My Adventures in Hospital

It's 10am on Saturday 18th February 2012, and I'm drafting this in my notebook to be blogged when I get home.

I don't know if I've mentioned it here, but for a year now I've been getting these "attacks" of back and stomach pain. Insane pain. Crushing, aching, impossible to sooth and impossible to get comfortable. The pain would ease after a few hours and then I'd be fine. And then, because I'm me, I never went to see my Dr about it.

Wednesday lunchtime this pain comes back, and this time it didn't go away. It got worse, and was accompanied by vomiting that just wouldn't stop. By around 11pm I was vomiting liquid and retching, and fainting a couple of times. It was not a good day.

I didn't have enough credit to call NHS Direct, but I was desperate so I called an ambulance. In A&E they did blood tests and determined that I have pancreatitis. I got admitted.

Basically, pancreatitis is when the pancreas gets inflamed and starts producing enzymes that cause lower back and abdominal pain, and could effect the other organs. There is no surgery or cure available. The only treatment is to help the body recover on its own. IV fluids, no food, pain management. And to find out what caused it in the first place, and deal with that.

The two most common causes are alcoholism (not me) and gall stones. So I got sent for an x-ray and the most painful ultrasound in the world ever. The ultrasound technician confirmed that I had gall stones, but told me to act surprised when the Dr told me because she wasn't meant to have done.

This was about 11am on Thursday. At this point I was in extreme pain but getting meds for that. I was mostly relieved to have a diagnosis. And glad that I hadn't called NHS Direct. They would have just told me to get lots of fluid, lots of rest and to go see my Dr. And my Dr would have just told me it was because I'm fat. By coming to A&E I found out what was wrong with me, and I'm getting treated.

Eventually the Dr came to see me and tells me that - surprise - I have gall stones. He says that the best way to deal with them is to wait until the pancreatitis has died down, and to remove the gall bladder. I've already wikipediaed gall stones by this point so I knew that surgery was an option. I just assumed that, because of my size, it'd be their last resort for me and that instead I'd be taking "ursodeoxycholic acid" for two years to dissolve the gall stones. That treatment has "unpleasant" side effects and it once it ends, gall stones may reoccur. Fun. But the doctor seemed pretty sure that I should have the surgery, if not while I'm admitted, then within 2 weeks.

I'll skip through the next 24 hours, but give you some bullet points.

- a wardmate who would not shut the hell up. I've never heard anyone complain so much.
- a wardmate (pregnant) who refuses to eat anything the hospital provides because it doesn't fit her strict low-fat diet, who regularly disappears with a cigarette and comes back with crisps.
- a variety of nurses. Mostly nice, some super-nice, a couple who were just plain mean.
- a hot 3rd year medical student who got to practice taking patient histories by having an intimate, indepth half hour chat with me.
- constant messages/support/errands/visits from certain friends.
- a complete lack of communication from other "friends".
- mum getting the money needed, driving up and essentially living in my flat until I get out.
- pain. A lot of pain.
- pain meds. A lot of pain meds.

Then last night I got to see the doctor again. It was a different guy though and I'm pretty sure neither of them were the guy on my chart. Both came with a nice flock of med students though. This Dr agreed that I needed surgery. He explained that there would be "issues" relating to my weight and the "shape" of my stomach, but that these were not unsurmountable. He told me the other option... to put a camera/tool/thingy down my throat (while conscious) and cut off the bile duct at the bottom of the gall bladder, allowing the stones to work their own way out. The complications being that a) the stones could cause any kind of havoc on their way out, b) the gall bladder remains and so I could get gall stones again, and c) - this is my favourite - the procedure itself usually causes pancreatitis.

I was prepared to beg for surgery, but didn't need to. He thinks that surgery is the best option. But pancreatitis can cause problems in other organs, so they need that to clear before they can operate. Again, hopefully while I'm admitted.

So how am I? I'm on a constant IV drip, to keep me hydrated. I'm allowed to ingest fluids, but no food because that aggravates the pancreas. I'm in constant pain, but with the meds it's manageable. I just can't get comfortable. I woke up at 7am on the day I got sick and since then (75 hours) I've had about 5 hours sleep. I can get reasonably comfortable on my back, but have never been able to sleep like that. I sleep on my side, which at the moment is a physical impossibility due to the pain. So the only sleep I get is when I doze off, and when I'm on my back, it's only for short periods. Wednesday night I was in A&E, and being admitted and treated and moved. Thursday day time I was getting tests and visitors and being moved again. Thursday night I got about an hour of sleep, in bursts of 15 to 20 minutes. Friday daytime was impossible to sleep because of the noise, and the comings and goings and the obs. Then last night the Dr approved some stronger pain killers for me. I slept! In bursts of 45 minutes or so, and only a couple, but enough to make a difference. I woke up this morning feeling better. I've managed to drink some milk (I've been on weak squash) and I've been able to sit in the chair by the bed for an hour or two.

Unfortunately I can feel the meds wearing off and the stronger pain coming back, so I'm going back to bed and paging the nurse. Another update later.

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12.30pm Sunday 19th February

It's been a bit of an up and down day. I feel better for a bit, then crap, then not crap. Mostly I feel not-quite-with-it. My obs (observations: pulse, respiration, blood pressure, temperature) keep spiking a bit, then dipping a bit. My blood sugar dropped quite badly this morning and they made me have some juice and some milk for breakfast, and tested me again a bit later and it was fine. In my obs just now my temperature was up and they were all surprised. I've been telling them for days that I feel feverish, but because they keep taking my temperature from the side of my head that's had a constant fan blowing at it. I had ONE nurse, on Thursday, who pointed out that the fan-ear would be cooler.

I haven't seen a Dr this weekend at all. I guess they're all out playing golf. There are some doctors doing the rounds, and if I needed one, I'd get one. But at the moment, there isn't much that can be done until the pancreatitis clear up. It was the amylase levels in my blood that diagnosed it, so I'm assuming that at some point I'll get getting another blood test.

I'm not sure what's happening with my appetite. I'm not allowed food until the pancreatitis clear anyway, but yesterday morning I woke up feeling kinda hungry. Then the breakfast trolley came around and made me all queasy. When I had to fill in the dinner menu (I have to do it for the bed, not for me) some of that sounded quite nice. The IDEA of food seems okay, but when food is actually presented to me it really doesn't seem okay.

