Empathy

When I wrote last week’s blog post Rainbow Bridge  I never expected in a million years the response that it received. It wasn’t just me hubby had people coming up to him in work, telling him that they couldn’t read it without shedding a tear or that it said what they felt but had never been able to express it. I had followers on Instagram contacting me about their recent losses and long ago losses too. On Facebook it was the same, with many people contacting me or leaving a comment. . It was emotionally hard as I am very empathetic, so when people start to get tearful when they are talking to me, it makes me cry too. But when I wrote the post I was half expecting it to stir up a lot of emotions because I had been in such a mess as I wrote it. I have to be honest I never did a final check on the post to look for errors, mainly because I found it so upsetting to read, it was real and raw. I haven’t even gone back to look at it now to refresh my memory before writing this one. I just can’t do it, I have already been in tears today twice over the dogs. It is always just bubbling away under the surface for me at the moment, although to look at me or to see any of my social media posts you would never know.

I am so touched that something I have written has moved so many people. I thank each and everyone of you who commented or messaged me. It was very hard last Thursday as I had no idea how it would be received. I had no clue if people would think I was wallowing, being self indulgent or a drama queen. That people would think that I should pull myself together and get on with the rest of my life. I promise you I am not self indulgent, wallowing or being a drama queen. I just write about life and my experiences. I try to give a voice to those feelings that we push down and don’t let anyone else see. I take a chance that people won’t reject me or ridicule me because I try to talk about things that many would rather brush under the carpet. Although there have been several articles regarding the death of a pet in National newspapers it is still treated with some degree of disbelief by those who have never had an animal / pet in their lives. 

The whole point of my post was for you – whoever you are, know that it is ok to feel whatever you are feeling, to express your grief ( and it is your’s and no one else’s) anyway that you like. That these feelings are totally normal. You are not weird, you aren’t wallowing in your grief, you aren’t an attention seeker and you are certainly not being a drama queen. You are hurting and it will take time to process all that emotion. Hell I am only 8 months on and there are days where I can barely keep it together. Days where all I do is cry. Days when I feel guilty when I know rationally I have absolutely nothing to feel guilty about. I just wanted you to know you aren’t going mad, I honestly thought at times I was losing it. All of those feelings, even the uncontrollable rage that even surprises you when you roar, is totally normal. It is the beast called grief and it doesn’t have to be something that you go through alone.

As I touched on in my blog post even when you have suffered from a significant bereavement such as a partner / child / sibling / parent / friend, people who haven’t been through that kind of grief can’t begin to imagine the enormity of the feelings of loss and pain. They may see you red faced, tear stained and see your grief but that is soon forgotten because it has no direct impact on their lives. The next time they see you, taking the kids to school, going to work, getting the shopping – all things you have to do despite the pain and grief they assume you are “better”. They don’t understand that grief goes on forever. They seem to think that grief has a timeline and by a certain amount of time say 6-12 months maybe sooner if they are real dicks, you “should” be “over” it. How do you explain that there is no getting over it? You are just getting through each day the best you can. There will be good days, bad days and the worst kind of days.  Life will probably never be the same again. But there will never be or has there ever been for anyone who is grieving a time when they are over it. Getting Over It has to be the most grotesque phrase ever. Followed by Time is a great healer. There is no healing from grief, you carry that pain forever.

I had people contacting me about dogs they had lost thirty years ago during their childhood that they still mourned for.  Others told me about their recent losses that they just couldn’t process or that in the proceeding days before my blog post it had hit them, after thinking that they could keep going and carry on as normal. I was quite honest when I spoke to them and told them Jay and I have very little memory of January and February this year.

 We know we got Dembe, we know he was tiny but ask us to recall anything significant like where we took him on his first walk. What the date of his first walk was, his first bark, his first growl all the stuff we would normally remember and we draw a blank. It’s not because we didn’t care about it, purely our brains were overloaded processing what had happened when we lost Frankie and Mollie within 7 days of each other. I am so glad that I started the Dembe Diaries blog and his diary that I base the blog on, so that in years to come I can look back and see all those things in black and white that my brain was unable to absorb at the time.

