Gone but not forgotten, yeah?
There's just no words to explain what you feel when you loose a Cfer. So...
For Jo, Phil and Court. And everyone else.
Wednesday, 25 November 2009
Monday, 23 November 2009
Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrghhhhh.
I'm pissed off with CF.
BIG TIME.
It's painful to find out that another person has lost the battle. Or that they've made the decision to go with dignity b/c they've fought all they can.
When I find things like this out, I react in two ways: I either get upset (obviously, which is understandable and how you'd expect people to react anyway) or I bottle it up. And I don't think about it. I try and keep busy with pointless stuff. And then when you're not expecting it, *boom* it all washes over you and you realise the truth.
And no amount of ignoring it, trying to pretend its not real, can fix it.
No matter how hard you try.
And then there's other people. Those who are waiting for the call that'll change their life. And it's painful to hear about how hard things are for them. But they're the strongest people you can know. And all you can do is hope they get that call in time.
I just.... I wish I could fix this.
BIG TIME.
It's painful to find out that another person has lost the battle. Or that they've made the decision to go with dignity b/c they've fought all they can.
When I find things like this out, I react in two ways: I either get upset (obviously, which is understandable and how you'd expect people to react anyway) or I bottle it up. And I don't think about it. I try and keep busy with pointless stuff. And then when you're not expecting it, *boom* it all washes over you and you realise the truth.
And no amount of ignoring it, trying to pretend its not real, can fix it.
No matter how hard you try.
And then there's other people. Those who are waiting for the call that'll change their life. And it's painful to hear about how hard things are for them. But they're the strongest people you can know. And all you can do is hope they get that call in time.
I just.... I wish I could fix this.
Friday, 20 November 2009
The kindness of strangers.
I have a whole separate folder in my email inbox full of emails that people have sent me - people who have found my blog and decided to write to me to tell me a range of things from their own experience of a subject I've written about to the fact that they think I'm an inspiration.
It's weird how people can think things like that over a little place where I go to vent.
As kind as I think it is for people to email me with thoughts like this, and as much as it makes me smile, I don't believe I am an inspiration in anyway. I know so many other Cfers (or various other crapped out lung people) who have done more than me, who are a hell of a lot nicer than me and have more interesting stories to tell.
The other week, at college, I was talking to a friend and we were on facebook. She pointed out a girl in her friends, and said 'She has CF.' I said 'Oh yeah, I've got that too' and she was surprised, but as she already knew some stuff about it, wasn't as shocked as others have been in the past - it's an easy thing to hide most times, unless you walk about wearing a sandwich board saying 'I have CF'. We were talking about what I have to do in order to stay relatively healthy, and she said said 'Oh, that must me tough.' Its not. But at the same time, it can be. What I mean is, the daily things, taking nebs and 30 odd tablets and doing physio and having several fucking coughing fits a day (many of which are caused by the fact that Kate makes me laugh too much) these things are part of my life, and they have been for years. I suppose if I ever had the chance to stop needing to do these things, it would be annoying and/or difficult to get back into the whack of getting used to it, but at the moment, its just stuff I have to do.
It's funny but I've never told anyone in my family that I blog. I don't know why. Maybe I just don't think they'd 'get' it. Like how only people who've had pleurisy can understand how painful it can get, or how people with hearing loss can understand how isolating it can feel. Unfortunately, I've got both of these on top of CF. And whilst I know there's people out there dealing with much harder stuff, I think I'm coping ok for an 18 yr old. Not to say I'm 100% all of the time, but I don't think anyone could be. I guess sometimes you have to vent and get upset once or twice b/c otherwise you just end up breaking down at some point. Which I will admit, I've done.
Oh someone shut me up. I've rambled to hell and back. Basically this: keep the emails coming, I love them :)
It's weird how people can think things like that over a little place where I go to vent.
As kind as I think it is for people to email me with thoughts like this, and as much as it makes me smile, I don't believe I am an inspiration in anyway. I know so many other Cfers (or various other crapped out lung people) who have done more than me, who are a hell of a lot nicer than me and have more interesting stories to tell.
The other week, at college, I was talking to a friend and we were on facebook. She pointed out a girl in her friends, and said 'She has CF.' I said 'Oh yeah, I've got that too' and she was surprised, but as she already knew some stuff about it, wasn't as shocked as others have been in the past - it's an easy thing to hide most times, unless you walk about wearing a sandwich board saying 'I have CF'. We were talking about what I have to do in order to stay relatively healthy, and she said said 'Oh, that must me tough.' Its not. But at the same time, it can be. What I mean is, the daily things, taking nebs and 30 odd tablets and doing physio and having several fucking coughing fits a day (many of which are caused by the fact that Kate makes me laugh too much) these things are part of my life, and they have been for years. I suppose if I ever had the chance to stop needing to do these things, it would be annoying and/or difficult to get back into the whack of getting used to it, but at the moment, its just stuff I have to do.
It's funny but I've never told anyone in my family that I blog. I don't know why. Maybe I just don't think they'd 'get' it. Like how only people who've had pleurisy can understand how painful it can get, or how people with hearing loss can understand how isolating it can feel. Unfortunately, I've got both of these on top of CF. And whilst I know there's people out there dealing with much harder stuff, I think I'm coping ok for an 18 yr old. Not to say I'm 100% all of the time, but I don't think anyone could be. I guess sometimes you have to vent and get upset once or twice b/c otherwise you just end up breaking down at some point. Which I will admit, I've done.
Oh someone shut me up. I've rambled to hell and back. Basically this: keep the emails coming, I love them :)
Monday, 16 November 2009
Writer's block.
Or is it blogger's block in this case? Either way it sounds stupid. But [obviously] it means I can't think of a thing to blog about. There's nothing interesting about how I've got another cold, or how I've sat at home doing naff all b/c I'm lazy.
My Dad tried to explain film cameras to me again, and showed me how to use the flash gun for it too, but in all honesty, I was incredibly uninterested. I don't think its the cold - I just really hate film cameras when I can use digital. I don't agree with darkrooms (I stand about like a total pleb b/c I can't hear what my friends are saying, and my job is the shortest job of the lot and takes about a minute.) and to be perfectly honest, film cameras hate me. They utterly perplex me.
I think I've accomplished a lot today, which surprised me given the total lack of energy. I've done a few loads of laundry, the proper way by separating stuff, so things like my jeans don't ruin my hoodie (I love my hoodie!) and folded everything, made my own lunch (and we all know how tempting it is to just sit and whine for someone else to make it when you've got 0 energy, but I hauled ass to the kitchen anyway. I would have made breakfast too but I slept in till 12.30) sorted out some college work, attempted to fathom my film camera before my Dad helped and tidied the sitting room. This is all probably b/c I've drank several fortijuices and an enshake in an attempt to have enough energy to stay sitting up. (Which I fail at. A few times I gave up and just decided to lie on the floor in front of the electric fire.)
Oh and my painkillers have finally kicked in. I've had a wicked headache all day and painkillers never work on me until about 2 hours later b/c obviously they hate me too. Which is why I never relent to painkillers for pleurisy b/c they NEVER work. And that's not for lack of trying. When I ended up in hospital from pleurisy they had me drugged up on some pretty strong stuff, and I was probably a bit lucid for the day but I was still in pain. And its been the same way everytime I do crack and dig out painkillers.
I will admit that I haven't done nebs for the past two nights b/c it just hurts my throat too much, but I told Kate I would tonight. Kate has her own blog too, and whilst she doesn't have CF, she has PF. I will admit we talk on msn, webcams on, WAY too much, but it's still fun. B/c she lives in the US, I'm usually her personal alarm clock via facebook. B/c that's obviously how the cool kids do things now-a-days.
(I had to write the above bit b/c I've been wanting to blog all day and all yesterday, and as you can gather from the title, I had nothing to say. So she said 'Blog about me'. I have no idea why that is everyone's response but it's always a place to start I guess.)
Oh well. At least I finally wrote something.
My Dad tried to explain film cameras to me again, and showed me how to use the flash gun for it too, but in all honesty, I was incredibly uninterested. I don't think its the cold - I just really hate film cameras when I can use digital. I don't agree with darkrooms (I stand about like a total pleb b/c I can't hear what my friends are saying, and my job is the shortest job of the lot and takes about a minute.) and to be perfectly honest, film cameras hate me. They utterly perplex me.
I think I've accomplished a lot today, which surprised me given the total lack of energy. I've done a few loads of laundry, the proper way by separating stuff, so things like my jeans don't ruin my hoodie (I love my hoodie!) and folded everything, made my own lunch (and we all know how tempting it is to just sit and whine for someone else to make it when you've got 0 energy, but I hauled ass to the kitchen anyway. I would have made breakfast too but I slept in till 12.30) sorted out some college work, attempted to fathom my film camera before my Dad helped and tidied the sitting room. This is all probably b/c I've drank several fortijuices and an enshake in an attempt to have enough energy to stay sitting up. (Which I fail at. A few times I gave up and just decided to lie on the floor in front of the electric fire.)
Oh and my painkillers have finally kicked in. I've had a wicked headache all day and painkillers never work on me until about 2 hours later b/c obviously they hate me too. Which is why I never relent to painkillers for pleurisy b/c they NEVER work. And that's not for lack of trying. When I ended up in hospital from pleurisy they had me drugged up on some pretty strong stuff, and I was probably a bit lucid for the day but I was still in pain. And its been the same way everytime I do crack and dig out painkillers.
I will admit that I haven't done nebs for the past two nights b/c it just hurts my throat too much, but I told Kate I would tonight. Kate has her own blog too, and whilst she doesn't have CF, she has PF. I will admit we talk on msn, webcams on, WAY too much, but it's still fun. B/c she lives in the US, I'm usually her personal alarm clock via facebook. B/c that's obviously how the cool kids do things now-a-days.
(I had to write the above bit b/c I've been wanting to blog all day and all yesterday, and as you can gather from the title, I had nothing to say. So she said 'Blog about me'. I have no idea why that is everyone's response but it's always a place to start I guess.)
Oh well. At least I finally wrote something.
Tuesday, 10 November 2009
Buses are fun.