My brain has registered that I haven't eaten and keeps telling me I'm hungry, but the rest of me disagrees. I think even if the Dr told me I could eat right now, I'm not sure if I would. We'll see, I guess.

In general, I'm tired, achey, tired, hungry (sort of), my stomach hurts, my chest hurts, my back hurts, I'm scared, worried, bored and a little high.

Hope you're all doing better than me.

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2am Monday 20th February

Here are some things I have noticed:

- some people are very, very stupid. You can't go home until you keep down food, so you smother that piece of toast with 4 pats of butter.
- some nurses are very, very attractive. I'm not naming names.
- it is very, very annoying to go 4 and a half days without getting a decent chunk of sleep. I've just woken from a 3 hour sleep, which has been my longest so far.
- it is very, very scary to be in hospital, especially when what you have is potentially life-threatening.
- it is very, very daunting to know that if you get the operation that will sort out your current issues and prevent them from recurring, it will lead to a potential slew of other issues.
- it is very, very worrying to think about how you're going to cope with all the drastic changes you'll need to make to live life healthily without an organ.
- it is very, very hard to put on a brave face when each visitor shows up and pretend you aren't quite as scared, or daunted, or worried as you really are.

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12.15pm Tuesday 21st February

Well, things have progressed. The Dr decided yesterday that I can start eating agaibn, so for dinner I had a small bit of tomato soup and a teeny tiny salad. I wasn't sure if I was going to vomit it back up, or if I'd get lots of pain, but I didn't get either. So later in the day I had a sandwich and a banana and that stayed down too. Et voila! I'm eating again.

I get to eat for a whole day, and then go on Nil By Mouth at midnight, because they hope to do my surgery tomorrow morning. They have to do blood tests to make sure my pancreas is okay, but it seems to be. And obviously, if an emergency comes in, I'll be bumped. But at the moment I'm on the list.

In the meantime, my pain is better. As long as I stay still all I get is the odd spasm. When I move from sitting to standing or lying, that hurts, but then I quickly settle. And when the pain killers wear off all the pain comes back. My lower back, my stomach. But they are keeping me nicely dosed up.

My biggest problem is the sleeping. I still can't sleep on my side. I can lean a bit further now, but find that after an hour or so I regret it. I can sleep for 2-3 hours at a time, but I'm a fidgety person and a fidgety sleeper. Sleeping that long without moving leaves me waking up stiff and in pain. So I'm still uber-tired, but I'm doing okay generally. I'll be doing a lot better once the angry noisy patient on the left of me and the angry noisy patient on the right of me are gone.

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5pm Tuesday 21st February

The Drs seem to think that I'll be getting surgery tomorrow, but from what I've seen going on, and from what I've heard from other patients, that doesn't seem likely. There are a lot of gall bladder patients coming through my ward. Tanya had been diagnosed with gall stones 4 months ago and was still waiting for an operation, but this was the first time she'd been admitted for the issues caused by the stones. Becky has already had her operations bumped back 3 times. She was meant to go down this morning. Saw the anesthetist, signed the form, got all prepped, then they bumped her. They've just moved in a new girl next to me. She was diagnosed with gall stones in October. Since then she's had 4 attacks strong enough to put her in A&E and one attack of pancreatitis. She's been here 5 days this time and each day she was meant to be getting the operation then they bumped her. It's the same, patient after patient. Months of pain, then bump after bump. I only found out about this last week and they reckon I'll have it out tomorrow. I don't know. I'm not holding my breath. (Mostly because it'd hurt too much). I'll assume I'm getting the operation when I'm down there being anesthetised.

I'm noticing other differences. Everyone else was quizzed about their diet and they've been told to have a strict low-fat diet from now on. Nobody's mentioned any of that to me. I'm under a different Dr too. Although someone mentioned that my Dr did their overweight uncle, so maybe my Dr specialises in the bigguns.

I get that every person and every patient is different, but it's very confusing.

Mum and Cayden started talking to me earlier about the aftermath of the surgery. I have been mostly focused on GETTING the surgery, but I have been thinking about what happens afterwards. And not just about a healthier lifestyle and diet once I'm all healed. Usually, and ideally, this operation is done laproscopically (keyhole). You can have the surgery in the morning and be home by the end of the day. However things like obesity can cause problems with keyhole surgery, and it's highly possible they'll need to give me open surgery, which is much more invasive, leaves a bigger wound and takes a lot longer to recover from. The issues this would present for me include the fact that I need to go up a flight of stairs between my front door and my apartment, that my mattress is on the floor, my sofa is short and low, my bath has no handles, etc, etc, etc. It will be a rough 6 weeks - even aside from the pain. I DO know that. I just try very hard not to think about it. I just want them to take the damn gall bladder out. I'll deal with extreme pain for 6 weeks, as long as I don't end up like some of the other people in here living with regular and strong gall bladder attacks for months and months - as well as all the complications that can arise.

Although at the moment all I want to do is sleep, really. That and play with my cats.

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5.15pm Wednesday 22nd February

Today has not been so good. I managed to get a decent amount of solid sleep - which allowed the nightmares back. Then I (and everyone else on the ward) was awoken by the newest member screaming at the nurses in the most grating, horrendous, annoying Liverpudlian accent. Apparently the nurses were treating her badly by not giving her morphine, and they had to go interrupt the Dr while he was performing surgery so he could prescribe some, and the oxy-something-or-other that they were offering her wasn't good enough and they were treating her like she was a "crack addict" and this'd been going on for 20 years now and she was going to report them and blah blah blah. And all of it loudly and repeatedly, in that bloody accent. At 5 in the morning. So when they came to move me to a different ward (off the 72 hour ward that I'd been on for 112 hours) I was actually kinda relieved. Until I got there. The nurses insist everyone get out of bed for breakfast - even if they're on Nil By Mouth like I was. They kept closing the curtains around me for no reason - which I don't like because I'm in a building full of strangers and I wanna be able to see who's coming towards me. And there was zero phone signal, despite the actual sign in here that says we can use phones. And...

Well ok. Looking at it now, those things aren't much. But at the time I was tired and in pain and scared about the op and frustrated and angry. So I cried. A lot. And I called my mummy like a great big baby.

And then on top of that, my surgery was bumped. Not too surprised about that though. I was expecting it. But all in all it was a generally sucky morning and I just wanted to go home.