 I do remember Jay barely spoke in the first 4-5 days after it happened. It was quite stressful as I went into list mode, trying to control everything because my anxiety spiked. His anxiety spiked because I was making so many demands on him all the time and obviously he needed to have some control in his life too. It was very difficult trying to get him motivated to help me sort the house out ready for Dembe’s arrival. Especially as we couldn’t stand being in the house as it was just full of reminders of how empty it was. We did cry together and we did talk about our babies, all of our babies. But the pain and grief was hard because although it has happened to both of you (or all of you) it is also an individual thing that no one can make better or take away from you. People grieve in different ways. Just because Jay wasn’t breaking down in tears every 5 minutes like I was didn’t mean he wasn’t hurting or struggling to cope. You only had to take a look at him, ashen faced, tired and so very quiet, grief and pain was written all over him. For a few days I was worried that he was going to drop down dead from a heart attack or stroke he looked so ill.  

Grief is weird one minute you can feel like you are doing ok and the next minute it feels like the world is imploding. There is no rhyme or reason to it, you are carried on its current and it takes you wherever it pleases. There is no control of it, it controls you initially, even denying you sleep when it wants to. Both Jay and I suffered from terrible insomnia in the 7 days after Mollie and Frankies passing. We would find ourselves downstairs in the middle of the night watching crap on the TV whilst eating chocolate biscuits and drinking sugary tea in the hope we would just pass out from a sugar overdose. I remember one day within about 20 minutes of each other we both left the electric shower on, when we left the bathroom, returning to it a few minutes later, neither of us could work out why we had left it running. We had no recollection of leaving the bathroom.  Life really was being lived on autopilot, all we could do was keep putting one foot in front of the other and get through another day.

I want to tell you that things do get better, the grief becomes less overwhelming.  I feel like I am finally starting to live life again instead of just simply going through the motions. I am not saying that in 8 months you will also be feeling better, it could be less time it could be substantially more time. But there will come a time when you let a breathe out and know that you are starting to be you again.

Up until about a week ago the last time I listened to music and enjoyed it was 29th December 2018. That was the day that Frankie passed away and I had been listening to my Sinead O’connor LP. I didn’t play any music for a couple of weeks. After that time had passed, I tried but I found the noise too much and overwhelming. I had no emotional connection to the music. I would rather be in silence or have the TV on low in the background.  For the last two weeks I have played music non-stop. I have sung at the top of my voice and quite possibly scared the neighbours. I have found the joy in music again. I haven’t played my Sinead O’Connor LP, I think that one will take some time. I may not play it again for several years, I’m not setting myself a target, I will let it happen, I won’t force it. One day I will sing something from the album and it will be like an ear worm that won’t die until I play it. At the moment anything from that LP makes me sad.

We have also started planning things for the future. We have booked  a short break in the UK next year and we will be taking Dembe with us. It is very exciting. This will be the first time since 2006 that Jay and I have had any sort of holiday. It is only 3 nights away but it will do us all some good just to get out of the house and away from the day to day. I am nervous as hell as I have become a real homebody since becoming ill. Other than stays in hospital I haven’t been away from the house in 13 years. It is hilarious to me that I am getting a bit anxious thinking about it when Jay and I have travelled to Sri Lanka, USA (Florida), Antigua, Paris, Menorca and various places all over the UK for weddings / christenings. I know that we can do it, it is just my world has been so very small over the last 13 odd years.

So please be kind to yourself, wherever you are in your journey with grief. Everyone does grief differently, there is no one size fits all. What works for you may not work for anyone else.  Remember living life does not mean that you have forgotten those who are no longer with us. At some point things will get easier, you will reach a new normal. It is not a journey you have to do alone. If more of us start talking about grief and how it affects us we will educate those who have never experienced it and maybe create a little more empathy. The world could really do with more empathy at the moment.

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I am a survivor

Well I am still not feeling the blog. I don’t know what’s going on but I am really finding it hard to come up with stuff to write about. I am spending 7 days waiting for inspiration to strike and it just isn’t happening. By Tuesday each week I am in a bit of a panic, I like to try and write on a Tuesday if Jay goes out running errands. If not I will wait until Wednesday morning but I don’t like leaving it until Wednesday as I always panic if I have a migraine or something and no blog post is produced.

At the moment the days are just merging into one. I haven’t seen any of my friends for over a month although I keep in regular contact with some of them. I have come to realise over the last 8 months that some of the people that I thought for there for me, disappeared when Frankie and Mollie passed away.  I understand that everyone has their own lives and families, with their own shit to deal with but it has been a very isolating experience. Some people have made a supreme effort to be present and other well not so much. It’s ok as I have a long memory and will be sure to return the favour when the shit hits the fan in their lives. I didn’t expect to be visited constantly but the occasional text message would have been nice, especially when they know my situation of living alone and Jay working.

