, being a burden and I think that might be a good sign...
Run, Run As Fast As You Can!
I'm not hoovering the living room because Archie is all curled up and snoozing on the sofa, and I don't want to disturb him. That's probably a pitiful excuse, but it's raining and miserable outside so there's nowhere else for him to go, and he's so peaceful and cute and cuddly. I'll finish cleaning up later, when he's wandering about and being a nuisance.
I decided to bake some ginger biscuits while Ronnie was at work this weekend, and much to my surprise they came out looking (and tasting) like... well, ginger biscuits really! See how yummy they look? Actually that photo makes them look a little burnt, and they really aren't at all. I might try shortbread later on this afternoon.
What else has happened? Well my Grandma's been in hospital 'cos she had blood clots in her leg, although she's now home safe and sound, and... it has rained... and me and Ronnie have had another idea for our own business, which seems to be what we aspire to. I'll admit that I've wanted to have my own shop (not that I'm suggesting it
is a shop of any kind, this is just an elliptical thought) for pretty much as long as I've been working, but somehow it'd never occured to me that the way you
get your own shop is that you just kinda decide that you want one, and you work out the details and then you convince a few people that your details are right and there you are, standing in your own shop. So that's pretty cool.
Health-wise I've not been feeling too bad today, although last night I just had constant dreams about the dread results of my scan, and I wonder how I'd cope if it actually were bad news. It almost seems ridiculous to dismiss the idea out of hand, 'cos there clearly is something wrong with me (although noticeably less wrong than it was), but I have no idea how you mentally prepare yourself to hear the results of an MRI scan. Blindly assuming that there's nothing serious wrong with you, when something is clearly not working just doesn't seem to me to be at all the way to go...
Finally here's a pic of my outfit for New Years eve. I'm not wearing my ridiculous false beard in this one (which is a shame really, 'cos it was
really ridiculous), but you'll notice (because I'm telling you to) my bow-tie. This is a real bow-tie, none of your elastic nonsense, although it did take me two days to learn how to tie is succesfully, and I've not been able to replicate the feat since. Still, it looked pretty good while it lasted, eh?
Yuck
Ronnie went back to work today, which was rubbish. It's been so nice having her around for the past week or so, but now it's back to boring lonely days with nothing to do. Ah well, with a bit of luck I'll be going back to work soon, and then it won't matter so much. Except poor little Archie will be all lonely. I suppose on the plus side is the fact that I've felt so shockingly dizzy and unwell that I haven't even been out of bed for all that long, and even when I have been out of bed I've mainly just been sitting down feeling unwell. Ho hum.
MRI
Well, there we go, that's that done.
For all the worrying, sleeplessness and bad dreams (when I got to sleep, that is), it was never the test itself which was worrying me, but the results of the test, and how the test itself sort of represents the first steps on a path that could lead to very bad news... Still the test itself was fine. I had four quick scans (two at 1o seconds apiece, and one each at 150 seconds, one at 240 seconds) and I actually found the process oddly relaxing. Although you are completely enclosed in the machine, the lack of distraction and overwhelming noise is actually very relaxing; the noise being so loud that you almost fall into it, and are embraced by it, if that makes sense. Plus they give you headphones so you can listen to the radio if you like! So yeah, I quite enjoyed the test actually, and now I just have to wait three or so weeks for the results, and that's the scary part!
We also got the report for my employers today, and we gave that a swift once over, just to make sure it wasn't saying anything unpleasant. Actually that was a surprise as well, 'cos reading it I got the impression that Dr Trounce was far more concerned than he'd been letting on, but then I guess that's what doctors are supposed to do eh?
We had been planning on maybe going to the movies after all this, but Ronnie's flu is still getting the better of her, so we came back home and she's been in bed for the rest of the afternoon, while I've been pottering about, feeding everyone, tidying up and finally having a little play on LEGO Star Wars II! 'Tis happy indeed.
Unable To Express Self
There are probably a ton of things I should be writing about first, like New Years, our costumes, Lisa's birthday or Ronnie's flu, but right now I'm worrying about tomorrow and my MRI.
I'm not worried about the test itself, I don't have to do anything but lie still and have electromagnetic waves pass through my head (and I do
that all the time), it's the results I'm worried about and I won't get those for ages. It's not like it's a huge, overwhelming worry, just a quite solitary one at the back of my head that repeatedly asks '
what if somethings wrong?'. It is a possibility, that's why I'm having the test in the first place. I don't know... anything. I don't know how to express the odd feeling of helplessness I have right now, just sitting and waiting to see what (if anything) is wrong. This post isn't really making things any clearer either. I suppose what it boils down to is this: I could be very sick, and I'm worried about it.
That wasn't so hard after all, was it? I'll stop now.