Then Mum came and hung out with me for a bit, and I had some food, and I've slept a bit more. And now I don't feel quite as bad. I'm still tired and frustrated, but I'm dealing with it better. I'm a wee bit more bored now that I can't access the web on my phone or on the iPad (did I mention that Kat has loaned me her iPad while I'm in here?). I'm finding it a lot easier to sleep now so I'll probably do more of that. Hopefully without the nightmares.

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11.44pm Wednesday 22nd February

This time last week, I called an ambulance.

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6.10am Thursday 23rd February

Why do all the nurses find my pigtails so adorable?

I just scared one of them by talking to her when I was stood up. She hadn't realised I was so tall.

I have an annoying neighbour who watches Bollywood DVDs on her portable thingy without headphones, all day long. Even if the main TV is on.

I just realised that I slept a solid 6 hours, with no nightmares that I can recall.

As far as I know I'm still due to have surgery this morning, which, when I think about it, is a little bit scary.

I was admitted just over a week ago now. A week and an hour-ish.

I've been Nil By Mouth for 6 hours and my mouth is really dry.

I really, really, REALLY miss my cats.

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1.30pm Thursday 23rd February

I had the uber shower, with the special disinfectant. I had a conversation with the surgeon about what the operation entails. I signed the consent form. The nurse even came and did the checklist. Mum came in at 10 and has been sat with me because I don't want to go down without my mum.

Then a Dr came in...

and bumped me. He was a little funny though. Said I was being bumped because people kept wrapping their trees around cars. And that they'd do my operation tomorrow, dependent on the idiots of Stoke-on-Trent.

So I drank a pint of squash, stole one of Mum's sandwiches and sent her home. Now I'm going to watch an episode of Castle on the iPad and have a nap.

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9.15am Friday 24th February

Well, I haven't been bumped yet. A very surgeon-looking surgeon just came in. Apologised for yesterday. Said that after rounds he'd go down and look at the board and see what my chances are. He also said that if the right sort of consultant is on call over the weekend I might not necessarily have to wait until Monday. In the meantime, I'm hungry, my mouth is dry, and all I can do is wait. Again. I'm beginning to understand why all those patients in my last ward were so frustrated. Now that the pain isn't quite so dominant, I'm getting antsy and want to go home. I have the opportunity to go home and get an appointment to come back in the next two weeks. At the moment there are some problems with that:-

- Mum would have to go home because I'd need my bed, and we don't know if she could get back for the op.
- I'm still in pain from the gallbladder that got inflamed during the pancreatitis and while they'll send me home with meds, I still can't sleep properly and I probably wouldn't be able to get out of my bath.

So, at least until I'm sleeping properly and fully mobile, the current plan is to stay in here where there are showers and LOTS of pain meds.

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10.30am Saturday 25th February

I got bumped yesterday. Not at a nice convenient time though. They came and told me at 6.20pm. Mum had been sat here since 10am. I'd had no lunch or dinner. Very frustrating.

But the right type of surgeon is on over the weekend, so they're hoping to get me done today or tomorrow. So I'm sat here again. Showered, check-listed, Nil By Mouth. Mum's here. Hopefully if they bump me today it'll be early.

I'm getting a lot more annoyed and frustrated with the whole situation. I just want to go home. I can sleep on my side now - one of them at least. So I'd be okay at home, but that would mean not having Mum here when I do finally get operated on.

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10pm Saturday 25th February

I'm getting angrier and angrier with this place. At about 12.30 a smiley-faced doctor came in and told me that they wouldn't be able to fit me in this weekend.

Aaaarrrrgggghhhhh!!!

He did say that they could give me a slot on Tuesday and they'd be happy to keep me here until then, or they could send me home and give me an appointment in the next two weeks or so.

So now I'm "booked" in for Tuesday. Even if they can do my surgery laproscopically, by the time I get home I'd been in here for two weeks. I want to go home! I miss my bed, and my cats, and my computer, and my flat, and Ravelry, and the internet, and freedom. I've decided that if they bump me on Tuesday I'm going to go home. I don't want to have the operation without mum here, but I don't want to stay in here getting bumped every day either.

Then on my way back from the backthroom I bumped into my Dr at the nurses' desk. The very first guy I saw, who is also the guy doing the surgeries this weekend. He said he'd been "lumped" with my surgery and that he wasn't looking forward to it because of the complications - while he stared at my stomach. I remember, when he first told me I needed surgery I said I "really really wanted it" and he said he "really really didn't want to do it."

I just got the impression that I keep being bumped because they're foisting my surgery off on each other because no one wants to do it. I was angry. I told mum when she came in for visiting, and she's livid. She's going to "speak" to him tomorrow. She knows he'll be here - we've been told that. And mum is very good in these situations. Even if he'd come right out and said "no one wants to do it", I'd just fume quietly. I can't do complaints and stuff.

Whish is why I won't complain about today's nurses either - although I'll probably tell mum. Yesterday morning I developed a cough. I was Nil By Mouth all day yesterday so I couldn't drink to soothe it, and it got worse. I caughed all night and today it turned wet and rattly, and my throat got so raw my voice turned husky. I've mentioned several times, to several nurses, that I have a cough and that my throat hurts, and is there anything they could do. They first one just seemed to ignore me and went on doing my obs. The others all said they'd see what they could do.

The nighttime meds trolley just came round and I told the nurse that my throat was killing me because of the cough. She says there's nothing she can do about it, and that I should've mentioned it earlier.

I'm tired and sick and frustrated enough that I wanted to throw something at her, but I didn't. I muttered that I had told several nurses about it, and let her walk away. Apparently she put it in the Doctors' book and they'll see to it tomorrow.

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9.30am Monday 27th February

Yesterday was not a healthy day for me. My cough got worse, and my throat got worse. I mentioned it to the morning meds nurse, and again to the tea-time meds nurse. They both said they'd write it down in the Doctors' book and someone would see me.

At the 6pm visiting just after Mum got here, I had a big coughing fit. Coughing stuff up, head exploding, trouble breathing. Mum went to the nurses' station to see why no doctor had been to see me. There were no nurses at the desk, but a couple of doctors who looked and found out that I wasn't even in the book.

Mum. Was. Fuming.