Thankfully though I am pretty self sufficient, whilst dealing with my grief, I was juggling a new puppy and attempting to find time to sew / embroider. It hasn’t been easy but Dembe and I have found a new routine that works for us. He is pretty good at entertaining himself whilst I am busy sewing. He always positions himself in a location where he can keep an eye on me and ensure he knows if I have moved. He likes one of three places, the bed by the washing machine, the sofa that looks into the kitchen or out under the gazebo on the bench surrounded by all the cushions. I can’t believe my luck that he doesn’t get bored and then start destroying things. When I have finished sewing he knows that is our time and I will ensure I spend the time playing with him, doing training or just cuddles depending on his energy levels. I have been blessed with a pup that is so very well behaved and so very loving. His favourite spot for sleeping is right beside me on the sofa. This is him right now as I am writing this post.

My life has totally changed this year, I have re-assessed a lot of relationships. I have made the decision that I won’t swim an ocean for people who wouldn’t jump a puddle for me. I have decided that instead of worrying about what everyone is thinking or saying about me behind my back and believe me you’d be surprised the shit I hear being spoken about me by people who should know better, that I shall just carry on living my life and enjoying myself. The best revenge on those sad twats is to enjoy yourself and plaster it all over social media. It totally then fucks up all the fairy tales that they have been telling people for years.

I am also getting out of the house a lot more, this does have to be limited and planned for. I haven’t suddenly magically got better, it is just with one dog things are a lot easier. Especially as Dembe is such a friendly dog and on the whole pretty well behaved, although we have now hit the teenage years and recall seems to be a take it or leave it thing! Fatigue still grinds me down. I like using my energy for things for things that make me happy. So using my mobility scooter on Woodbury Common and getting out with Jay and Dembe has been unbelievably healing and grounding. 

It has been the one thing I have missed most since I got sick. The wheelchair trike although brilliant is an absolute ballache to transport. The wheelchair is fixed framed so that would take up the whole boot and then I would have to juggle the trike attachment with me in the front of the car. Not exactly safe. Then I piled on a load of weight when I developed my CSF leak and was virtually bed bound for a year, then in 2017 and 2018 we suffered a number of bereavements and I tend to self medicate with gin, chocolate and junk food / takeaways. I was 5 stone over the optimum user weight for the trike. So anytime I did try to use it the battery drained in minutes. I’ve been too embarrassed to say that because I allowed myself to get fat as fuck, I haven’t been able to use it. Hopefully now I am back losing weight ( it’s taken me until the last month to feel like I can actually do it) and I am back to 3 stone down, ideally at least another 3 to go so I will be massively under the optimum user weight. The trike will be used in the future as it is more suited to the rough and rugged environment of the common.

I do love my mobility scooter though and it has given me back my independence. It is easily taken apart to it can fit in the back of the car. It makes life so much easier if I need to go to the doctors or the hospital for appointments.

Over the 2 months I have got back into sewing and actually enjoyed it rather than feel I am going through the motions. From January until June I made a bloody good show of pretending I was ok, ensuring I used my embroidery machine every week and appeared to be enjoying myself. At points I felt like I was dying inside. I felt like a shell of the person I was. I didn’t feel I could voice the pain I was in. I know others struggle with grief especially when it is over an animal and not a human being.  Like I said earlier it has been one of the most isolating experiences of my life. There just felt like there was no one there. I do wonder if there had been someone their if I would have still felt so isolated.

I do have a tendency when things are tough to disappear into myself and attempt to shut out the world. I still kept on posting on social media, I still kept the creative things going but in all honesty I was going through the motions. It is only now that I can watch anything remotely sentimental without breaking down immediately. I only now feel like me. I feel like I have been on some weird journey where at points I lost myself. It is true what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger because in January / February this year I honestly thought the pain would kill me or I wished it would.

So I skillfully went off on a tangent there, I am enjoying sewing again and being creative rather than having to force myself to do it in the hope at some point the joy would come back. I am still working on my scrap busting quilt sew along. I found out yesterday that it is between a double (bed) and king size (bed) size, so it definitely is the largest one I have ever worked on. I made the back panel for it yesterday.

And in case you have forgotten what the front looks like

This morning I sorted out the wadding ( what you call batting in the USA ) which needed sewn together. I also made some plastic templates  to draw around as I have decided to tray something totally different with the quilting. It has taken me a few days of mulling it over to come to my plans. I have drawn it out so I have something to refer to. I now just need to have Jay clear the floor space in the lounge so that I can put my quilt sandwich together quilt back + wadding / batting + quilt top. I use temporary basting spray to hold it together but as it is so large I will also be pinning it. This ensures that the fabric stays nice and flat so it doesn’t shift and give you puckers. I also managed to sort out the binding yesterday. So it is all ready to be quilted shortly. I will be quite glad when it is finished now as I hate half done projects hanging around. I am really ready to now get myself into new projects and stretch my skills.