I mentioned in the last post I went out on Saturday night. Now, I'm usually still quite good with remembering my meds, even when I've been out, but last week I totally forgot once I'd gotten home. Which means I totally broke my several month streak of never missing morning meds.
Fuck. I was proud of that.
The guy on the forum still won't piss off. Grr. It's so annoying as he doesn't even talk about anything to do with CF. When people ask him why in the hell is he on a forum relating to CF, he says 'My mate has CF' and then bangs on about whatever crap it is at the moment. So yes, homicide is looking ever appealing now. That guy clearly brings out the worst in me. I'm not usually this pissed at someone I don't even know.
I started swimming last week. I sort of underestimated how much effort goes into swimming. Like I've said before, it's been years since I actually went swimming that wasn't on holiday, and the first length in the pool practically wrecked me. When I was younger, I could do several lengths without stopping (although I went swimming every week back then, I didn't just randomly jump in the pool and shoot off) and halfway through the first length, I had to stop and hold onto the side railings whilst I registered that this wasn't going to be as simple as I thought. (I said to my Mum afterwards 'I'd forgotten how much effort goes into swimming. I thought it was just floating about a bit'. She laughed.)
Anyway, even though the first length took a lot out of me, with a few rests I managed to knock the tally up to 10 lengths. Which I'm quite proud of. I don't know when I'll next be going swimming but I know once a week is a good place to start, and then twice a week. To be honest, I can go whenever I like given my free swimming in public times.
I went to town today and discovered the following things when I had a coughing fit (b/c I'm that classy)..
*Yes, I'm coughing
*Yes, it does 'sound nasty'
*Yes, it's rude to stare, and I'm very aware of it
*No, I don't think you've 'had what I've got'
*No, I don't have swine flu and the people overreacting from my cough really do piss me off
*Yes, if you don't leave me alone I'll spork out your eyes. I just need to find a spork first, b/c they're pretty nifty.
Any CFer (or crappy lunged person) can sympathise with those things. People always stare when you have a coughing fit. A lot of people get the remark 'Oh, you should stop smoking' but I've never had that, maybe b/c I look like a kid, but then again, I've seen a stupid amount of kids who smoke.
On the bus on the way back, it was packed, so I had to stand. But I'm ok with that as all the old people and pushchairs need the room anyway. Something tells me all the 30-something perfectly healthy workers and business people who had seats of their own were just too rude to give up a seat for little me, but then again, you can't see my CF unless I decide to have a coughing fit there and then and pretend to cough, choke, splutter and practically die all over them in order to get a seat. Which is just too much trouble.
Something that is much better, however, is that I got my DLA into my account. A few weeks ago I got on at my Mum that she was still getting my DLA and I should get it now that I'm 18. So she phoned up the people and they had a mini shit-fit b/c they 'weren't sure' whether I was capable of having it going into my own account rather than my parents. So they sent a form round and I filled it in. And they finally got round to checking it and deciding that I can have my DLA .Which is why I had to haul my arse up to town and suffer the bus: to find a hole in the wall and get my mini statement to see if I got anything deposited into my (pretty empty since I bought my camera and laptop) bank account.
Anyway, yay. I've got nothing else to write but wanted to blog. And I'm sure that once I've posted this I'll think of something else to write. But sod it.
Fuck. I was proud of that.
The guy on the forum still won't piss off. Grr. It's so annoying as he doesn't even talk about anything to do with CF. When people ask him why in the hell is he on a forum relating to CF, he says 'My mate has CF' and then bangs on about whatever crap it is at the moment. So yes, homicide is looking ever appealing now. That guy clearly brings out the worst in me. I'm not usually this pissed at someone I don't even know.
I started swimming last week. I sort of underestimated how much effort goes into swimming. Like I've said before, it's been years since I actually went swimming that wasn't on holiday, and the first length in the pool practically wrecked me. When I was younger, I could do several lengths without stopping (although I went swimming every week back then, I didn't just randomly jump in the pool and shoot off) and halfway through the first length, I had to stop and hold onto the side railings whilst I registered that this wasn't going to be as simple as I thought. (I said to my Mum afterwards 'I'd forgotten how much effort goes into swimming. I thought it was just floating about a bit'. She laughed.)
Anyway, even though the first length took a lot out of me, with a few rests I managed to knock the tally up to 10 lengths. Which I'm quite proud of. I don't know when I'll next be going swimming but I know once a week is a good place to start, and then twice a week. To be honest, I can go whenever I like given my free swimming in public times.
I went to town today and discovered the following things when I had a coughing fit (b/c I'm that classy)..
*Yes, I'm coughing
*Yes, it does 'sound nasty'
*Yes, it's rude to stare, and I'm very aware of it
*No, I don't think you've 'had what I've got'
*No, I don't have swine flu and the people overreacting from my cough really do piss me off
*Yes, if you don't leave me alone I'll spork out your eyes. I just need to find a spork first, b/c they're pretty nifty.
Any CFer (or crappy lunged person) can sympathise with those things. People always stare when you have a coughing fit. A lot of people get the remark 'Oh, you should stop smoking' but I've never had that, maybe b/c I look like a kid, but then again, I've seen a stupid amount of kids who smoke.
On the bus on the way back, it was packed, so I had to stand. But I'm ok with that as all the old people and pushchairs need the room anyway. Something tells me all the 30-something perfectly healthy workers and business people who had seats of their own were just too rude to give up a seat for little me, but then again, you can't see my CF unless I decide to have a coughing fit there and then and pretend to cough, choke, splutter and practically die all over them in order to get a seat. Which is just too much trouble.
Something that is much better, however, is that I got my DLA into my account. A few weeks ago I got on at my Mum that she was still getting my DLA and I should get it now that I'm 18. So she phoned up the people and they had a mini shit-fit b/c they 'weren't sure' whether I was capable of having it going into my own account rather than my parents. So they sent a form round and I filled it in. And they finally got round to checking it and deciding that I can have my DLA .Which is why I had to haul my arse up to town and suffer the bus: to find a hole in the wall and get my mini statement to see if I got anything deposited into my (pretty empty since I bought my camera and laptop) bank account.
Anyway, yay. I've got nothing else to write but wanted to blog. And I'm sure that once I've posted this I'll think of something else to write. But sod it.
Sunday, 8 November 2009
Why you shouldn't give some people the time of day...
Anyone who goes on the UK CF forum knows that there's been a bit of... how would you put it... excitement the past few days. By the by, I'm not writing this to piss people off, I'm writing it b/c I want to and b/c bugger all else worth blogging about has happened.
And to be honest, to hell with it and I'm gonna blog about it b/c the main person involved probably wouldn't set anywhere near this blog should he think I've rigged his computer to explode or something.
Some people just take paranoia to bullshit levels.
Anyhoo, so this person wanders in, saying he has a friend with CF. Fair enough, I've seen people post in the past maybe asking questions about CF as their friend/boyfriend/girlfriend/complete stranger has CF, and they want to understand more or... whatever. But this guy asks questions completely unrelated to CF, which begs the question why didn't he go onto a forum more related to his problems.
All in all, arguments ensued and caused several threads to be locked due to everyone (including the Mods) getting severely pissed off. As it started on Friday, and I was at work that day, I missed the majority of it and when I checked the forums after getting home, I wondered what the fuck had gone on. In one day, this guy had managed to post like 30 times and get two threads locked. And then another thread had started up and the first post I made was to ask a mod to lock this thread too as even though I'd been reading for about 5 minutes, I already knew it was out of hand.
I got a cocky half arsed reply from the trouble maker saying something about if I'm gonna keep getting all the threads locked b/c I don't like what he says, it's my problem. Which proceeded to baffle me b/c if the fuckwit could learn to read, it was my first post in the whole thing and he was the one causing the arguments thus leading the mods to get all trigger happy with the 'lock thread' button. Oh, and if he could read, he would have spelt people's names correctly. (For god's sake, my name on the forum is Meggzzie, not Meggazie. And spelling mistakes really piss me off!)
The second reply I wrote was along the lines of 'Mods, please, or else I could actually kill this guy' which I believe is a perfectly acceptable response to some guy who continues to piss you and many others off. Funnily enough, he practically crapped himself in worry that some 5ft 18year old is gonna set out into the night after him, welding a meat cleaver, and he mentioned that if he showed that comment to the police, I'd be in big trouble. Which leads me to imagine, if he ever overheard someone say a comment like (in a jokey way) 'I could kill you for that' or anything along those lines, he'd clearly panic and trot off to the police station.
I mean, come on dude, strap on a pair or else we're gonna think its your time of the month or something.
Honestly. Fucking people sometimes.
So, the fact remains that there's someone somewhere quaking in his boots b/c of an offhand comment I made. It would actually be fairly amusing if he DID go to the police and say 'Um, so there's this 18yr old girl on a CF forum who says she wants to kill me...' (never mind the fact that I don't know where he lives and frankly, I'm quite happy not knowing).
I'm glad that people on the forums stood up for themselves and told him where to go, b/c otherwise he probably would have stayed around and asked other pointless and irritating things. He's said about 5 or 6 times that he's leaving the forum and then he comes back on and starts another fucking argument. So I'm sure I'm not alone in being driven to the brink of insanity by people like that.
On a brighter note, I didn't go mad from it all as I went out on Saturday night to the Hexham bonfire. Is it typical that for half of it I was standing behind the one 7ft person there? Of course it is. But fireworks are in the sky, not on the ground, so it didn't matter. After the bonfire I went to find my friends and a few of us had a good night going to the pubs and into Donnies. As a lot of our friends are now Uni students, and have probably pissed away half of their student loans in the local bars during fresher's week, not many people did come out with us, but the bars were completely chocka anyway. There was a stupid line to get into the club, longer than it usually is but the world and it's mother seemed to come into Hexham that night and decided to overflow the pubs and bars after the fireworks. We eventually got in and I was reminded why I don't like going out to places with loud music... I can't breathe in there.
I mean, does this happen to everyone with crappy lungs or is it just b/c I'm spectacularly weird like that? I couldn't keep dancing about like my lovely (ahem, drunken) friends for long as my boots were killing my feet and I was seriously not catching my breath. Me and two others found a sofa to collapse on and I left at 2am, which isn't too shabby considering the 8am wake up call I got that morning for college.