Within the next half hour, one of those doctors - one of those weekend, on call doctors - had been to see me, listened to my chest, reassured me that I didn't have a chest infection, come back a couple of times to check other things, taken arterial blood (ouch!) and said there was a mild possibility of the pancreas/bileduct/something-or-other getting infested so he put me on preventative antibiotics.

In an hour, that one doctor - who isn't part of my care team - spoke to me more, and did more, and explained more, than all the other doctors I'd seen since I'd been in. Which, incidentally, has been 11 days and 10 hours :(

Still, in theory, I have a surgery slot booked for tomorrow. In theory.

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10.30am Wednesday 29th February

I AM GALLBLADDERLESS!!!

I am also insanely uncomfortable, but very very relieved.

Yesterday morning the surgeon-looking surgeon came round and said that they were doing an appendectomy at the moment, but that I was next on the list. This was very good news. So of course as soon as I got to the bathroom for my shower I had a mild panic attack. Changed my mind! Don't want the surgery! I'm fine! I'm going home!

But I didn't chicken out - not that mum would have let me. I'm not overly clear on all the pre-amble now. I do remember the anesthetist coming to the ward, which got mum and I excited because I'd never got that far in the preceedings before. And then they wheeled me away.

As I said, after that it gets a little hazy, but the important bit is that I got the damn operation. They got the gall bladder, and all of the stones, and they managed to do it laproscopically too - which was a surprise, but a nice one. I haven't seen my wounds yet, but I have got 6 little dressings, and dissolvable stitches so I won't need to come back. Everything went smoothly (even if it did take a little longer than usual: they estimated 2 hours and it took four) and there have been no complications so far.

They did put me back on my bed the wrong way round. Shortly after I woke up in recovery they tried to lift the head and it wasn't going, so they tried to plug it in, and the plug was at the wrong end. Eventually they figured out I'd been put back on the bed the wrong way round, so I had to sit up, swivel and lay back down again. It hurt, but I was waaayyyyy too high to care at the time.

Pain-wise, I'm not too bad if I don't move. Just uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. Moving is really painful, even on meds. I didn't move at all for the first 12 hours or so, then I really needed the loo. I made it to the bathroom under my own steam, although I needed help sitting up and getting out of bed. And I was utterly exhausted when I got back.

Then this morning I had a very grumpy moment when they made me get out of bed. It HURT. But I want to go home and I know that won't happen if I don't move. So I got out of bed, had a small wash here in my chair, and I didn't get back into bed once they'd changed the sheets - even though I really really want to sleep. I've even made it to the bathroom - with no assistance standing up.

The surgeon-looking surgeon has been back round and confirmed that everything went well. He thinks I should be able to go home tomorrow, but the nurses were talking about me going home today. I'd like to stay in another night, but I don't want the enforced routine or menu or the lack of sleep. I want to go HOME!!! The nurses have said that we can plan to go home tonight - gets meds and checks etc - and if I don't feel well at the time, then I can stay another night.

My jobs for the day are to eat, keep the food down, get up and walk occasionally, use the bathroom and manage the pain. Maybe, if I'm really lucky, I'll be able to stand up straight too.

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8.10am Thursday 1st March

I didn't make it home yesterday. I really was in too much pain. I couldn't shuffle in the bed properly. I was just ignoring that because I wanted to go home. But Mum said, and Cayden said, and the Dr said that I really needed another night in here. The sensible part of me agreed.

Then I woke up at 4am and stretched without thinking and realised that it didn't hurt. I tested all my ahces and hurts, and realised that most of it didn't hurt. I felt so much better I was half convinced that they'd injected me with morphine without telling me. I could move across the bed easily and cough without wanting to pass out. Transitioning from lying to sitting still hurt, but it was easier to walk. Just generally easier. There is still pain, but it's pretty much only in the surgical area - whereas yesterday it was everywhere between my knees and my neck. I'm a lot more comfortable too. I just generally feel better. Until I try to move.

But because it was planned for me to go home yesterday, I already have a big bag of take home meds, so there's no long wait today. I just need to see the Dr, then we can call mum and I can go home.

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1pm Thursday 1st March

I'm home! Finally. Safely esconced on the sofa. I'll post another update soon. Thank you for reading if you made it this far.

:-)

Introducing Jasper

On Monday evening my good new friend took me on a slightly roundabout trip to Longton, to pick up the newest member of my little feline family.

Meet Jasper.



He's 8 weeks old - born on November 4th - and he had to be rehomed because his owner is moving to Australia in the next couple of months. He is very very tiny.



My good new friend was so enamoured with Jasper's sister that she went back the next day and collected her :-) Who doesn't love kittens?

2012 Fantabulous Things: 1-50

The first sets are alphabetised, because I've stored them that way as I've collected them. They won't always be.

1) A Very Potter Musical

If you're a Harry Potter fan and you haven't already seen this, you must go to Youtube immediately and look at it.

2) American Horror Story

An interesting show that appeared this year.

3) Anita Blake novels

They're actually Laurell K. Hamilton novels about Anita Blake, but you know what I mean.

4) Being a Hogwarts student on Ravelry

5) Big Bang Theory

The TV show, not the event. Although I'm pretty sure the event was fantabulous too.

6) Bill Bailey



7) Blue Man Group

8) Bones

The TV show.

9) Buffy the Vampire Slayer

10) Captain Jack Harkness



11) Captain Jack Sparrow



12) Castle

The TV show with the amazing Nathan Fillion in.

13) Cayden

A very, VERY good friend who's been there for me when other "friends" haven't.

14) Chocolate caramel cookies

I was referring to the ones I made with Rolos and Pecans in a month or so ago. They were gooooood. Must make some more.

15) Christmas

16) Christmas trees

17) Clothes fresh out of the dryer in the winter

18) Cookies in general

19) Dancing in the rain

20) David Tennant



21) Desperate Housewives

22) Discworld



23) Dr Horrible's Sing-a-long Blog

24) Dr Who



25) (A Town Called) Eureka

26) Family Guy

27) Felt!



28) Finishing a project

29) Firefly

Why did they cancel it? Wwwwhhhyyyy???

30) Fresh clean pages of a new notebook

31) Fringe

32) Futurama

33) Generous strangers

34) Glee

35) Going on trips

36) Google

37) Grey's Anatomy

38) Harry Potter Fanfiction

39) Helena Bonham Carter



40) House



41) Jeffery Deaver books

42) Jennie

My likkle middle sister - aka Little Squish

43) Jensen Ackles



44) JK Rowling

45) Johnny Depp



46) Kitten cuddles

47) Kittens and toys

48) Kittens' faces when they singe their tail fur

49) Lee Evans




50) Leverage

The TV show. An American version of Hustle, basically.