Anyway I started with no clue where this post was going and have managed to ramble on forever!

Dembe has changed locations

He likes it so he knows exactly where I am in the house at all times.

I think this year I have learnt, a lot and we are only in August. My heart has hurt more than I ever thought possible without keeling over and dying. I have learnt in the depths of grief you are still able to love unconditionally and you must never feel guilty for that. I have also learnt that the majority of people run away from grief and think that is acceptable behaviour. Despite all this I have come back stronger, love another dog more than I ever thought possible but when you have this gorgeous mutt in your life how could you not?

And yes he is holding my thumb in his mouth!

This is the year that nearly broke me, the year that changed everything and has just proved to me I am a survivor.

Time for a change

For those of you who have followed my blog for some time you will have noticed this week that on both platforms, Blogger and WordPress that my blog sites have had a makeover. 

The reason behind the change was two-fold, firstly it was just time for a change and secondly it was time to move forward. Both platforms used photo’s of Frankie as part of the blog. My Myasthenia kid page had a photo of Mollie and Frankie from the summer as its banner. Every time I went on the page it was a very real reminder of everything we have lost and the grief I feel. The time both Frankie and Mollie have been gone can still be counted in weeks, I still feel very sad most days. When you are with your dogs like I was 24/7 for the last 11 years they become a massive part of your life. It was like losing two members of my family, the family I have made with Jay. Still having them on the Facebook Myasthenia kid page and as a huge part of both blog platforms felt wrong. Although I will mourn them forever it was time to move forward and the new chapter of our life is now with Dembe our yellow Labrador. Not featuring him when he is a major part of my life felt disloyal to him. So hence the change.

I’ve known since the day we lost them both that the day would come that I felt strong enough to update the look of my blogs and Facebook page. I needed there to have been enough time passed that I wouldn’t feel guilty for changing things. It still took an awful lot to change the banner of my Facebook page associated with this blog. I wondered if people would think it was too soon or that I didn’t care about Mollie and Frankie. No one has said anything and deep down I knew they wouldn’t but you are still very conscious of how things may look to other people. 

The blogs were a spontaneous decision on Saturday night, when Jay was working late. I hadn’t like the look of blogger for ages and I needed to change the banner of the WordPress sites. I had taken a lovely photograph of some tree’s a couple of weeks ago and thought it would make a nice banner / background. I love Woodbury Common it has strong emotional ties for me. Every dog we have ever owned has been walked there, it was where I would go to forget the stress of everyday life before I became too sick to walk the dogs. To have that represented on the blog and it being my photograph gives me a sense of pride.

I also needed to change my Google Avatar. The photo had been a black and white one of me and Frankie. It is one of those things where every time I saw the photo I would hold my breath and wait for the pain in my heart to start. I have now changed it over to a lovely photo of Dembe. I wanted to start to look forward as I have been feeling a lot better of late. More like me and not totally bogged down in my grief. 

It has taken time for me to accept that I am allowed to look to the future and how our life with Dembe will be. Being an only dog he is even more the focus of my attention. He must some days wish that I would shut up as I talk to him constantly. He is the thing ( along with Jay ) that has got me through these last few months, who has forced me to get out of bed, to socialise when all I wanted to do was go to bed and just not have to deal with the world. Although it has been really hard on occasion I have made it through 100% of my worst days and that is an achievement.

The final thing I changed was my profile photo on my social media accounts. For a year possibly more it had been a close up photograph of Frankie’s nose. People always ask me about it as it was a cute photo but when you have just lost a faithful companion it can be really difficult emotionally to talk about it and people assume that he is still with us. I then have to say that he isn’t and that compounds the hurt. So I have changed this over to a photo of Dembe because when I speak about him I don’t feel sad. 

It took longer than I thought it would to change all the stuff. Whilst updating all my social media accounts I realised some of them were out of date and they still talked about Mollie and Frankie. So it was sad updating them but I do need to do this. I will never forget them they were a massive part of my life. They the three of them saved me when I was grieving for Travis our first Weimaraner and then when I became sick. I don’t know if I would still be here without their love and affection. Dembe has done the same shown me that there is light at the end of the tunnel and that it is ok to be sad as long as it doesn’t dominate every waking hour. 

