It’s been one of those months when everyone near me needs things and either: I have no needs, I have forgotten to need them or I am too tired to think about needing them because there is no time or space for them. I don’t want to get pissed about it so I’m subliminally rejecting needy thoughts before they get to the surface…because I am cool, fine, okey-dokey and life (apart from one thing) is pretty damn fine (no, two things…).
Anyway, my dad is finally out of nut ward and back in his own home, looking amazingly normal. Drugs are wonderful things. I am way into the tough love thing with him and have reached the point of saying (not quite to his face, but to anyone else who listens) that if he can’t stand on his own two feet well, I’m not propping him up anymore. No daily call or visit, no grocery run, no endless head nods and murmured sympathies over imaginary ills and woes. Nah! He’s a grown up and he either sorts his shit out or gets himself into a rest home where someone is paid to sort it. NOT MY JOB! Yaah for caring daughters, not.
My daughter has not stopped coughing for six weeks. And this isn’t a wee cough or a tickle or even a bark every now and then. It is a constant every breath cough. To the point the last few days that she has been getting pins and needles up her arms and over her face as a result of a lack of/excess (?) of oxygen. She is currently using a local anesthetic via a nebuliser every 4 hours. This numbs her mouth and throat and gives her 90 minutes relief from coughing. All she has done for the past three weeks is cough and sleep. She is exhausted and nothing else has worked. No cough mix, no inhaler and the chest x-ray is clear. But is just goes on, and on, and on.
She is in the middle of school exams and has to sit in a room alone to do them, as she is too distracting for the other girls. This morning she sat in the sick room numbing her throat (which also means no food or drink for 3 hours as she can’t swallow in case it goes into her lungs!) so that she could deliver her English speech! Madness. The doctor is stumped and I think we will be off to a respiratory specialist early next week.
The only bright spot for me this week is that I am going to buy a pair of boots tonight on my way to work (ugh, yes I work on a Friday night!). I have what is politely called a pair of ‘well developed calves’ (WDC) or just plain fat legs really! Darling husband says they are athlete’s legs and this is true. I have run many a mile to get them in this shape, but that is no consolation when sitting in a shoe shop red-faced with embarrassment and exhaustion from trying on multiple pairs of knee high boots that just will not bloody do up! So I have ordered in some specially made for ladies with ‘WDC’ and hope to pick them up in about 30 minutes. Just black I fear, and flat heeled, but I want to wear them everyday to work. They look vaguely like biker boots as they have buckles on the side where the gusset is that allows me to fit the damn things. I hope they are as comfortable as the ones I tried on before ordering them in…
2 comments:
Love those boots!!!! It's so hard to find ones that are flat that aren't frumpy. I live in black boots from the second it starts to get cool in the fall, all through the winter, and as far into spring as I can get away with it.
Thanks! I can remember being impressed with some boots you bought last year. I am such a slow shopper, it takes me months to decide on what I want and by then no one has what I want. But I'm happy now... - Yummm, I just looked up your blog and those cowboy boots still look pretty sharp! Maybe I'll go for heels next time :-)
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