Speaking of college, I got my college ID, and I can officially say I have the worst photo ever. When people compare their photos, and they say 'oh, but mine's so crap', I'd think they're lucky they're actually looking at the camera, as smart arse that I am, I'm looking in the wrong direction as the woman who took the picture (on a crappy grainy web cam) spoke when she was taking the bloody thing. And I'm sure it hates me as when I wear the ID (you 'have to have it visible at all times on campus') it flips round so the photo faces to me rather than outwards, like it should.
Oh well. I'm sure it'll just be an interesting talking point.
And to be honest, to hell with it and I'm gonna blog about it b/c the main person involved probably wouldn't set anywhere near this blog should he think I've rigged his computer to explode or something.
Some people just take paranoia to bullshit levels.
Anyhoo, so this person wanders in, saying he has a friend with CF. Fair enough, I've seen people post in the past maybe asking questions about CF as their friend/boyfriend/girlfriend/complete stranger has CF, and they want to understand more or... whatever. But this guy asks questions completely unrelated to CF, which begs the question why didn't he go onto a forum more related to his problems.
All in all, arguments ensued and caused several threads to be locked due to everyone (including the Mods) getting severely pissed off. As it started on Friday, and I was at work that day, I missed the majority of it and when I checked the forums after getting home, I wondered what the fuck had gone on. In one day, this guy had managed to post like 30 times and get two threads locked. And then another thread had started up and the first post I made was to ask a mod to lock this thread too as even though I'd been reading for about 5 minutes, I already knew it was out of hand.
I got a cocky half arsed reply from the trouble maker saying something about if I'm gonna keep getting all the threads locked b/c I don't like what he says, it's my problem. Which proceeded to baffle me b/c if the fuckwit could learn to read, it was my first post in the whole thing and he was the one causing the arguments thus leading the mods to get all trigger happy with the 'lock thread' button. Oh, and if he could read, he would have spelt people's names correctly. (For god's sake, my name on the forum is Meggzzie, not Meggazie. And spelling mistakes really piss me off!)
The second reply I wrote was along the lines of 'Mods, please, or else I could actually kill this guy' which I believe is a perfectly acceptable response to some guy who continues to piss you and many others off. Funnily enough, he practically crapped himself in worry that some 5ft 18year old is gonna set out into the night after him, welding a meat cleaver, and he mentioned that if he showed that comment to the police, I'd be in big trouble. Which leads me to imagine, if he ever overheard someone say a comment like (in a jokey way) 'I could kill you for that' or anything along those lines, he'd clearly panic and trot off to the police station.
I mean, come on dude, strap on a pair or else we're gonna think its your time of the month or something.
Honestly. Fucking people sometimes.
So, the fact remains that there's someone somewhere quaking in his boots b/c of an offhand comment I made. It would actually be fairly amusing if he DID go to the police and say 'Um, so there's this 18yr old girl on a CF forum who says she wants to kill me...' (never mind the fact that I don't know where he lives and frankly, I'm quite happy not knowing).
I'm glad that people on the forums stood up for themselves and told him where to go, b/c otherwise he probably would have stayed around and asked other pointless and irritating things. He's said about 5 or 6 times that he's leaving the forum and then he comes back on and starts another fucking argument. So I'm sure I'm not alone in being driven to the brink of insanity by people like that.
On a brighter note, I didn't go mad from it all as I went out on Saturday night to the Hexham bonfire. Is it typical that for half of it I was standing behind the one 7ft person there? Of course it is. But fireworks are in the sky, not on the ground, so it didn't matter. After the bonfire I went to find my friends and a few of us had a good night going to the pubs and into Donnies. As a lot of our friends are now Uni students, and have probably pissed away half of their student loans in the local bars during fresher's week, not many people did come out with us, but the bars were completely chocka anyway. There was a stupid line to get into the club, longer than it usually is but the world and it's mother seemed to come into Hexham that night and decided to overflow the pubs and bars after the fireworks. We eventually got in and I was reminded why I don't like going out to places with loud music... I can't breathe in there.
I mean, does this happen to everyone with crappy lungs or is it just b/c I'm spectacularly weird like that? I couldn't keep dancing about like my lovely (ahem, drunken) friends for long as my boots were killing my feet and I was seriously not catching my breath. Me and two others found a sofa to collapse on and I left at 2am, which isn't too shabby considering the 8am wake up call I got that morning for college.
Speaking of college, I got my college ID, and I can officially say I have the worst photo ever. When people compare their photos, and they say 'oh, but mine's so crap', I'd think they're lucky they're actually looking at the camera, as smart arse that I am, I'm looking in the wrong direction as the woman who took the picture (on a crappy grainy web cam) spoke when she was taking the bloody thing. And I'm sure it hates me as when I wear the ID (you 'have to have it visible at all times on campus') it flips round so the photo faces to me rather than outwards, like it should.
Oh well. I'm sure it'll just be an interesting talking point.
Wednesday, 4 November 2009
'Yup, you're fucked.'
Pleurisy? Still? This is actually getting ridiculous. All I did was hiccup and it bloody hurt. I'm tired of writing about pleurisy and how my lungs hurt with every other fucking breath and how if pleurisy was a person, I'd like nothing more than to kick it's face in, and run off laughing and skipping knowing that the bugger will leave me alone.
Ok, so maybe that last part is new.
I'm gonna be stuck with it forever. I know it. The other night, I was laughing, and I had to [attempt to] try and stop laughing b/c it really hurt. Some days its bad, but other days it's barely even there, and thus it makes it twice as painful when it comes back. There HAS to be something I can do to get rid of it. I'm not pleading for more IVs b/c frankly, I'm too afraid I'll become resistant to them when I'm not technically ill, I'm just in agony when I hiccup, or laugh, or obviously if I sneeze b/c that pulls at your lung muscles like you wouldn't believe. Pleurisy aside, I hardly have a cough and I went on a walk the other day, armed with my camera as planned, and must have walked for more than an hour. It didn't really wear me out (aside from a massive hill, but that's to be expected) which is a plus, and it's the only exercise I've gotten lately.
My physio disagrees that walking around town and going through all the shops is proper exercise.
Anyway, I think the point I wanted to put forward is that I still feel shit where pleurisy is concerned, even after that mammoth of a walk, but IVs have worked in making me better in general. So... I can and I can't win. Which means I can wrap up this blog entry with...
I REALLY FUCKING HATE PLEURISY.
Um.. yeah. And now I'm sick of complaining. Can someone slap me please?
Ok, so maybe that last part is new.
I'm gonna be stuck with it forever. I know it. The other night, I was laughing, and I had to [attempt to] try and stop laughing b/c it really hurt. Some days its bad, but other days it's barely even there, and thus it makes it twice as painful when it comes back. There HAS to be something I can do to get rid of it. I'm not pleading for more IVs b/c frankly, I'm too afraid I'll become resistant to them when I'm not technically ill, I'm just in agony when I hiccup, or laugh, or obviously if I sneeze b/c that pulls at your lung muscles like you wouldn't believe. Pleurisy aside, I hardly have a cough and I went on a walk the other day, armed with my camera as planned, and must have walked for more than an hour. It didn't really wear me out (aside from a massive hill, but that's to be expected) which is a plus, and it's the only exercise I've gotten lately.
My physio disagrees that walking around town and going through all the shops is proper exercise.
Anyway, I think the point I wanted to put forward is that I still feel shit where pleurisy is concerned, even after that mammoth of a walk, but IVs have worked in making me better in general. So... I can and I can't win. Which means I can wrap up this blog entry with...
I REALLY FUCKING HATE PLEURISY.
Um.. yeah. And now I'm sick of complaining. Can someone slap me please?
Sunday, 1 November 2009
Photo hacking madness.
I utterly love this picture. Mainly b/c of the photoshop job I did on it. But it's my own picture that I took and photohacked it on my own, so hence the fact that I'm 
At college. Yes, I know we were meant to be working but you can only edit 20 something photos for so long. And bear in mind we were sitting in the same place for about 5 hours, and we left an hour early b/c we'd done all the work. We used Macs, and I'm on the fence about those things. Sometimes they're quite fun, easy and simple to use, and other times you want to run to the nearest bridge and drop the fucker off it. Like the time when it took forever to load the facebook page (oh, I'm a student; do you honestly expect me not to go on facebook when presented with a computer to sit in front of for several hours?)
And then there's these ones. I can't decide whether I like the full colour one or the part colour, part black and white. And then I noticed that this blog, and also CF, is sixty five roses. And that this picture is a rose. I'm an idiot. But I love it.
Photo madness aside, very little has been done. I haven't even started swimming yet, which is clearly down to pure laziness. I'm also wanting to go out and take more pictures b/c I'm now addicted to photoshop, despite the fact I'm limited on what I can do on it. I just click about and see what happens, and if I bugger the picture, I just click 'undo'. I didn't even do anything for Halloween. My sister cancelled her party for not feeling in the mood, but I'd decided I'd be too knackered after college to go, even before I knew she'd called it off. Turns out she and some friends had a pretty good night anyway and now have the resulting hangovers to nurse. It would have been funny if I had gone, as I'm at that young age where I can drink stupid amounts and not get a hangover, and thus piss off the other people who DO get hangovers.
Ah, the life of an 18 year old. We're so precious...
I did however talk to some people on a cam chat site thing we've gotten addicted to. It was hilariously funny at some moments, so I'm glad I didn't miss a chance to laugh till my sides hurt.
I'm pretty hopeful that these IVs have actually worked. I do still have pleurisy about b/c it clearly just wont fuck off, and I've no idea why considering that I know other people who've had it and completely gotten rid of it. Even with crappy lungs. At work on Friday I was lifting some boxes about and noticed that it seemed to make me out of breath, which I've not noticed before. But these are pretty much two tonne boxes with a hell of a lot of stuff in. I also noticed I didn't stop to cough, all day. I mean, I did cough in general but I didn't have to stop to sit down and catch my breath before I went a probably very attractive shade of blue...