So I hope you like what I have done to the blogs etc I think you will agree it was time for a change.

Dembe aged 24 weeks

Solitary confinement

I’m used to my own company, I am in fact quite a solitary character. I don’t need to be surrounded by other people, as I can entertain myself. However sometimes the loneliness of chronic illness really gets to me. I am having a wobble.

 

Mr Myasthenia Kid had two weeks off work (as annual holiday) in August, it’s the longest he’s taken as holiday in years. Normally he takes a week here and there throughout the year. Always holding some back in reserve in case he needs to take time off to look after me or take me to medical appointments. Usually by the end of his weeks holiday I am happy to send him back to work, as I have my own routine and ways I like to get stuff done. This time however I am finding hard to adjust to not having him home with me. We had a lovely two weeks together, laughing, talking and generally just being together and now the house just seems so empty and quiet. It’s been quite hard to g back to it just being me for long stretches at a time.

 

It is really hard to explain how empty the house seems, it’s not like he takes up lots of room or that he makes loads of noise. It’s just I got very used to his presence and having someone to talk to. When you are chronically sick and virtually housebound your world gets very small. You only see the people who can be bothered to make the time to see you. Being below retirement age all of my friends are working and have families of their own, so I am very grateful for the time I do get to spend with them . With the pace of life these days, it’s very easy to be forgotten about, out of sight out of mind. I found that back in 2008 when I left work, that all these people who I had known for 12 years who I believed were my friends, just disappeared. They think a quick comment on your Facebook page is a get out of jail free card, it doesn’t replace seeing someone in the flesh and having a conversation.

 

Most of my friendships are now online and I have made some truly wonderful friends. Particularly on Instagram amongst the crafting / sewing / creative community. I am lucky to have got sick in an age where to talk to someone I just have to open up my computer but it doesn’t replace the physical presence of another human being. I am grateful for the online friends I have but I would imagine they would agree that proper physical contact with other human beings trumps any other contact with the outside world.

 

I have always been quite a solitary character, my own company isn’t something that has ever daunted me. In fact there are days where I cherish the time I spend alone. I like being able to step back from the outside world but I also like to spend time in it or as close as I can. I like a balance of both but due to my health being so utterly rotten this year, I have barely seen anyone since the end of June. I have literally gone weeks and the only person I have spoken to is Jamie. Can any of you who aren’t chronically sick imagine what that is like, that the only contact you have with the outside world is with one person? It’s no ones fault, this isn’t a dig at any of my friends as it has been me doing the cancelling due to not being well enough. Is it any wonder now that after having two weeks of company I am finding going back to being alone so very difficult? I am grateful that we have the dogs but their conversational skills are very limited.

 

It’s hard to explain but my heart hurts with the loneliness and the missing Jay. I know he’s only 7 minutes up the road but the house is so quiet it  is deafening.

 

Every year around Christmas time there is always a campaign about loneliness and the elderly. Every year I want to scream at the TV it’s not just the elderly who are lonely in this country. There are hundreds of thousands if not millions of people whose lives are blighted by illness who see no one for weeks on end other than their caregivers or partners. It is assumed that if you are aged between 18-67 that you are in work but there are many of us who can’t work, who are housebound who are crying out for some company yet we are the forgotten ones. I don’t know if it is because people don’t understand chronic illness and can’t get their heads around the fact that there are working age people, who through no fault of their own do not have the social outlet of work and are just forgotten. It’s like we don’t exist.

 

I am extremely lucky I have friends who do come and visit me. I really appreciate those visits and I hate it when I have to cancel due to my health deciding to have a hissy fit. It takes a lot for me to cancel because I don’t know when they will be able to visit again. There are lots of people in my position who never see anyone. I know I am lucky, I am just sad this week as I am finding it so hard to adjust to Jamie being back at work.

 

I know given a few more days I will have got myself back into a routine and I will be used to being on my own again. I thank my lucky stars for my cyber friends who are so supportive and caring. Even though I am shit at messaging people because I am always in my own little bubble. I have an issue where I think of someone, say to myself “oh I must message them” and two weeks later I realise I haven’t. I’m currently struggling with what day of the week it is. Not because there has been a bank holiday it’s purely that I have no clue. To give you an example of how bad it is at the moment, I had no clue today was Thursday and was quite surprised when I started to get notifications on my blogs Facebook page. It was only when I looked I realised that my blog post for this week had been published. I tend to write them in advance and schedule them in to be published automatically. This morning I had no idea that it was Thursday. I do however know who the prime minister is and what year I was born! Just in case anyone is concerned about my mental status. It’s just the days are currently blurring into one.