2011 into 2012

Where to start? It's really hard to write this post at the moment, considering that I'm in the middle of an Episode and all I really want to do is curl up and cry. Or other things that are not nearly as healthy, but I'll try.

2011 was not the best of years. My relationship with Neil ended in March. I broke up with him, although of course I regret that. I've seen him twice in nearly two years, but my feelings for him haven't changed. I don't foresee them changing any time soon either. I still think of us as together. We both talk and text as though we are. And on the very rare occasions when he's up to it, we meet as though we're still together too. I'm not sure what's going to happen. As long as he's depressed, and we're sixty miles apart, it's not going to be easy. But for some stupid, stupid reason, I can't give up.

The photography missions failed... you might have noticed. It's hard to take pretty pictures when you're living nocturnally and don't have a high-end camera.

Project 200 is still going strong though. It's no longer a one year project. When I made the decision to work harder on opening an Etsy store, me and my adjudicator (Cayden) agreed that it could become a two year project instead of a one year. I'd intended to get to 75 (which is half the number needed for minimum pass) by New Year, but that hasn't happened, because I've been working on the store.

The weightloss failed. Miserably. I think I'm probably at least a stone or two heavier than I was this time last year. I managed to get into a cycle. I'd try and lose weight, put weight on, get depressed, binge eat, put weight on, get depressed... I was advised by a mental health professional to hold off on the weight loss until I had a better handle on the depression.

I got a little better with money. Sort of. I was just starting to get the hang of things, and pay my bills, and start to clear off my debts, and even save a little, when the stupid government decided it'd be a good idea to stop my benefits. They're in the process of switching over everybody on Incapacity Benefit to an Employment Support Allowance thing. They sent me the form, I filled it in, sent it back. And they decided that I had zero of the fifteen required points to qualify for ESA. Which is soooo wrong. And they'd had no information from my doctor either. So I'm appealing. At some point in the next month or two I'll have to go to a tribunal and hopefully they'll give me my benefit back. For a few weeks I had no income whatsoever, and was unsure of my financial future, but they are paying me now. About two thirds of what I was on, so I'm struggling a bit. It's all a big mess, but there's nothing I can do about it until the tribunal.

My depression has wavered a lot this year. It's been hard. I have a new kitten, Lexie:



And in the last few days I've managed to make a brand new friend - meaning that I now have three very close friends. I have about five other friends, all of them far away. I have hundreds of semi-friends on Ravelry who have sent me dozens of Christmas cards and lots of presents. But I'm so lonely. All the time. It doesn't go away.

My family has had a hard year. My youngest sister is now living with her dad, after all kinds of mayhem. My middle sister is barely speaking to our Mum. Most of the time it feels like my entire family has fallen apart, but there's nothing I can do to stop it, or to fix it.

I have lots of plans for 2012, but at the moment I'm struggling to see past how bad I feel at the moment. My sister is married and happy and they're looking for a house; all three of my brothers have beautiful children; two of those brothers are in happy, committed relationships and one of them got married this year. And then there's me. Living alone with my cats and no relationship. Feeling like a complete failure. My best friend in the world and I had a big falling out, and have a very tentative friendship at the moment. The love of my life is lost in a fog of his own depression and I don't know when or if I'll ever see him again. My financial situation is a complete mess, and I have no idea if that'll get better or much more worse. I turn 30 in 2012, and I have absolutely nothing to show for my life.

Aargh! I hadn't intended to get so miserable in this post. I'm going to go and get some food, then I'll come back and write my plans for this shiny new year.

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Okay, so I've had some food (bacon, beans and fried egg - nice healthy start to the year) and I've made some pointless lists and sorted some things out, so I feel a bit better.

I do have some good plans for 2012. Aside from continuing and finishing Project 200, I'm opening an Etsy store! Finally. I've been making plans to do it for a couple of years, but I finally decided that New Year's Day would be the opening day. I have a stock of products ready to go up, the store is all there waiting. We even have business cards!

Celeena Cree Creations!

Don't expect too much: there's nothing in there at the moment. But there will be by the end of the day.

I'm also raising money. I'm doing a Discworldathon to raise money for Alzheimer's Research. I have the first book - Colour of Magic - sat right beside me. I'm going to read a bit in a minute. I've set my first fundraising target at £150, and I've already raised nearly a third of that. I have £7.25 on my Justgiving page. Here! And I have another £39.50 pledged.

My other plan for this year is 2012 Fantabulous Things. I have a couple of hundred things already, and I'll add to them as I think of them, so keep an eye out for that.

My Christmas Post

So... are you ready for a nice picture-intensive post about my Christmas day? No? Tough :P

I started off the day with some delicious Sausage and Cheese muffins...



Then I put my prepared-on-Christmas-eve turkey in the oven and spent a few hours staring wistfully at my pile of presents.



Actually, I watched The Santa Clause and did some crochet, but I just wanted to show off how many presents I had :P

My turkey was a magnificent success!




The kitties enjoyed it too.



Lexie wasn't too happy with the hat from her cracker though. Hehehe



Then it was time for presents! And my god, I was spoiled. Aside from books and chocolate and teddy bears...



... and jewellery and socks and monkeys and candles and soaps and bubble bath... I got 34 balls of yarn! 34!!!



They varied from small balls of toy yarn, to huge expensive hanks of yarn that were specifically dyed for me. Look at them!






And I got this amazing little angel ornament that someone made for me.



And oh oh oh! One of the partners I got in a swap makes a living from handmaking colourful accessories and things. She made me this cute little Slytherin bag...



Check out the label she put in it.



Even the cats got presents. Quite a few actually. Here's one of their favourites.



And finally, just before the Doctor Who Christmas special, it was time for dessert. When we were little girls, Dad used to make Jennie and I a baked alaska for Christmas dessert, but once Tracy and the boys came along, it just wasn't possible. So this year I made my own.



That's chocolate cake, with mint choc chip ice cream on top, covered in meringue and stuck under the grill to brown. It was delicious, but took a bit of a strange effort to make.



Lol.