I was running the other day. I can't remember why, or where to, but I was definitely running. Probably up the stairs to my room. But what I do very clearly remember, is that it didn't wear me out like it has done in the past. Which is always a really good thing.
Wednesday, 28 October 2009
Spaced out.
I mentioned in the last post that I felt kind of edgy. I didn't like feeling like that and annoyingly I felt like that the next night to, cue people asking me to check my blood sugars. Seriously, if I end up with CFRD I may literally throw a massive tantrum. Anyway, I can't check them as I don't have a blood sugar monitory thing. I've got enough medical crap in the house as it is anyway.
It scared me feeling like that, b/c its just not like me. And it can honestly take a lot to scare me, CF wise. The last time I was most likely shit-scared was probably the whole 'pleurisy nightmare '09'. Which is easily justified b/c I was on the verge of suffocating at one point. And before that it was when my lung function had taken a 15-20% drop (luckily, after that I managed to increase the 55% all the way back up to 80+% on more than one occasion).
I hated feeling lost like that though. And both times it happened I was on my own and the house was quiet, so it sort of intensified the feeling. That, and the fact that I can get jumpy in the house at night when it's dark and your own shadow freaks you out. Weirdly enough I don't think I'd feel the same spacey/being on edge feelings if I got out the house. I want to go on another camera mission and just go mental taking pictures as that can always make me feel better. I might go somewhere next week, but I'm quite apprehensive about taking my Nikon out somewhere. With the amount of injuries I do to myself, I just hope it doesn't stretch to my camera (my phone, on the other hand, is an invincible little fuck, who luckily refuses to self destruct whenever I drop it).
My IVs finish tonight, and when I was coughing earlier, I realised it was one of those pointless coughs which means the IVs have definitely worked this time. Which is great, as I was starting to loose my faith in IVs! There's only so many times you can put up with them when they're not doing the job. And now I'm soon to ditch the port needle and can re-start swimming. It's the only thing that is gonna get my lung function back up when I can't run anymore. I never did find out what that stitch thing was, and I'm convinced its some sort of temperamental hernia. I'm honestly falling apart at the seams.
As swimming means getting out the house, which is incredibly appealing when I don't leave for much other than work or college, I can't wait to get started. It's been a seriously long time since I last took a dive into a pool that didn't include catapulting off a water slide. Speaking of college, when I went last Saturday, we started a new project (one project takes about 3-4 weeks). I went round Newcastle with two others, armed with a Nikon D40, from college, as I'd not brought my own camera with me. Which is lucky b/c it began to piss rain the second the teacher said 'go for a walk around Newcastle...'. All we had to do was choose a certain area and take pictures no further than a 5 minute walk in and around that area. We chose central station and got some good pictures around there, through some tunnels and around the Life centre. I know for a fact that if I'd not gone with the two other people I was with, I would have seriously lacked the motivation, as its just not fun to walk through 50 gallons on rain on your own. But with other people with you, it turns into a laugh, and before you know it, you've walked beyond a mile and not even noticed.
By the time I'd gotten back to college (drenched, but happy) I clicked through the camera and saw I'd taken about 50 photos. We only need 24 max, which means I can ditch the pics I'm not too happy with, which is good. There's always one or two pictures that aren't that good, but if its like last time, when we used film, you can't delete any pictures, and once you've taken them, and taken the film out, you can't go back. Being in the darkroom was insane, pitch black, and I did very little considering how useless I am when I can't hear people (Ok, so I could hear them, but I couldn't understand them. My hearing is so fucking confusing).
Blah. I've got nothing else to write. But for that last post, I'd barely written anything and then wrote something like 'Oh well, no news is good news' which seemed to trigger the edgy feeling. So nothing worth writing about may have happened, but I'm damned if I'm writing that phrase again.
It scared me feeling like that, b/c its just not like me. And it can honestly take a lot to scare me, CF wise. The last time I was most likely shit-scared was probably the whole 'pleurisy nightmare '09'. Which is easily justified b/c I was on the verge of suffocating at one point. And before that it was when my lung function had taken a 15-20% drop (luckily, after that I managed to increase the 55% all the way back up to 80+% on more than one occasion).
I hated feeling lost like that though. And both times it happened I was on my own and the house was quiet, so it sort of intensified the feeling. That, and the fact that I can get jumpy in the house at night when it's dark and your own shadow freaks you out. Weirdly enough I don't think I'd feel the same spacey/being on edge feelings if I got out the house. I want to go on another camera mission and just go mental taking pictures as that can always make me feel better. I might go somewhere next week, but I'm quite apprehensive about taking my Nikon out somewhere. With the amount of injuries I do to myself, I just hope it doesn't stretch to my camera (my phone, on the other hand, is an invincible little fuck, who luckily refuses to self destruct whenever I drop it).
My IVs finish tonight, and when I was coughing earlier, I realised it was one of those pointless coughs which means the IVs have definitely worked this time. Which is great, as I was starting to loose my faith in IVs! There's only so many times you can put up with them when they're not doing the job. And now I'm soon to ditch the port needle and can re-start swimming. It's the only thing that is gonna get my lung function back up when I can't run anymore. I never did find out what that stitch thing was, and I'm convinced its some sort of temperamental hernia. I'm honestly falling apart at the seams.
As swimming means getting out the house, which is incredibly appealing when I don't leave for much other than work or college, I can't wait to get started. It's been a seriously long time since I last took a dive into a pool that didn't include catapulting off a water slide. Speaking of college, when I went last Saturday, we started a new project (one project takes about 3-4 weeks). I went round Newcastle with two others, armed with a Nikon D40, from college, as I'd not brought my own camera with me. Which is lucky b/c it began to piss rain the second the teacher said 'go for a walk around Newcastle...'. All we had to do was choose a certain area and take pictures no further than a 5 minute walk in and around that area. We chose central station and got some good pictures around there, through some tunnels and around the Life centre. I know for a fact that if I'd not gone with the two other people I was with, I would have seriously lacked the motivation, as its just not fun to walk through 50 gallons on rain on your own. But with other people with you, it turns into a laugh, and before you know it, you've walked beyond a mile and not even noticed.
By the time I'd gotten back to college (drenched, but happy) I clicked through the camera and saw I'd taken about 50 photos. We only need 24 max, which means I can ditch the pics I'm not too happy with, which is good. There's always one or two pictures that aren't that good, but if its like last time, when we used film, you can't delete any pictures, and once you've taken them, and taken the film out, you can't go back. Being in the darkroom was insane, pitch black, and I did very little considering how useless I am when I can't hear people (Ok, so I could hear them, but I couldn't understand them. My hearing is so fucking confusing).
Blah. I've got nothing else to write. But for that last post, I'd barely written anything and then wrote something like 'Oh well, no news is good news' which seemed to trigger the edgy feeling. So nothing worth writing about may have happened, but I'm damned if I'm writing that phrase again.
Saturday, 24 October 2009
Not a hypochondriac, just clumsy.
Majority of IVs done, 4 days to go, and many more injuries acquired since I last blogged.
I am a walking injury.
Only I can manage to practically skin my knuckle when replacing an attachment of the hoover. And b/c of the fun-ness of IVs mean that you have to use heparin after each dose (the stuff that stops clots forming in the line/port/whatever) I bled for ages afterwards. B/c I'm a clear winner. Plus I almost chopped another finger off as I was designated the fun task of smashing melted candles to bits to remove them from the stupidly shaped vase they were in. When will people learn that I can practically render myself A+E bound with even the simplest tasks, so handing me a knife and a load of vases with melted candles stuck inside, is hardly the smartest thing for me to do.
As for IVs, this might actually be the fasted two week dose ever. It could be b/c since my last dose and before this one started, I was remembering what it was like to have a line in my hand or wrist, and I remembered what painful little bastards they were, and then when you get IVs in a port again, its odd b/c you don't feel IVs in a port. Unless you've just taken them out the fridge, and it feels like ice water going through your veins. Which happens to be quite nice on a hot day :)
I'm trying to remember if I've done much this week. Or, besides work and college, if I've done anything. Or left the house for anything. And I clearly have a tres boring life b/c I've realised that I haven't. Bright side, I'm going to my sister's Halloween party next week, I have the added joy of the flu jab sometime next week too (normal jab, not swine flu) and I get to see all my lovely friendies when I go to bonfire night on 7th November (yes, yes, I know bonfire night is actually the 5th, but the 7th is the nearest Saturday. So shush) and that night will see my friends attempt to get me into the one and only (and apparently incredibly crap) club in Hexham. I'd rather just be in the bar and get smashed, but hell, I'm seeing people I haven't seen in months. So bring it.
Ah. At the moment, I feel kinda on edge. Its hard to describe. I've done nothing to warrant feeling like this, but I don't feel what can be classified as 'normal'. I think I feel jumpy, in a way. It can't be IV side effects as they usually wear off long ago (i.e. after the first/second day IVs start) and even then its just tingly hands/drunk walking. Oddly enough I've continued to have the tingly hands and odd smacking-into-things moments usually for a few hours after my IVs but its not strong and I can usually control myself not to fall up the stairs more than necessary. Where was I? Oh yes, feeling jumpy. Meh, I've no idea what has caused this, but it'd an odd feeling which I hope goes away.
Hopefully it'll be solved by ice cream. And even if it's not, I'm still eating the rest of that tub of strawberry ice cream anyway.
I am a walking injury.
Only I can manage to practically skin my knuckle when replacing an attachment of the hoover. And b/c of the fun-ness of IVs mean that you have to use heparin after each dose (the stuff that stops clots forming in the line/port/whatever) I bled for ages afterwards. B/c I'm a clear winner. Plus I almost chopped another finger off as I was designated the fun task of smashing melted candles to bits to remove them from the stupidly shaped vase they were in. When will people learn that I can practically render myself A+E bound with even the simplest tasks, so handing me a knife and a load of vases with melted candles stuck inside, is hardly the smartest thing for me to do.
