3 Sep 2017


People keep asking me how I'm doing.  I lie to them.  I tell them I'm doing just fine.  I feel heaps better.  I am resting lots.

The truth is that for the last two weeks I've been crippled by anxiety attacks which can last for hours and I feel like the world's worst mother and partner.

I'm not sleeping well.  I wake up several times a night in a ball of sweat and nerves.  My legs feel like lead.

I don't know what bought this on. It has come out of nowhere, it didn't start when I left the hospital, it didn't start when my Mum left, it didn't start when Justin started back at work... I have no idea what is going on and to make matters worse, there doesn't appear to be a particular trigger.

I will be ok, watching TV, reading a story to the kids, prepping dinner, reading a book and all of a sudden I'm overcome with a violent urge to vomit.  I get lightheaded, my legs start aching, heat rushes to my face, heart goes like the clackers and I just want to lay on the ground.

Most times I do just that.

Lay on the ground.

I then obsess about how fat I've become, how I don't look after my kids properly, how my house is a mess, how my partner isn't getting enough attention, how I should be back at work already, how I miss having my family close by, how little money we have in the bank, how we'll never own a home, will we ever get married, why don't I talk to my friends anymore, why am I not doing anything with myself except falling apart on the unmopped floor...

I couldn't do my laying down thing as I walking the Strand this morning with my family so I tried to focus on the water and the sky and all the naturey things.  I did my deep breathing and kept putting one foot in front of the other. I have literally felt on edge all day.

I've been in a few social situations since this started and not had it happen either. So it's not the social/people thing.

When I told my GP he recommended that I speak to someone, which obviously I will do, but also reminded me that I've had a tough time with this operation and it's okay to feel overwhelmed.

Overwhelmed is one thing, crippling anxiety is another.

He gave me a script for some valium.

Which I've found not helpful.

So here I am.  Tomorrow I make an appointment to see a psych and hopefully the beginning of really feeling better.

I could go on about a lot of things here but I won't because I don't want to feel judged or have people worrying about me.  I'm actually ok and working on a plan.  I just needed to get it down and out because that's what I do.

25 Aug 2017

Sharing a Room

Just yesterday, the Mushroom announced that he'd like to sleep in the same room as his sister Molly so they both won't get scared.

He's currently going through some stuff.  Spiders, mice, darkness... you name it, he's scared of it.  He has a night light, mouse spray, spider spray, constant reassurance from us that there is no need to be scared of anything that is one hundredth of his size... (don't make me do Math, my head hurts) but you know what the rationale of a 4 year old is like...

Now I can count on one hand, how many nights Molly has woken up in the last month at night and I can count on one finger how many nights that Mushroom has slept in his own bed in the last 8 months.


I am opposed.  Vehemently.

Juffin thinks it's a good idea so we can turn one room into a play room and we can get all the f-ing toys out of the lounge room.

Between you and I, we know that the statement above will never happen.

So let's go through my reasons for not wanting to do this:

Mushroom has a night light
Molly is still in a cot
Mushroom still needs someone to sit with him when he goes to bed (Yes.  It's fucking ridicuolous.  Don't even get me started!)
Molly is a light sleeper
Mushroom is a nutcase and wakes multiple times at night and creeps into our bed, if we take him back he becomes hysterical and WILL wake another child who would be SOUNDLY SLEEPING in the same room
Molly is a fantastic sleeper and I literally cannot cope with one child in my bed let alone two.  I'm too fat.

Now I don't care that they're opposite sex, they're kids.  I think it's sweet that he wants to share a room with her.  I just don't think that my girl will enjoy having a room-mate.  She's a very independent little thing and I think she likes her own space. She is still breastfed before bed and literally says, nigh night Mummy when we put her down and she rolls over and goes to sleep.

Oh if the first born would do that!  We'd be in HEAVEN!

I guess we could trial it and if it's shit, go back, but will that stuff the good sleeper up forever?  I like my three hours of unbroken sleep!  I need it!!

What's your advice fellow parents?  What would you do?

Their hair is almost exactly the same colour!  

23 Aug 2017


A month ago I went in to hospital to have my hernia repaired.

It was supposed to be day surgery but I packed a bag in case.

Juffin would say that I'm a pessimist but I'm actually a realist.  I've been to hospital many times before.