I hope you all had a lovely day :-)

Project 200 - 67/133

For this one you very nearly ended up with a picture of Lexie. She ran off with it overnight. The only reason you have a picture now is because she stupidly brought it out to play with just now and I could rescue it.

Have a very seasonal Christmas angel.



This is the second of a two-parter. It goes with the Devil from
here.

67 down
133 to go

A tiny heart-warming moment

It's 4 o'clock in the morning and I'm awake not because of my stupid timetable. I've actually been managing to keep to a fairly decent schedule recently. I'm awake because I'm having another attack of that back/stomach pain thing again. I don't know if I mentioned it on here.

I took some painkillers and sat in the only position that doesn't hurt - sat at the desk and hunched over a pillow. I put on my favouritest Christmas movie ever - The Santa Clause, and I waited for long few hours ahead to come to an end.

Once the pain started to ease a little, I sat back, and leaned my head against the wall behind me. Next thing I know, I'm watching a Christmas movie with Smudge curled up on my chest, and Lexie curled up on the desk just in front of me.

I enjoyed the cuddles, and enjoyed the moment. I have a large family, even though I'm not particularly close to most of them. Even those that I am close to, I'm geographically far from. This Christmas, Smudge and Lexie are my family, and it was really nice to be curled up with the two of them watching a Christmas movie.

Just thought I'd share my little middle-of-the-night heart-warming moment.

32 days

So guess what? It's nearly Christmas!! And I'm a little bit excited about it. This is nothing new. I've always loved Christmas. I tend to start getting excited about it in July. But I've seen the three signs of the Apocal... three signs of Christmas:

1) The Coca-Cola Christmas Advert
2) Children in Need has been on
3) I've received my first Christmas card

So I can officially start celebrating. And I'm not using Christmas to desperate cling to in order to distract myself from the chaos my life is in at the moment. Honest.

Okay, well maybe a little bit. But why shouldn't I? I'm am holding back though. Or trying to.

I brought myself a new Christmas tree, and it's already up. But mostly to see if it constructed okay, and to see how the cats dealt with it. Smudge was around last Christmas, but we were at Mum's and she was more interested in the dog than the Christmas tree. Lexie - the awkward/annoying/adventurous one - has never seen a Christmas tree. I was expecting her to climb it instantly, but so far she's completely ignored it. And Smudge just chews the bottom branches. I put the lights on a day or two okay, to see how they coped with that. Still nothing. I'm vaguely disappointed. Half the fun of Christmas and pets is stopping them climbing the tree. Maybe when I put the tinsel on this weekend they'll show more interest. But I'm not properly decorating the place until December 1st.

I've made myself an Advent calendar. (I LOVE FELT)



It's got chocolate coins in. They've been in there for nearly a week now without me attacking them. Of course, it's not December yet. That'll be the true test of my willpower. Can I make it to Christmas day without devouring all the chocolates? Probably not. I don't think I've done that since I was about 13. I think the furthest I've gotten would be the 10th or so. I will make it to the 24th this year. I will! Maybe.

I have Christmas day all planned out. I'm alone this year. Well, just me and the cats. The only other time I've ever spent Chrismtas alone was way back in 2004. My first Christmas in Stoke; just me and Gadget. Microwave dinner. Boredom. Misery. Binging. Distress. Suicidal-ness. But I LOVE Christmas! And since I appear to be turning into a crazy-cat-lady-spinster who'll be alone for the rest of her life, I need to learn to cope with Christmas alone. So I have all kinds of plans. Including a full roast dinner :-) Mum's sending me up a whole turkey. Me and the cats will have turkey sandwiches 'til New Year. Turkey sandwiches, and turkey chowder, and turkey curry. I've got some delicious recipes for parmesan roast potatoes, and cranberry stuffing. And plans for all the trimmings. I'll be watching all the holiday shows, and Christmas movies, and making gingerbread muffins. I'm even getting my stocking. Mum's decided I'm too old now, but I've convinced Cayden to make me one :-) (I am making him one in return). And presents!

One of my worries about spending Christmas alone was not having any presents to open. So I brought myself a couple of things, and wrapped them and gave them to Cayden. And I'm participating in a load of swaps on Ravelry. I've not opened any of the packages I've received since my birthday. They're all for Christmas day. Two of the swaps were Advent swaps - they contain 24 mini gifts each. When I received one of the packages, I messaged on the forum thread to say that I'd received it and to explain why I wouldn't be opening it just yet. I had over a dozen Ravellers demand my address so they could send me presents. I'd been having a bad day, and when I read those messages I almost burst into tears. Yet again, I'm utterly overwhelmed by the kindness and generosity of Ravellers.

Even the cats have some presents under the tree. Or they will do by Christmas day. I can't put them under now, because a certain little fluffypants will rip into them before Christmas. I have a teeny tiny santa hat for them too. It'll be interesting to see if I can get any decent pictures of them wearing it.

So, Christmas is all set. It will be fun, and enjoyable. Even if I have to kill someone to do it.

I kinda want to rant a little about the bad stuff that's going on in my life, but I don't want to spoil the Christmas post. I'll write all that crap later.

Merry Christmas!

Happy Holidays!

Jolly Kwanza!

Merry Hannukah!

Happy Christmakah!

Etc etc etc.

Not as Miserable as I Sound

For anyone who actually read my last post, or my blog in general, I just wanna let you all know that I'm not actually as miserable as I sound. Yes, I have depression. Yes, just getting up everyday takes a tremendous amount of effort. But I'm not miserable every second of every day.

My entire life when I've had a journal I've had the same problem. I write when I'm stressed, or frustrated, or miserable. And I rarely write when I'm happy and contented. So it looks like my life copmletely sucks. I've just never had an internet read my journal before. So I'll try to write more positive posts.

I did eventually get back to sleep yesterday. And I slept for a whole 17 hours. Felt great afterwards. Still do. I've been up all night technically (woke up at midnight), but I've gotten quite a bit done. I feel productive. I like feeling productive. One of my OCD things is writing lists. Obsessive lists. Lists of everything. The biggest being to-do lists. Lots of them. So when I get to check things off that list, it makes me feel good. I've crossed off a few today, and even though there's still a bajillion things left on it, I feel good.

Of course, feeling good might have a little to do with the hot chocolate cobbler I just ate, but I've counted it in my daily points total, so it's even guilt-free chocolate cobbler.