As for IVs, this might actually be the fasted two week dose ever. It could be b/c since my last dose and before this one started, I was remembering what it was like to have a line in my hand or wrist, and I remembered what painful little bastards they were, and then when you get IVs in a port again, its odd b/c you don't feel IVs in a port. Unless you've just taken them out the fridge, and it feels like ice water going through your veins. Which happens to be quite nice on a hot day :)
I'm trying to remember if I've done much this week. Or, besides work and college, if I've done anything. Or left the house for anything. And I clearly have a tres boring life b/c I've realised that I haven't. Bright side, I'm going to my sister's Halloween party next week, I have the added joy of the flu jab sometime next week too (normal jab, not swine flu) and I get to see all my lovely friendies when I go to bonfire night on 7th November (yes, yes, I know bonfire night is actually the 5th, but the 7th is the nearest Saturday. So shush) and that night will see my friends attempt to get me into the one and only (and apparently incredibly crap) club in Hexham. I'd rather just be in the bar and get smashed, but hell, I'm seeing people I haven't seen in months. So bring it.
Ah. At the moment, I feel kinda on edge. Its hard to describe. I've done nothing to warrant feeling like this, but I don't feel what can be classified as 'normal'. I think I feel jumpy, in a way. It can't be IV side effects as they usually wear off long ago (i.e. after the first/second day IVs start) and even then its just tingly hands/drunk walking. Oddly enough I've continued to have the tingly hands and odd smacking-into-things moments usually for a few hours after my IVs but its not strong and I can usually control myself not to fall up the stairs more than necessary. Where was I? Oh yes, feeling jumpy. Meh, I've no idea what has caused this, but it'd an odd feeling which I hope goes away.
Hopefully it'll be solved by ice cream. And even if it's not, I'm still eating the rest of that tub of strawberry ice cream anyway.
Monday, 19 October 2009
It's a spatula thing.
Ok, so good news... Hopefully these IVs will actually just be for my usual 2 weeks rather than the 3 weeks, b/c at clinic I gained weight (as usual. Not as in put on a whole tonne, but gained a respectable amount, which I'm getting good at these days) and my PFTs are stable. I'm slightly worried that these 'stable' PFTs are staying in the mid-60's when I've had them in the 70's and 80's in the past year.
Hmm. But I'm still hell bent on improving them. My physio suggested I start swimming, which I'm going to. Unfortunately I have the craving to go swimming now, and with a port needle in, that's sort of out of the question. But the second I get it out, I'll hop on the bus and make a (probably knackering) walk to the pools. She suggested it as swimming is 'brilliant' for your lungs, and I admittedly haven't been in a while. I used to swim every Friday night, and now it's more or less just swimming in the pool when we go on holiday. But at least when I do get my port needle out and I do get my arse back to swimming, I won't be thrashing about like a new born seal, and I'll be making lengths in a kick ass way like I used to.
Even after I slipped on the edge of the pool and ended up with a scar on my chin. (And I still don't know what the hell happened that night to be honest).
Oh, I've just found out I can get free swimming at the local pool until I'm 19. Score.
I escaped work unscathed on Friday, and fell over at college on Saturday. I was picking up my pen that had escaped across the floor, twisted round and landed on my arse. Ow! Luckily there's no major injuries this week. I did fall up the stairs a few times whilst waiting for the side effects from colistin to wear off, but to be honest, its no more than on a usual day. These side effects seem to only be on the second day of starting my IVs, each time I've had colistin, which causes the oh-so-fun drunk walking. But the good thing is, these side effects are getting less and less with each time I have that antibiotic. Which is great b/c I get to reap the benefits of Colistin without feeling like crap anymore. Walking into things and having the slightest headache, I can deal with, especially as it goes away the next day. Having those side effects in three-fold on the first time I ever had IV colistin, not fun. But I still felt ridiculously better afterwards.
I wish I could say I've done something exciting, but I really haven't. I suppose the highlight was college, as I love it. Coming in a close second was getting the IVs. Which seems kinda sad, but I have no life. Haha. I like seeing the nurses and I quite enjoy the IV pole skating whilst waiting for my hours worth of IVs to go through, as I always get the first dose started at clinic, and it's always in the IV gravity bag things. Luckily at home its one syringe and one intimate thing.
For the Heparin flush, my hospital generally uses the brand that comes in a purple box which has an image of a hand with a canula in it. I've forgotten what the proper brand name for that stuff is, and we don't have any lying about in the house, as I can't use that stuff (I'm getting to it... hold your horses.) Anyhoo. As I said, I can't use this stuff as it causes the tinnitus in my ears to go really really loud, and I get a headache from it. Eventually, the hospital decided to change the brand just for me (as in, they go to more trouble when ordering my IVs and such to make sure I get the right brand of heparin, rather than just getting the usual generic stuff they give to everyone else) and now I use a brand called Canusal. This stuff does the same job (it prevents clots in a line or port) but without wicked headaches or louder ringing in my ears.
I'd put links to show what the brand/box of the different heparins look like, only google is tres unco-operative and doesn't actually have an image of either box.
Funnily enough, the company which sends me my IVs sent me the 'wrong' brand of heparin (I've no idea how they managed to cock that up considering its stressed on the order form which the nurse sends out) but it didn't matter much - we've always got extra stock piled from my last IVs that there's enough should there ever be a heparin emergency. Anyhow, so there was more than enough to last for a couple of days, before the delivery people sent round more canusal and picked up the other stuff.
I consider that quite funny, but then again, I'm weird like that sometimes.
Right, I'm off *waves spatula*
... yeah, a little inside joke for those UK CF forum peoples. I love them like that :)
Hmm. But I'm still hell bent on improving them. My physio suggested I start swimming, which I'm going to. Unfortunately I have the craving to go swimming now, and with a port needle in, that's sort of out of the question. But the second I get it out, I'll hop on the bus and make a (probably knackering) walk to the pools. She suggested it as swimming is 'brilliant' for your lungs, and I admittedly haven't been in a while. I used to swim every Friday night, and now it's more or less just swimming in the pool when we go on holiday. But at least when I do get my port needle out and I do get my arse back to swimming, I won't be thrashing about like a new born seal, and I'll be making lengths in a kick ass way like I used to.
Even after I slipped on the edge of the pool and ended up with a scar on my chin. (And I still don't know what the hell happened that night to be honest).
Oh, I've just found out I can get free swimming at the local pool until I'm 19. Score.
I escaped work unscathed on Friday, and fell over at college on Saturday. I was picking up my pen that had escaped across the floor, twisted round and landed on my arse. Ow! Luckily there's no major injuries this week. I did fall up the stairs a few times whilst waiting for the side effects from colistin to wear off, but to be honest, its no more than on a usual day. These side effects seem to only be on the second day of starting my IVs, each time I've had colistin, which causes the oh-so-fun drunk walking. But the good thing is, these side effects are getting less and less with each time I have that antibiotic. Which is great b/c I get to reap the benefits of Colistin without feeling like crap anymore. Walking into things and having the slightest headache, I can deal with, especially as it goes away the next day. Having those side effects in three-fold on the first time I ever had IV colistin, not fun. But I still felt ridiculously better afterwards.
I wish I could say I've done something exciting, but I really haven't. I suppose the highlight was college, as I love it. Coming in a close second was getting the IVs. Which seems kinda sad, but I have no life. Haha. I like seeing the nurses and I quite enjoy the IV pole skating whilst waiting for my hours worth of IVs to go through, as I always get the first dose started at clinic, and it's always in the IV gravity bag things. Luckily at home its one syringe and one intimate thing.
For the Heparin flush, my hospital generally uses the brand that comes in a purple box which has an image of a hand with a canula in it. I've forgotten what the proper brand name for that stuff is, and we don't have any lying about in the house, as I can't use that stuff (I'm getting to it... hold your horses.) Anyhoo. As I said, I can't use this stuff as it causes the tinnitus in my ears to go really really loud, and I get a headache from it. Eventually, the hospital decided to change the brand just for me (as in, they go to more trouble when ordering my IVs and such to make sure I get the right brand of heparin, rather than just getting the usual generic stuff they give to everyone else) and now I use a brand called Canusal. This stuff does the same job (it prevents clots in a line or port) but without wicked headaches or louder ringing in my ears.
I'd put links to show what the brand/box of the different heparins look like, only google is tres unco-operative and doesn't actually have an image of either box.
Funnily enough, the company which sends me my IVs sent me the 'wrong' brand of heparin (I've no idea how they managed to cock that up considering its stressed on the order form which the nurse sends out) but it didn't matter much - we've always got extra stock piled from my last IVs that there's enough should there ever be a heparin emergency. Anyhow, so there was more than enough to last for a couple of days, before the delivery people sent round more canusal and picked up the other stuff.
I consider that quite funny, but then again, I'm weird like that sometimes.
Right, I'm off *waves spatula*
... yeah, a little inside joke for those UK CF forum peoples. I love them like that :)
Wednesday, 14 October 2009
Head injury central.
How many times have I whacked my head?
More than I can count.
The most recent thwack to the head (oh yes, I whacked my head at work again. This time, under the stairs) has made me remember all the past times I've had a bruise/scar/story to tell. I actually have four unrelated to CF scars, one on my chin (when I was 8, when I used to go swimming every Friday. Um, let's just say Iwas an idiot slipped. On the edge of the pool. And I ended up in A+E that night) and 3 on my forehead. These three are all from when I was 3 years old. Obviously I can't remember them, but for some odd reason I do have a fleeting memory of one of them. I can't remember which scar its related to, but I do know I was teetering on the edge of some stone steps, on a tricycle.
Kids take what they watch on TV way to seriously.
I must have seen some idiot going down steps on a bike and thought I'd try and recreate this stunt. Although there were about 6 or 7 steps. Stone steps. And I remember thinking 'Uh... maybe I shouldn't' (although my sister says she was actually the one yelling this to me from the other end of the garden, I specifically remember having doubts about being such a prat). I must have slipped, I do have the feeling I may have tried to go back on the tricycle and instead I went forward, and that's all I remember. Obviously. I was most likely knocked out by this as even if I was 3, there's every chance I'd remember something that traumatic. I have a feeling that the scar above my left eyebrow might be the one that is from this story, as it just looks like it must have been a pretty nasty gash. Or else it'll be the one on the top right corner of my forehead. I have a permanent bump to go with the scar. It's not noticeable but I can feel it if I run my finger over said scar.