I also know that the way I am feeling now is probably a reaction to all the stress I have been under lately. My mum has had some pretty major surgery that was needed out of the blue. Adrenaline has carried me through for weeks. Now things are starting to calm down, I have the time to spend analysing my feelings because during that time period it was just getting through that day that mattered. It was a frightening / stressful time. In a year of horribly stressful and sad events. I know I just need to get back into a routine and allow myself the period of adjustment instead of being so hard on myself that I am struggling to adapt.

 

This probably  seems quite a depressing read, I’m sorry. I have just really been surprised at the depth of feeling that Jays return to work has caused me. I don’t think in the nearly 22 years we have been together that I have ever missed him so much. Silly really as every night he is home, every morning he is here. Just at the moment being in the house alone seems a little like solitary confinement.

 

P.s Its over a week later and I am back into my old routine. I am enjoying the time I have to myself and have been really productive on the sewing front.  I have also had a visit from some friends which was really nice. Obviously I still miss Jay during the day but it’s not like the deep ache in my heart I had before. I  am much happier now that I have re-adjusted to the time spent alone.

 

Even Weirder

If last week was a weird week I haven’t got a clue what this one should be called! I had more vertigo, a migraine from hell, so bad that Mr Myasthenia Kid had to take the day off from work to look after me – more about that later and I can’t share any of my sewing makes over the last few days as they are all birthday presents for friends between 23rd June and the end of August. A little frustrating when I am so pleased with all of them, The good news is that my sewing job list on my phone for the months of May and June have reduced dramatically!

 

As I wrote in my last blog post I attended a course last Wednesday regarding how to use my overlocker. I was so excited about the course and I hate to say it but it was a real let down. It was everything a teaching session shouldn’t be. In a previous lifetime (1996-2005) I held the position of Training Manager at my place of employment. I was responsible for all the training that took place for the 350 plus staff we employed at the time. Not only that I was also sent to various other locations throughout the south-west to teach other Training Managers (they were also sent to work with me to get an understanding of their role) and to teach staff for new store openings. I loved the job and I am not afraid to say that I was bloody good at it. It broke my heart when head office in its wisdom decided to get rid of the role. Training quality immediately plummeted – in my workplace. I have been sorely tempted over the last few years to do  a  freedom of information request to see how many court cases they have had since removing the Training Manager role.

 

So with nearly ten years of teaching under my belt, I know that people have varied learning styles. Some learn by watching something and then having a go, some people learn by reading a manual and some people learn by a mixture of those two. Unfortunately the course seemed to be mainly the us the students sat at our machine with the trainer talking at us. So bored was I that I actually got my phone out and started to look at Facebook – discreetly. I didn’t want to be rude but I had to do something to keep myself awake as the stairs getting up to the classroom had nearly killed me. Oxygen was almost required – this was not suitable for the disabled sewist.

 

The course had been billed as getting to know your machine – I’d had mine since 13th April so rather than being terrified I had dived straight in. It became clear talking to the other 7 pupils ( excluding my mum, yes 9 people to one tutor how on earth could all of us see anything when she demonstrated at a machine?) that they had never even opened the boxes that their overlockers had come in, that possibly mum and I were too advanced for this course. I obviously wound the tutor up when after she dramatically cut all 4 threads on my overlocker and asked me to re-thread it and I had it done in less than 5 minutes. She told me off for using my machine when I was checking that it was chaining (working properly). She didn’t realise that I had threaded it and actually knew a little about what I was doing. The course went downhill from there.

 

Three people’s machines broke during the day and not once did the tutor offer any support, instead there were sarcastic comments dressed up as imparting information that certain brands of machines were basically crap and  It concerned me that someone who claimed to know so much about brands was unaware that Elna and Janome are the same company. One lady went downstairs and bought a new machine but still this woman ploughed on and didn’t recap with the lady what she had missed. The same happened when my mum’s machine broke.

 

By the end of the day I could barely maintain a civil composure, I was threading my mum’s machine to ensure that she had a working machine when we left the course – thankfully her machine was repaired there and then by the shop owners – I can’t fault them at all. I love their shop and they have always been lovely which is why I am not naming the location of the class as I wouldn’t want to damage their reputation, when this was someone who obviously comes in and works for the. The teacher was demanding yet again mum and I stand in front of a machine that we wouldn’t have a clear view of – when both of us have mobility issues which were obvious due to the mobility aids we were using. I practically hissed that I was beyond tired as was my mother and having a working machine before leaving the shop was slightly more important than looking at the backs of people’s heads. I then let her look at the back of mine as I got on with threading mum’s machine – something the tutor should have done when she was told mum was having issues seeing properly due to the light coming in through the window.