My life really isn't that bad. I could sit here and easily list the bad things, and there are plenty of them. But if you read my blog at all, you know most of them already. You probably don't know many (if any) of the good things.

I'm talented. I forget it sometimes, but I am. If you look around my house there are dozens of examples of beautiful cross stitch and cute little crochet/knit creatures. And although I've got writer's block at the moment, I have files of some pretty good writing. And a shelf full of books that my poems have been printed in.

I may not be conventionally attractive, but I'm cute. I have a little button nose, and big bright blue eyes. And if you ignore the myriad of scars, I have lots of soft, smooth, clear skin.

I'm generous, and kind, and friendly (once I get past the crippling shyness and anxiety). I'm good with kids. I'm good with animals. I cook the most delicious muffins, and I have a few other recipes I excel at. Creamy chicken and corn chowder, anyone? Chocolate cream pie? I know a certain gentleman who'd eat three of my chocolate cream pies if it wouldn't make his stomach explode.

And I'm lucky. I don't always feel like it, but I am. I have a roof over my head, and food to eat. I don't live in an area where I need to worry about terrorists or war. I have water and electric and heat and clothes. A lot of the time I feel like my life is completely pointless and that it isn't worth living. I need to remember that there are so many millions and millions of people who have it a lot worse than me. I may have trouble finding the energy to leave the house, but I do have a house I can be agoraphobic in. And I can afford the chocolate cake to binge on.

I might not have a social life, or many friends, but I still have people I can talk to. I have two friends who have stuck by me throughout all the shit I dole out, and who don't mind my foibles. They haven't abandoned me when I ranted about them. They're still my friends, and sometimes it might take them a while to reply to messages, but they always do. One of them is just simply wonderful. I admitted some things I'd lied to him about, and he didn't bat an eyelid. He's kind, and friendly, and sweet. And even though he has a lot of his own troubles, he's always there to help me deal with mine. He walks into town centres to get my meds when I can't, even though he's feeling ill himself. I wish I could adequately explain to him how grateful I am that he's my friend.

I have two beautiful cats, even if they are completely cuckoo. They pee in the wrong places, and they scratch, and they run around the house making a racket while I'm trying to sleep. But they're cute, and affectionate, and funny, and they give little nose-kisses, and they're my constant companions. Without my pets I'd be even more insane than I am now. Right now Smudge is asleep on a box. Well, she's trying to sleep. Lexie is on top of her, chewing on her own tail. Smudge is staring at her, like she wants her to explode. It's quite cute to see.

I'm not always happy, but I'm quite often content. Right now I'm content. My butt hurts from sitting on this awkward chair for too long, but I'm content.

Just wanted to let the internet know I'm not always miserable and stroppy.

Ode to Audrey

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote a post about how angry I was feeling with certain aspects of my life. In that post I referred to two different people. One of them, the male, was very understanding. He apologised for hurting me, and told me he wished he could express himself the way I do in my blog.

The other one didn't take it so well. A short time after I posted, I had a text message from her. An angry, offended message. I told her that I hadn't meant to upset her, that I was just being honest. I haven't heard anything from her since. Nothing. At all. It looks like that friendship is over.

And I am extraordinarly sad about that. I've known her for four and a half years, and in that time she completely changed my life. We are very, very different people, but we have a lot in common too. We both love America. We both struggle with depression. We both find rockers extremely attractive. We both love peanut butter. We both like crafting.

In fact, she was the person who taught me to knit. For months and months I would cross stitch while she would knit, and she would offer to teach me, and I would tell her to sod off. And eventually I gave in. And I am so grateful that I did. I love knitting, and knitting lead to crochet, which I also love.

She taught me a lot. Before her, I'd wear jeans and a t-shirt. I always had my hair up in a ponytail. Now I wear dresses, and skirts, and jewellery, and I get haircuts, and hairstyles (ish), and very occasionally I wear a bit of makeup. I'm still not a girly-girl, but I'm ever so slightly more refined that I was before her.

I have a tattoo that represents her. I always said I wouldn't get tattoos for people, but I decided that even if we never spoke again, she'd had such a huge impact on my life that I wanted to commemorate that. So on my back I have a red heart intertwined with a purple star. The red heart represents her, and the purple star is for me. Red was always her colour, and she doodles a curly heart beneath her signature. And my favourite colour is purple, and my signature shape is a star.

I influenced her a little too. At least, I like to think so. She now has that swirly heart tattooed on her hip. And hopefully I rubbed off a little bit of her "goody two shoes". I made her a little bit badder, and she made me a little bit gooder. And let's ignore that horrendously bad grammar.

I'm glad that she is happy with her boyfriend, and her job, and her life. And I want nothing more than for her happiness to last. But I am very sad that I can't be a part of what makes her happy.

I think about her a lot. When I think a rnadom thought, or have something to celebrate, or something to commiserate, I still want to text her. And everything reminds me of her. One of the handmade soaps that I received this morning smells like J'adore, her signature perfume. I made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, which made me think of her. I found an old theatre ticket. I saw an advert for Wicked.

We did a lot, she and I. There was That Summer - lots of debauchery I shall not get into. And several incidents involving alcohol. All of which make me smile now that I look back at them. She was my "plus one" at my aunt's birthday party, and at my sister's wedding. She met, and enchanted, my entire family. She helped me rehome my cat, and collect several cats, and collect and rehome a rabbit. We shopped in Camden, and cried during a theatre trip to Wicked. We saw comedians, and dodgy musical shows, and brilliant musicals. I will never hear a song from Wicked and not think about her. Or Joseph the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. Or Phantom of the Opera. I will never watch Strictly Come Dancing without thinking about her. Or a vampire movie. Or a Spiderman movie. Or read a vampire novel. Or eat a quiche. Or a Morrison's salad, or drink milkshake, or eat a doughnut without thinking about her. I will never go to a circus without thinking about her. I'll stop here. I could write an encyclopedia of things that will remind me of her.

I love her, and I miss her, and I hope our estrangement will end at some point in the future.

I do have to say though, that I don't regret that post. I regret that I hurt her, but I don't regret using my blog to vent my frustrations.
I

Lexie

You see this adorable ball of brown and white and ginger fluff? She's so sweet. She's cute and cuddly and affectionate and amusing. She also pees everywhere. ABSOLUTELY EVERYWHERE.