I don't know how I did the other two, but one was apparently from a marble fireplace thing, and another way from nursery I think. I remember sitting on a bed in the A+E and my Mum and Dad came in with my favorite teddy, whilst I was getting steri-strips over yet another wallop to the head. Just wrap me in bubble wrap and call it a day, yeah?
Luckily I haven't had any A+E worthy accidents that warrant stitches or steri-strips or whatever other crap they put on you, for a few years now. Not to say I haven't been to A+E since though - whilst I've never actually broken a bone I've had trips to A+E, like when I thought I'd broken my hand or when I almost broke my little toe (that was actually last winter, when a stool came crashing down on my poor little foot when I tripped over my laptop cord.) So yeah, bubble wrap.
The funny thing is that many times when I do hit my head its always on the right side where I have the permanent bump/scar. I suppose making it black and blue would make it more obvious.
Oh and I do actually have another head-injury story. I'm actually surprised I remember so many considering head injury = most likely forgetting the accident (whilst my memory is admittedly crap this might just be a genetic thing and not through my clumsy-ness). When I was 9, me and some friends were sneaking into the woods next to our youth club, as trees, mud and more mud is apparently more fun than inside the youth club. Anyway, we walk across the field and get to a part of the stone wall we can clamber over. When I clambered over, ever the elegant kid I am, one of the massive rocks decided to follow me and whacked the back of my lower head.
Ow.
I must have screamed, b/c everyone stopped and asked what happened, and I don't remember saying anything, but I was conscious. Good thing too. The last thing a bunch of exploring 9 year olds need is someone getting knocked out, without an adult in sight. My friend Lindsay was talking to me, to distract me from the massive throbbing/splitting headache that had for some reason just formed. Yeah, its a mystery that one. But someone else asked if I was ok and I remember, despite saying to me 'You're ok, you're fine' she said to him 'I don't know, she's got a massive bump on the back of her head now'. Whilst we survived the little excursion otherwise unharmed, I was pretty freaked out that night. Probably b/c I'd recently been watching one of those medical dramas (probably 'Holby City') and some guy ended up brain dead after hitting his head on some concrete. I probably should have remembered the part where he'd fallen about 20ft, or the fact that he'd been knocked out. Or the fact that it was a completely scripted drama.
But then again, rational thinking goes out of the window with me, fairly often.
On a completely different note, I've been blogging for a year this week. To be specific, a year on Saturday. I vaguely remember deciding to start the whole thing. I was probably in a Health and Social care lesson, where we did bugger all (and miraculously still passed that class) and I was reading a blog at the time. Then I decided to click 'Create Blog' in the right hand top corner and that was me started off. I did actually write a pretty piss poor post to start with, which I soon chucked out and started again. Overall I'm glad I started this blog b/c I've met a lot of new people, and very nice people at that. I've also gotten loads of lovely comments and emails and I'm even good friends with a few people that I wouldn't otherwise know.
And in the words of Bree, Happy blogiversary to me :) (This girl sure is getting a lot of mention these days. Maybe I should start charging for advertisement...!)
More than I can count.
The most recent thwack to the head (oh yes, I whacked my head at work again. This time, under the stairs) has made me remember all the past times I've had a bruise/scar/story to tell. I actually have four unrelated to CF scars, one on my chin (when I was 8, when I used to go swimming every Friday. Um, let's just say I
Kids take what they watch on TV way to seriously.
I must have seen some idiot going down steps on a bike and thought I'd try and recreate this stunt. Although there were about 6 or 7 steps. Stone steps. And I remember thinking 'Uh... maybe I shouldn't' (although my sister says she was actually the one yelling this to me from the other end of the garden, I specifically remember having doubts about being such a prat). I must have slipped, I do have the feeling I may have tried to go back on the tricycle and instead I went forward, and that's all I remember. Obviously. I was most likely knocked out by this as even if I was 3, there's every chance I'd remember something that traumatic. I have a feeling that the scar above my left eyebrow might be the one that is from this story, as it just looks like it must have been a pretty nasty gash. Or else it'll be the one on the top right corner of my forehead. I have a permanent bump to go with the scar. It's not noticeable but I can feel it if I run my finger over said scar.
I don't know how I did the other two, but one was apparently from a marble fireplace thing, and another way from nursery I think. I remember sitting on a bed in the A+E and my Mum and Dad came in with my favorite teddy, whilst I was getting steri-strips over yet another wallop to the head. Just wrap me in bubble wrap and call it a day, yeah?
Luckily I haven't had any A+E worthy accidents that warrant stitches or steri-strips or whatever other crap they put on you, for a few years now. Not to say I haven't been to A+E since though - whilst I've never actually broken a bone I've had trips to A+E, like when I thought I'd broken my hand or when I almost broke my little toe (that was actually last winter, when a stool came crashing down on my poor little foot when I tripped over my laptop cord.) So yeah, bubble wrap.
The funny thing is that many times when I do hit my head its always on the right side where I have the permanent bump/scar. I suppose making it black and blue would make it more obvious.
Oh and I do actually have another head-injury story. I'm actually surprised I remember so many considering head injury = most likely forgetting the accident (whilst my memory is admittedly crap this might just be a genetic thing and not through my clumsy-ness). When I was 9, me and some friends were sneaking into the woods next to our youth club, as trees, mud and more mud is apparently more fun than inside the youth club. Anyway, we walk across the field and get to a part of the stone wall we can clamber over. When I clambered over, ever the elegant kid I am, one of the massive rocks decided to follow me and whacked the back of my lower head.
Ow.
I must have screamed, b/c everyone stopped and asked what happened, and I don't remember saying anything, but I was conscious. Good thing too. The last thing a bunch of exploring 9 year olds need is someone getting knocked out, without an adult in sight. My friend Lindsay was talking to me, to distract me from the massive throbbing/splitting headache that had for some reason just formed. Yeah, its a mystery that one. But someone else asked if I was ok and I remember, despite saying to me 'You're ok, you're fine' she said to him 'I don't know, she's got a massive bump on the back of her head now'. Whilst we survived the little excursion otherwise unharmed, I was pretty freaked out that night. Probably b/c I'd recently been watching one of those medical dramas (probably 'Holby City') and some guy ended up brain dead after hitting his head on some concrete. I probably should have remembered the part where he'd fallen about 20ft, or the fact that he'd been knocked out. Or the fact that it was a completely scripted drama.
But then again, rational thinking goes out of the window with me, fairly often.
On a completely different note, I've been blogging for a year this week. To be specific, a year on Saturday. I vaguely remember deciding to start the whole thing. I was probably in a Health and Social care lesson, where we did bugger all (and miraculously still passed that class) and I was reading a blog at the time. Then I decided to click 'Create Blog' in the right hand top corner and that was me started off. I did actually write a pretty piss poor post to start with, which I soon chucked out and started again. Overall I'm glad I started this blog b/c I've met a lot of new people, and very nice people at that. I've also gotten loads of lovely comments and emails and I'm even good friends with a few people that I wouldn't otherwise know.
And in the words of Bree, Happy blogiversary to me :) (This girl sure is getting a lot of mention these days. Maybe I should start charging for advertisement...!)
Saturday, 10 October 2009
Sweet dreams.
I'm quite into the whole 'dreams have meanings' thing. But until recently, I didn't realise that every dream has a meaning. Even the weird and unexplainable dreams that you think could have been caused by watching too many movies or eating too much sugar.
As it turns out, my most recent strange dream did have a meaning behind it. And the meaning as interpreted by Bree was spot on. She was completely accurate and it made me realise that my dreams must be my way of getting rid of pent up feelings rather than keeping them cooped up. And since finding out what that specific dream meant, I'm quite calm and relaxed. I suppose its one thing to dream about something in an attempt to make sense of it and to receive messages, but I think it completes the circle when you find out the meaning of the dream. In other words, since finding out what the hell this dream meant, I've been able to let go of feeling so pissed about it.
I don't usually remember my dreams. But if I do, I take it as a hint and try and find out what it meant. In this dream, it was as if I was in some sort of action movie. I was being shot at by people. People I knew but I can't remember their faces. At first I thought it was a game, but people who were with me were getting shot and getting hurt. I can't remember, but I may have been shooting back. But I had a simple, one shot at a time gun, and these people had freaking automatics - I just couldn't fight back hard enough.
I'm hardly a gun nut, so that's why I put the gun thing down to watching too many movies. Or watching 'Scream' so many times.
But anyway, as it turns out, this means that I want to be part of things that I can't, and that I want to be in the action. But things are in the way - in other words, the people shooting at me are the ones stopping me from being able to be a part of things. As soon as Bree had told me this, it made a lot of sense - people just don't tell me about nights out resulting in the crappest social life e.v.e.r. Especially for an 18 yr old. I mean, come on. But I think it's also things like being on IVs too, that stop me from being able to be completely part of things. Like I said, I recognised the people shooting at me. But right now I just can't seem to focus on who it was. All I knew was that when I realised that [in the dream] it wasn't a game, it confused me b/c why would these people shoot me?
Oh well.
But since finding what it meant, I've been able to let go of the feeling so narked off about it. Which is strange b/c I'm one of those people who just seem to collect those feelings, of any kind, and never seem to let them off steam lest an innocent person should walk into my mental path and then I kind of snap. In other words, if someone asks whats up, and they know I'm lying, and manage to make me tell the truth, my god I don't think I shut up for ages.
But I'm hoping I remember more dreams now. I like finding out what they mean. And I haven't remembered one so vividly since I had a dream where I had a tx [this was months ago.] I liked that dream as I was breathing very easily, I was talking, walking, and not tired out or having to stop to catch my breath at all. The feeling was quite overwhelming. And I hope that what happened in the dream really does happen one day, although, knock on wood, I won't need a tx for a long time coming.
As it turns out, my most recent strange dream did have a meaning behind it. And the meaning as interpreted by Bree was spot on. She was completely accurate and it made me realise that my dreams must be my way of getting rid of pent up feelings rather than keeping them cooped up. And since finding out what that specific dream meant, I'm quite calm and relaxed. I suppose its one thing to dream about something in an attempt to make sense of it and to receive messages, but I think it completes the circle when you find out the meaning of the dream. In other words, since finding out what the hell this dream meant, I've been able to let go of feeling so pissed about it.