My hernia was much larger than they thought, no shock to me.  I was under for several hours and spent the afternoon feeling pretty fucking miserable in the planned procedure unit... which is not meant for overnight stay but apparently there were no beds. I had two drains because of the hole left behind after they stuffed my bowel and small intestine back where it was supposed to be.

I stayed there for two days.

At this point I would like to make an observation, please be nice to nurses. They're not arseholes sent to fuck with you, they're just doing their damn job and trying to look after you.  Don't be a dick.

I had sporadic phone reception, one book that I'd finished and no TV.  I was literally starting at the walls.  Juffin was busy kid wrangling and because I couldn't really reach anyone, and had no idea how long I would be there, I didn't reach out for entertainment.  It was the longest two days of my life.

Upon my return home, I realised how much fun it is recovering from major surgery with two children who constantly want to be on you and pull the tube that is still hanging out of your guts.

Yes.  I had to go home with a drain.

The following week I start to feel shady as shit.

I spend Tuesday night in a fever soaked delirium whilst also trying to deal with my teething 15 month old.  Life is good..

On Wednesday, the day my Mum arrives, 9 days after operation, the acute care Nurse who's been visiting me at home, tells me that I look like crap and if my temperature doesn't decrease I should go to the hospital.  After midday Juffin tells me it's time after taking my temperature and it's somewhere in the high 37's.  I text Mum and tell her we're going to Emergency and throw a book, nightie and undies in my bag.  Lucky.

In triage my temperature is 38.9.

Time to invest in a new thermometer.

I spend a few hours in ED, then the Short Stay Unit where I go to have a CT scan, then onto SCDU which means something like surgical criticial decisions unit or some such rubbish.  They're not sure if they need to open me back up see....

I'm taken up there pretty late, around 10ish or something, and the old dude they park me next to gets all ornery and keeps yelling out 'NURSE!  KEEP IT DOWN'.  Oh the irony.  He snores and wakes up frequently asking for coffee/orange juice/sandwiches at regular intervals.  He's an arsehole. If I hadn't been feeling so crap, I would have told him to keep it fucking down.

I spend another night in feverish delirium with Doctor's coming to see me as my temperatures spikes again up near the 39 mark.  I have cold sweats and then shiver uncontrollably.  It's pretty rubbish.

The next day I see my lovely surgeon again who asks me what the hell is going on, I joke and tell him he should have done his job properly so I don't have to be there again.  He puts me on hella IV antibiotics and I get the good drugs and am told I don't need to have more surgery, just need to rest, rehydrate and kill all the bad bugs.

I spend the rest of my time up on Surgical Ward One, in, get this, MY OWN FUCKING ROOM.  I was stoked.  The SCDU nurses said it was because I'm such a good patient, but I think it's because that's all they had, see?!  Realist.

I go home five days later, with the drain still in, yes, I hate that fucking drain.  My Mum is here, Juffin is best fiance/baby daddy ever, and my friends and work colleagues have sent flowers, food, chocolate...

Fast forward to today and I'm feeling beyond defeated.

I had my drain out 12 days ago and was feeling pretty good.

Now I'm not.  I went to my GP this morning as my guts has swollen up again and is tender AF, my legs are aching, I feel fatigued, dizzy spells, I'm not sleeping well and get up 4 times a night... things have gone downhill, again. GP recommended another 2 weeks off work and more rest but here's the kicker, Juffin got a job!  Yes!  And we're so fricking excited and proud of him but he starts next week and I can't look after the kids on my own and my MIL is away. I'm working on shuffling things around but he'll have to drop the kids off at daycare at 6.15 as he has to be at work by 7.  

I need to get better.  I'm sick of feeling like crap.  I'm over Juffin having to do everything while I roll around looking on and feeling helpless.  I feel like a useless turd.  This was supposed to be a day procedure and here I am a month later still feeling like absolute shit.  If I watch any more Netflix I will turn into the Cable Guy.  

Look I know I need to put things in perspective and I know that I need to stop feeling so sorry for myself but I'm currently spending most of my time on the couch watching Mad Men or in bed watching Mad Men and I could really do with some good healthy, healing vibes at the moment.  

And cigarettes.

And Canadian Club.

Ok, maybe not the cigarettes but yes to the Canadian Club.

Leaving hospital for the second time...