I've had her for around two months now, and for the entire time she's been peeing on my bed. With or without me in it. I changed the type of litter I used, and got her a separate tray in case she didn't want to share with Smudge. And she's litter trained. She'll use the tray. But she also pees on the bed. I brought a nice expensive deodorising pet spray, to remove her scent. And I've used it all up already. I tried squirting her with water when she squats. I tried putting a litter tray in the bedroom. I tried picking her up and plonking her in the tray every time she squats. I recently spent two weeks in the bedroom so that I could watch her every second. All to no avail.

The current plan is keeping her out of the bedroom. All the time. Which sucks, because I like it when my girls sleep with me. And for the past few days I've been letting her in for 10-20 minutes at a time. During those times I don't do anything at all except watch her. And she's only squatted once. I was beginning to optimistically hope that it might be working. And then...

Today I discovered that she's been peeing in the living room. Oh, and I found stains in the bedroom in places other than the bed. She peed on my hand-knitted blanket. She peed on a pile of stuffed toys. She's been peeing on the sofa. She peed on a couple of bags of yarn I had lying around. She peed in every single open box on the living room floor - which is quite a few, cos Smudge likes to sleep in them.

I don't know what to do now. I've googled, and I'm going to buy an orange-scented room spray on Tuesday, because apparently cats don't like orange. I'm also going to take her to the vet to get her checked for a UTI. But I can't do that for two weeks. I need to go to the PDSA to register her on Tuesday, and then make an appointment. And unless they have an appointment free on Tuesday, I can't afford to take her until two Tuesdays after that.

Is it wrong that I hope she has an infection? If she has an infection, we can cure it and she'll stop peeing. If she doesn't have an infection, then I'm all out of ideas. Short of never doing anything ever again aside from follow her around and squirt her when she squats.

Cheesed Off

Here are just a few reasons why I'm cheesed off right now..

- things in my family have gotten messy and I can't do anything to help
- everybody in my family is annoyed at everyone else for crossed messages and not understanding things and just the stupid situation as it stands
- I have a headache. Not that nice kind of headache you can sleep through, but the evil kind that wakes you up in tears because it's so flipping bad
- One of my friends is too busy with her life to reply to text messages
- My other friend is still awol. Alive, according to the offline MSN message I got, but that's all I've heard from him in over a week
- I'm annoyed at myself that I only have two friends I can hang out with
- An old friend keeps texting to see what I'm up to and asking if he can come over - despite the fact that the last time we spoke he spent two hours insulting me and my life
- I've been chatting to guys online, trying to make friends, and we get on okay until I mention I only want to be friends, then they vanish, or block me
- The one guy who didn't vanish is still persistently being overly flirty, and if I don't respond to a text within ten minutes he sends the exact same text again
- I don't have the energy to get up and do anything
- I can't focus on more than one or two rows of any craft project
- I can't muster the energy to go and sit in the lounge, and I can hear both cats outside the bedroom door meowing because I won't let them in, but I can't let them in because Lexie won't stop peeing on the bloody bed
- I don't have vast amounts of ice cream in the freezer
- I don't have ANY ice cream in the freezer
- I'm in love with someone who is in love with me, but it won't work and I have to deal with that fact, but I really don't want to
- I'm going stir crazy in my house, but I have absolutely no where to go
- Even if I had somewhere to go, I have no money to get there
- I'm lonely as hell
- I'm frustrated, due to certain urges having been awoken
- I'm annoyed because I've woken up hours earlier than intended, but I can't get back to sleep


- I'm not incredibly annoyed because every time I phone my mother, about anything, we end up getting into an argument about Michaela and she yells at me
- I'm annoyed that I actually let myself believe that my relationship with that woman had gotten any better
- I'm annoyed with life in general, and I hate everything

How I'm Feeling Right Now

Shit. Crap. Rubbish. Lonely. Stupid. Miserable. Pathetic.

There. That's how I'm feeling right now. I was feeling much better than that earlier. Chatting on MSN with a handsome Scotsman. And by "chatting" I mean "flirting". Made me feel lovely. But then he decided to do a disappearing act, and now I feel foolish and pathetic.

Smudge is still hissing at Lexie. Lexie is the new kitten, by the way. They haven't fought, and Lexie doesn't run and hide. She'll stand her ground, hair on end, not looking happy while Smudge hisses and growls and hisses and growls. And I know that it'll wear off, even though it might take a few weeks, but I'm tired and upset and the hissing is really grating on my nerves.

I'm lonely. I don't have a lot of family I'm close to, but even the ones I could hang out with are hundreds of miles away. One of my three friends has been far too busy for me in months, and hasn't been bothered to check on me since I broke up with Neil. I think the second friend is asleep. And the third friend is Neil - who I think has decided we shouldn't be talking, since he hasn't replied in a day or two. Plus, I can't really talk to him about how I feel.

That's it. All my sources of comfort and support and distraction. I like my own company; I like having control over everything in my home and things. And in a social situation I'd much rather be with a few close friends somewhere quiet than with hundreds of people in a nightclub or a festival. But right now, when I feel lost and pathetic, I just feel alone and horrible. How pathetic am I that the only cuddles and comfort I can get is from cats?

Nameless kitten

So, despite my deep desire to own a dog, I got another cat. I would really, REALLY love to have a dog, but right now I can't really afford one, and I'm not really fit enough to walk one. Plus, I was offered this beautiful little ball of fluff..



He is a 7 and a half week old little ball of fluff. Except that he has a vagina, so he's not actually a he. He's also currently nameless. I had some ideas, but none of them really fit him. And he hasn't provided me with one of his own yet, like Smudge did. I'm sure it'll come to me.

Please forgive the bad pictures: I haven't had him during a daytime yet, and the lighting in my apartment is atrocious.





She's only been here a few hours so far, and has been isolated to the bedroom. She came in, looked around, ate a lot, then fell asleep. Slap bang in the middle of the bed, leaving me with just the edges. But she woke up about half an hour ago and has been running around squeaking at everything, including me any time I move. She doesn't appear to have developed a meow yet, just a squeak.

Smudge has been given reign of the living room. I went in to see her earlier, and make sure she knows I still love her. She had a sniff around the house, but didn't go anywhere near the bedroom. I don't think the dozy beast has even cottoned on that there's another animal in the house. She'll figure it out eventually.