I don't usually remember my dreams. But if I do, I take it as a hint and try and find out what it meant. In this dream, it was as if I was in some sort of action movie. I was being shot at by people. People I knew but I can't remember their faces. At first I thought it was a game, but people who were with me were getting shot and getting hurt. I can't remember, but I may have been shooting back. But I had a simple, one shot at a time gun, and these people had freaking automatics - I just couldn't fight back hard enough.
I'm hardly a gun nut, so that's why I put the gun thing down to watching too many movies. Or watching 'Scream' so many times.
But anyway, as it turns out, this means that I want to be part of things that I can't, and that I want to be in the action. But things are in the way - in other words, the people shooting at me are the ones stopping me from being able to be a part of things. As soon as Bree had told me this, it made a lot of sense - people just don't tell me about nights out resulting in the crappest social life e.v.e.r. Especially for an 18 yr old. I mean, come on. But I think it's also things like being on IVs too, that stop me from being able to be completely part of things. Like I said, I recognised the people shooting at me. But right now I just can't seem to focus on who it was. All I knew was that when I realised that [in the dream] it wasn't a game, it confused me b/c why would these people shoot me?
Oh well.
But since finding what it meant, I've been able to let go of the feeling so narked off about it. Which is strange b/c I'm one of those people who just seem to collect those feelings, of any kind, and never seem to let them off steam lest an innocent person should walk into my mental path and then I kind of snap. In other words, if someone asks whats up, and they know I'm lying, and manage to make me tell the truth, my god I don't think I shut up for ages.
But I'm hoping I remember more dreams now. I like finding out what they mean. And I haven't remembered one so vividly since I had a dream where I had a tx [this was months ago.] I liked that dream as I was breathing very easily, I was talking, walking, and not tired out or having to stop to catch my breath at all. The feeling was quite overwhelming. And I hope that what happened in the dream really does happen one day, although, knock on wood, I won't need a tx for a long time coming.
Wednesday, 7 October 2009
T-minus 7 days...
I haven't done much other than vegetate in front of my laptop watching the DVDs I ordered the other day. They arrived the other morning when the post man sauntered up to the door, and I saw my two parcels literally fly through the letterbox. And then bounce along on the floor a bit too. I did actually say to the door/postman 'Dude! My DVDs!' But I don't think he gave a shit, and they were safely encased in the cases and the cardboard, so they survived to tell the tale.
And my bus pass came found it's way home :) It must have dropped out of my pocket at school on Thurs, as the school posted it back to me and it arrived on Monday. I was going spare without it. But now I can make any random and pointless trip to Newcastle or Consett or wherever the mood strikes, as I can now yet again, travel on the bus for FREE!! (From 9.30am to 11pm on a weekday, but whenever I like on a weekend!)
My three weeks of IVs are looming ever closer. I don't know whether I'm apprehensive about them (given the fact that they're the 2nd three weeks of IVs I've ever had) or excited. I can't explain the excited thing, but I think it's b/c I'm not feeling crappy right now, so I'm hoping these IVs put me on-top-of-the-world kind of 'feeling great'. That, and they get rid of my cough, which is the main reason for going on them. The highly ironic thing is that I'm going to a party yet again with IVs. My sister's Halloween party, but a party nonetheless. And I know and like people who are going to it, so it'll be fun. But the stupid thing is that I'm yet again on IVs when this party is planned for, and I don't get out much these days. Such is my life. But I'm betting my liver is glad that I'm being very teetotal at the moment. Not so much out of choice, but the few times I do go out and have the opportunity to have a drink, I'm on effing antibiotics. They seem to love me in that way.
I did go to the Freeman ENT on Tues as per my appointment and to be honest, it probably wasn't the best. Every time I go there, I have to take another hearing test and I hate doing them. Its hard to distinguish between the beeps from the test and the ringing in my ears, so its probably not the most 'sure thing' test. This time, apparently I have literally no hearing for the most half. Which confuses me as right now I can hear the TV and hear myself tapping on the keyboard. Albeit with hearing aids, but still, if you've got no hearing, no amount of HAs are going to help that. I did ask if there was anything they could do about the nerve damage - she said my only options are HAs or a cochlea implant, which I put my foot down against. I know some people like them but I just do not want a brick sticking out the side of my head. That, and the fact that surgery is kinda frowned upon with CFers - anaesthetic is nobodies friend, but it can cause major havoc in the lung department when you have a respiratory illness.
My attempt at getting newer or smaller HAs also bombed - she just doesn't see the point as she doesn't believe they will help. Which pisses me off as surely newer HAs (which aren't the size of bricks) would have better technology, right? (See previous post about how they said these HAs would make everything clearer, and they didn't...!). *Sigh* I hate my hearing, I've given up on it. And I'm sick and tired of getting pissed off, embarrassed or upset about it.
On a much happier, chipper and all around better note, I got an extra lens for my camera. When I bought the camera I got a few money off vouchers for other stuff, and I decided to get a 55-200mm lens. It cost a fair bit, but it comes from my grant, and I got £90 off it, so I thought I may as well go for it - whilst I probably won't need the lens this second, the voucher was only valid for 3 months. Now my camera bag really does look the part - I've got the camera, two lenses, a flash gun, a battery charger (ooh yes, I need to buy a spare battery) a spare memory card, and the USB lead. I've also kept the instructions and things in case I get a bit lost (which is fairly likely, knowing me). With the boxes for my camera and lens, and the box for my brand new laptop I bought myself (adding together my wages and left over money from the grant) my room is starting to look a bit like the store room for an electrical goods shop.
Also, you'd think after a whole lifetime of having to take enzymes every time I eat something, that they would be something I always have on me, whether it be in the car, in my pocket or in my bag. Um, no. On Tuesday, before we went to the ENT, I had a cheese and onion bake thing from Greggs. After finishing it and cracking open my coke, I rooted through my bag and started to look for my enzymes. After I couldn't find them, I looked up and said to my Dad, 'Do you want to know something really funny...' and he guessed I'd forgotten my enzymes. Its funny b/c he asked before we left the house if I had some, and I said I did. I was sure I did but I must have taken them out of my bag rather than put them in. I've said about 100 times we need to keep some enzymes in the car or something, as I'm always forgetting them when we go out and I eat something. We still haven't put any in the car though. Personally, I think we're just a family of procrastinators *looks pointedly at the list of 'things to do' which include getting my e-flow serviced and getting my DLA switched over to me now that I'm 18*
Oh and before I forget, b/c I find this funny, I was on the bus today, and it was one of those old and pretty much 'had it' busses, that are loud and shake the seats. I was in the back so my seat had a fair bit of shakin' and I instantly had a thought... 'Hey, free physio!' Heh. Not that I'm charged for physio b/c that would be barbaric but I found it funny all the same.
It's officially one week until my three weeks of IVs. Why, please tell, am I bricking it?!
And my bus pass came found it's way home :) It must have dropped out of my pocket at school on Thurs, as the school posted it back to me and it arrived on Monday. I was going spare without it. But now I can make any random and pointless trip to Newcastle or Consett or wherever the mood strikes, as I can now yet again, travel on the bus for FREE!! (From 9.30am to 11pm on a weekday, but whenever I like on a weekend!)
My three weeks of IVs are looming ever closer. I don't know whether I'm apprehensive about them (given the fact that they're the 2nd three weeks of IVs I've ever had) or excited. I can't explain the excited thing, but I think it's b/c I'm not feeling crappy right now, so I'm hoping these IVs put me on-top-of-the-world kind of 'feeling great'. That, and they get rid of my cough, which is the main reason for going on them. The highly ironic thing is that I'm going to a party yet again with IVs. My sister's Halloween party, but a party nonetheless. And I know and like people who are going to it, so it'll be fun. But the stupid thing is that I'm yet again on IVs when this party is planned for, and I don't get out much these days. Such is my life. But I'm betting my liver is glad that I'm being very teetotal at the moment. Not so much out of choice, but the few times I do go out and have the opportunity to have a drink, I'm on effing antibiotics. They seem to love me in that way.
I did go to the Freeman ENT on Tues as per my appointment and to be honest, it probably wasn't the best. Every time I go there, I have to take another hearing test and I hate doing them. Its hard to distinguish between the beeps from the test and the ringing in my ears, so its probably not the most 'sure thing' test. This time, apparently I have literally no hearing for the most half. Which confuses me as right now I can hear the TV and hear myself tapping on the keyboard. Albeit with hearing aids, but still, if you've got no hearing, no amount of HAs are going to help that. I did ask if there was anything they could do about the nerve damage - she said my only options are HAs or a cochlea implant, which I put my foot down against. I know some people like them but I just do not want a brick sticking out the side of my head. That, and the fact that surgery is kinda frowned upon with CFers - anaesthetic is nobodies friend, but it can cause major havoc in the lung department when you have a respiratory illness.
My attempt at getting newer or smaller HAs also bombed - she just doesn't see the point as she doesn't believe they will help. Which pisses me off as surely newer HAs (which aren't the size of bricks) would have better technology, right? (See previous post about how they said these HAs would make everything clearer, and they didn't...!). *Sigh* I hate my hearing, I've given up on it. And I'm sick and tired of getting pissed off, embarrassed or upset about it.
On a much happier, chipper and all around better note, I got an extra lens for my camera. When I bought the camera I got a few money off vouchers for other stuff, and I decided to get a 55-200mm lens. It cost a fair bit, but it comes from my grant, and I got £90 off it, so I thought I may as well go for it - whilst I probably won't need the lens this second, the voucher was only valid for 3 months. Now my camera bag really does look the part - I've got the camera, two lenses, a flash gun, a battery charger (ooh yes, I need to buy a spare battery) a spare memory card, and the USB lead. I've also kept the instructions and things in case I get a bit lost (which is fairly likely, knowing me). With the boxes for my camera and lens, and the box for my brand new laptop I bought myself (adding together my wages and left over money from the grant) my room is starting to look a bit like the store room for an electrical goods shop.