 

All I can say is thank fuck I didn’t pay full price for that class. I still feel ripped off knowing I paid £27 for it. I will be honest yes I learned some bits and pieces but not £27 worth.

 

Thursday was a complete right off as at 2am I woke up with a migraine, it was hideous. I couldn’t stop being sick and by the time Jamie found me lying in the dark at 9am I could barely speak. By 2pm I was starting to come around but I was just completely drained. However my back would not put up with me lying in bed any longer so I forced myself downstairs.

 

I was wiped out by the migraine for a good couple of days but I did get some sewing done. I managed to make a start on my floating triangle quilt, so the week wasn’t a complete right off. I have started taking pizotifen again in the hope that it prevents more migraines in the future or if not it at least reduces the intensity. I can’t cope with that again nothing stops the pain or the sickness.

 

My quilt pieces, this is as far as I have got as the rest of my time has been taken up making birthday presents,

 

 

Now all that is left to do is to join them all together in the right order!

Odd ones

 

A few weeks ago an incident happened that has happened many times before to me on social media, I was hit on by a complete stranger. They seem to all go to the same school of charm, as the same phrase is always used. I was told yet again “Btw (by the way) your profile photo is really sexy”. This always makes me roar with laughter as my profile photo is usually one of my dogs. I hate having my photograph taken and I rarely post photos of myself unless it’s of me with ptosis The men that use this phrase clearly don’t actually look at the profile picture they are sending this crap out to or they really do need glasses!

I suppose Frankie could look sexy if you were into that kind of thing LOL!

My husband had no idea how often this happens to me, I simply hadn’t bothered to tell him. I am probably like most women, so used to this crap that it really doesn’t bother me anymore. I might find it creepy some days but I usually send the person back quite a rude response and immediately block them so I can have no further dialogue with them. Due to my position as an admin on a Facebook group, I have to set my messages so that I can receive them from anyone. Facebook naturally filters them for me into people I am friends with, those messages go straight into my inbox and people I don’t know come up as message requests. Thankfully I can preview these without the other person knowing, so that should I wish to I can decline them.

 

However a few weeks ago I had the same issue with “your profile picture is very sexy” but this time it wasn’t a stranger, out of the blue. No this was during a serious conversation I was having with an admin from another group. I had contacted this admin as a favour as I had joined his group only to see that there was an ex member of the group I admin in there. This member had been removed due to his aggressive and confrontational / rude behaviour and I could see that he was up to his old tricks in this new  group. As a favour I thought I would give this admin the heads up. Oh how I wish I hadn’t, the conversation started up normally enough and then out of nowhere came the creepy statement. All respect I had for this gentleman left me right there, why would you do that ? and why on earth would you think that was ok?

 

Why is it that men seem to think that the internet is just another way to be pervy to women? What did this man, let’s call him Chris think I was going to say after he told me my profile picture was very sexy? “Oh thank you kind sir, let’s run away together?” At the time I just said “erm thanks the photo is of my dog’s nose” I exited the conversation quickly after that and I am happy to say he hasn’t contacted me again.

 

Now if he did this to me and he barely knows me, literally we are in the same health issue group, what is he doing to women in the group he helps run? Women who he knows are vulnerable, to me that is the behaviour of a predator. Unfortunately it’s not the first time I have heard about a male admin or husband’s of an admin taking advantage of their position to gain sexual satisfaction. It really brings it home to you that you should never blindly trust someone on the internet, I am always quite cautious but even I have had occasions where I have let my guard down and been punished for it. However it is usually females that take advantage of me, by monopolizing my time, asking highly personal questions and then when I tell them that I won’t answer that question, I have had them get extremely nasty with me or make out that I am taking offence for no reason.

 

The male pervs I can deal with, as I say they normally get a special message back from me. It’s the females I find incredibly difficult to deal with, sometimes it can take me years to  stand up to them. I never divulge things I don’t want to, I won’t be bullied into that. I seem to attract the ones who are emotional vampires, who are in competition with me as to who really is the sickest them or me.  Anyone who knows me knows that I really don’t fucking care who is the sickest it’s not a game I play. They are the ones that only ever talk about themselves and when you look back at the messages you have from them you see that they rarely ever ask you how you are doing.