Also, you'd think after a whole lifetime of having to take enzymes every time I eat something, that they would be something I always have on me, whether it be in the car, in my pocket or in my bag. Um, no. On Tuesday, before we went to the ENT, I had a cheese and onion bake thing from Greggs. After finishing it and cracking open my coke, I rooted through my bag and started to look for my enzymes. After I couldn't find them, I looked up and said to my Dad, 'Do you want to know something really funny...' and he guessed I'd forgotten my enzymes. Its funny b/c he asked before we left the house if I had some, and I said I did. I was sure I did but I must have taken them out of my bag rather than put them in. I've said about 100 times we need to keep some enzymes in the car or something, as I'm always forgetting them when we go out and I eat something. We still haven't put any in the car though. Personally, I think we're just a family of procrastinators *looks pointedly at the list of 'things to do' which include getting my e-flow serviced and getting my DLA switched over to me now that I'm 18*
Oh and before I forget, b/c I find this funny, I was on the bus today, and it was one of those old and pretty much 'had it' busses, that are loud and shake the seats. I was in the back so my seat had a fair bit of shakin' and I instantly had a thought... 'Hey, free physio!' Heh. Not that I'm charged for physio b/c that would be barbaric but I found it funny all the same.
It's officially one week until my three weeks of IVs. Why, please tell, am I bricking it?!
Saturday, 3 October 2009
And no word of a lie.
At my shift at work on Friday, I ended the day with more injuries than I bargained for. Not that I actually expect to get injuries from hoovering and the like, but I can't honestly say I expected to come home limping and with a massive bruise on my head.
The bruise was from accidentally whacking my head off the corner of the sofa (which isn't soft) when cleaning the sideboard. When I stood up I realised I was dizzy - and laughed at the fact that I've probably given myself concussion, b/c it's apparently just that funny. After that, probably only 10 minutes later, I walked into a fence (Ok, fell over it when trying to jump the little bugger) and now I have an impressive bruise on my right leg, thus, limping. And I know its painful as A, it's my leg, and my bruise, and B, I rarely ever bruise. I'm constantly walking into things, whacking my head off open cupboards and alternating between falling up and down the stairs, and rarely have a scratch to tell my tales of clumsy-ness.
But injuries aside, its not the only tale I have to tell today. The other day, I went up to school to ask if I could claim back (ok, more like 'rescue') my 3 art books of my work from my last school year. I was told I had to wait till November, which I wasn't pleased with, and wished I'd followed through with nicking the keys to the store room and just taking my art books. I got halfway through this plan when I realised the door was open, so I left the keys on a table and headed straight for the door, thinking 'finally, things are going my way!'. Um, no. I turned around to check no one else was there, and lo and behold, the art teacher was walking up the corridor. I legged it around the corner and hid, b/c I knew that if she saw me, she'd know I was after my art stuff and probably guard the door like a trusty Doberman. So I waited until she'd left (incidentally, she was actually going into the art store room, hence the open door) and unfortunately, locked the door behind her and took the keys I'd ditched on a nearby table (Dammit!). Giving up, I followed her and pleaded for my art stuff, and this was when I had a (light hearted) argument about wanting to take my art stuff before people destroy it, as someone had already pretty much wrecked one of my final pieces by bending it in half, and to hell with what the Exam board wants - I couldn't care less and I just really really want my work that I spent months slaving over, home, before someone really does destroy it.
I went off empty handed and after a whole explosion of UCAS college application stuff, I was able to get home. Unfortunately it wasn't that straight forward, as I realised, after going through my bag and my pockets at least 5 times, I'd lost my bus pass. I figured it must have dropped out of my pocket at some point when I was carrying my coat, and retraced my steps. I didn't find it, and just as I was thinking about scrounging a lift off my old school bus, I saw that it had already left. I remembered I still had a £20 gift card for a jewellery store that is in Hexham, and decided to make a detour on my walk back to the bus station. I got another charm for my Pandora bracelet, and now it's looking pretty full :) Actually, I think I'll take a picture of it b/c I think it really is the bee's knees.
Anyhoo, reluctantly realising I'm going to have to pay for the bus for the first time in more than a year, I went up to the bus stop and checked the timetable. The next bus that went past my house wasn't until 5.15pm. It was 3.45 at this point. A tad pissed, I texted my Dad asking him to pick me up, and walked up to my sister's house. I didn't mind this part as I like going to my sister's though. I think the one thing that annoyed me (more than the lack of art stuff, or loosing my bus pass) was the fact that I'd walked all the way from the bus stop, up to school (which is probably about a 25 minute walk by my standards) and then having to walk from one building to the other a few times, as QEHS is two buildings. Then having to walk all the way back to the bus stop, and then finding out the bus wasn't turning up for more than an hour, and having to walk a further 5-10 minutes to my sister's house. Bear in mind I'm not in tip top condition. I think the right word here is probably 'crap'. Tip-crap condition, if you will.
So, after murdering my lungs with all this walking, huffing and puffing and inward screaming from the frustration, I finally got home safe and sound, and my Dad was fairly tickled at the fact that I lost my bus pass. And then I realised I needed it to get the bus to college on Saturday for my course. I like having my bus pass b/c it means I don't have to talk to the bus driver and embarrass myself with crappy hearing moments, as I often do. With my bus pass, I avoid this b/c all I have to do is show the pass and I get my ticket, and I don't have to say a word, which probably suits many people quite fine.
The bruise was from accidentally whacking my head off the corner of the sofa (which isn't soft) when cleaning the sideboard. When I stood up I realised I was dizzy - and laughed at the fact that I've probably given myself concussion, b/c it's apparently just that funny. After that, probably only 10 minutes later, I walked into a fence (Ok, fell over it when trying to jump the little bugger) and now I have an impressive bruise on my right leg, thus, limping. And I know its painful as A, it's my leg, and my bruise, and B, I rarely ever bruise. I'm constantly walking into things, whacking my head off open cupboards and alternating between falling up and down the stairs, and rarely have a scratch to tell my tales of clumsy-ness.
But injuries aside, its not the only tale I have to tell today. The other day, I went up to school to ask if I could claim back (ok, more like 'rescue') my 3 art books of my work from my last school year. I was told I had to wait till November, which I wasn't pleased with, and wished I'd followed through with nicking the keys to the store room and just taking my art books. I got halfway through this plan when I realised the door was open, so I left the keys on a table and headed straight for the door, thinking 'finally, things are going my way!'. Um, no. I turned around to check no one else was there, and lo and behold, the art teacher was walking up the corridor. I legged it around the corner and hid, b/c I knew that if she saw me, she'd know I was after my art stuff and probably guard the door like a trusty Doberman. So I waited until she'd left (incidentally, she was actually going into the art store room, hence the open door) and unfortunately, locked the door behind her and took the keys I'd ditched on a nearby table (Dammit!). Giving up, I followed her and pleaded for my art stuff, and this was when I had a (light hearted) argument about wanting to take my art stuff before people destroy it, as someone had already pretty much wrecked one of my final pieces by bending it in half, and to hell with what the Exam board wants - I couldn't care less and I just really really want my work that I spent months slaving over, home, before someone really does destroy it.
I went off empty handed and after a whole explosion of UCAS college application stuff, I was able to get home. Unfortunately it wasn't that straight forward, as I realised, after going through my bag and my pockets at least 5 times, I'd lost my bus pass. I figured it must have dropped out of my pocket at some point when I was carrying my coat, and retraced my steps. I didn't find it, and just as I was thinking about scrounging a lift off my old school bus, I saw that it had already left. I remembered I still had a £20 gift card for a jewellery store that is in Hexham, and decided to make a detour on my walk back to the bus station. I got another charm for my Pandora bracelet, and now it's looking pretty full :) Actually, I think I'll take a picture of it b/c I think it really is the bee's knees.
Anyhoo, reluctantly realising I'm going to have to pay for the bus for the first time in more than a year, I went up to the bus stop and checked the timetable. The next bus that went past my house wasn't until 5.15pm. It was 3.45 at this point. A tad pissed, I texted my Dad asking him to pick me up, and walked up to my sister's house. I didn't mind this part as I like going to my sister's though. I think the one thing that annoyed me (more than the lack of art stuff, or loosing my bus pass) was the fact that I'd walked all the way from the bus stop, up to school (which is probably about a 25 minute walk by my standards) and then having to walk from one building to the other a few times, as QEHS is two buildings. Then having to walk all the way back to the bus stop, and then finding out the bus wasn't turning up for more than an hour, and having to walk a further 5-10 minutes to my sister's house. Bear in mind I'm not in tip top condition. I think the right word here is probably 'crap'. Tip-crap condition, if you will.
So, after murdering my lungs with all this walking, huffing and puffing and inward screaming from the frustration, I finally got home safe and sound, and my Dad was fairly tickled at the fact that I lost my bus pass. And then I realised I needed it to get the bus to college on Saturday for my course. I like having my bus pass b/c it means I don't have to talk to the bus driver and embarrass myself with crappy hearing moments, as I often do. With my bus pass, I avoid this b/c all I have to do is show the pass and I get my ticket, and I don't have to say a word, which probably suits many people quite fine.
My college course started today. And whilst the course itself was good, and I love the fact that we jump right into work as opposed to pissing about watching slideshows and such for weeks on end, the start of the day was pretty crap. After realising that the bus I was on was actually taking longer than I realised to get to college, it took a different turn and completely avoided the college. I ended up at the Eldon square shopping centre, which is about 30 mins walk from the college. It was now 10.15am, and my course started at 10am. Damn. The next bus that went anywhere near the college wasn't for another 20 mins and the dude at the information desk said I was better off walking there. So I set off. And it began pissing rain. After getting lost about 5 times, getting soaked through to the skin and getting progressively upset through the whole being wet/lost/completely out of breath thing, I finally found the college, and walked into my course 1 hour late. I didn't get any flack for this though, as I explained the whole bus cock up and anyway, all I'd missed was the tour (and the introduction bit), but it wasn't a bad thing as I'd technically already been there before.
So, the course was good, getting soaked wasn't as good, but right now I'm watching good TV, chatting on msn and have a tub of strawberry ice cream, so things could be worse.
And that was my last couple of days. No word of a lie.
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