 

I write a blog, I give information away freely it’s something I chose to do.I also control the information that I share. I also understand that people will contact me as part of that. 99 times out of 100 I have no problem at all with the people who contact me and I am more than happy to help whenever I can. The downside is even though my blog audience is pretty small by the grand scheme of things and my page only has a hundred or so followers on

Facebook. I do seem to attract more than my fair share of weirdos. I have been asked for money, I have been asked if I want to join an investment schemes but the ones that really get my goat are the ones that steal my time. They are the ones that message me incessantly for days on end, that claim to be big fans of my blog but the questions they ask prove time and time again they’ve never read it. They are also the ones that claim to know all about my illnesses, yet the things they say prove they don’t. I try so hard to be polite and kind to  everyone I encounter online but some people think that gives them the green light to walk all over me or to ask deeply personal questions. When I point out that I won’t answer the question and why, I am belittled through mocking apologies. Yet when I stand up for myself and tell these people to sling their hooks I am the one left feeling bad about it. I just can’t win.

 

Some of these encounters make me want to just shut down all my social media accounts and run away. But then I think to myself why should I be the one to suffer? All I have ever done with my blog is try to tell my story and hopefully help others who maybe at a different stage of the journey. The majority of my online encounters are lovely it’s just the odd one or two that leave me with a bad taste in my mouth. It’s the odd ones with a problem not me!

 

Limbo

Currently I am in diagnostic limbo, awaiting tests to confirm or deny the diagnosis of Myasthenia Gravis (again). It is a deeply frustrating time, whilst I wait around for my first appointment, I am essentially in no man’s land. Technically until proven otherwise there is essentially nothing wrong with me yet those who know me, know that what is happening at the moment is beyond my normal levels of crap health.

 

The hoops have already been set for me to jump through. Although my consultant has written to my gp requesting that he / she prescribes mestinon for me to alleviate the worst of my symptoms. A drug that is also used for PoTs although in this community it’s known as pyridostigmine bromide as it raises standing blood pressure. You’d think I was asking for crack cocaine to be prescribed. On Tuesday evening at 17:30 I had a phone call from the doctor’s surgery asking me to book an appointment to see my gp as the gp “wanted to speak to me about pyridostigmine bromide”. Now I maybe way off base but to me this doesn’t sound good. I raised the possibility of MG with this dr back in May and was essentially ignored, now they want to discuss it? I have never had an issue with my consultant asking my gp to write a prescription and it necessitating an appointment to discuss it.

 

* * *

 

I started writing this post on Saturday morning and was too ill to continue writing it. As you can probably tell I was a little wound up by the prospect of having to do battle with another doctor so soon. I have been getting weaker over the last few days, finding my legs turning to jelly along with my arms. The stress of waiting to see the doctor yesterday didn’t help. By the time it came for me to leave the house, my ptosis was the worst it’s been in a while with it also affecting my mouth, causing me to drool.

 

 

As it turns out I got myself all worked up for nothing. The gp wanted to ensure my understanding about Myasthenia Gravis, Pyridostigmine Bromide and to work on a plan for if I was to get worse before seeing the Neurologist. That was a weight off my mind, I am so used to having to attend an appointment and be prepared for a fight when it comes to MG, I couldn’t see it going any other way. It was such a relief. I know that the neurology appointment is a different kettle of fish but for the time being I can relax a little and work on being a bit more stable. I have had 19 days of ptosis (I still can’t believe I coped with this for nine months solid in the past) but now at least I have the medication to stop it in its tracks.

 

I decided to hell with it all yesterday on my personal Facebook feed and posted the photo that is above (but a colour version). I explained that Myasthenia Gravis was back on the cards again and that this is what I had been dealing with on a daily basis for 18 days (at that point). I always try to distance my own page from my health as I have had some really awful stuff said to me before. I tend to keep most things limited to my blog or my Myasthenia Kid Facebook page, so that people can choose to follow or not. I shouldn’t have to do that but I do because society can’t cope with an illness that doesn’t get better. It doesn’t understand that you can have good days and bad days. I find it easier to self censor than face the bullshit that comes with being honest. Sad but true.

 

So this is going to be a very short post as my arms are shaking from using the chromebook and I feel like crap. I can’t lie. Mestinon has been started and the same results as ten years ago achieved, as in my ptosis resolves within 20-30 minutes, longer if I am really bad and the weakness in my limbs lessens.

 

I did have a wry smile yesterday when the gp added to my notes “Myasthenia Gravis” but then I have been here before. Still currently officially in limbo.