Wednesday, 30 September 2015

A STROKE OF MISFORTUNE (THE WHOLE STORY) part II

Its dark now, I'm travelling down the highway with my partners parents. My parents have met the helicopter at the hospital. So far, he is still stable and alive.
As we are about 1 hour away from the hospital my phone rings, the sound is a shrilling echo in what is otherwise a silent car. I began to feel that flush in my face and the rush of blood in my ears. This could be a call I don't want to answer. This could change the game… forever.

"Hello, Linda speaking" I say with trepidation in my voice.

Its the doctor at the hospital. He has just performed a minor surgery on my partners head. He explains that at this stage, the blood from his bleeding vein (in the top centre part of his head) has built up and caused pressure and swelling to the brain. this in itself can be damaging. In order to release the pressure and drain the blog they have drilled a small hole the size of pencil, inserted a tube and drained the blood. For now the drain will stay in place and continue to keep the pressure at a minimum by draining any excess that may appear. He has tolerated this procedure. is still in a coma and at this point has shown no significant signs of any more severe bleeding.

Now we wait.

Would you believe me if I told you that the same neurosurgeon that saved my brothers life only 9 months early had just performed the surgery my partner. It was to raw and early to reflect on this as a positive or not but i suppose at the very least, a small amount of relief registered somewhere in the maze of my mind that he had a great doctor, and, this is good.

After what felt like a lifetime, I know i keep saying that but seriously, longest day of many to come!
We arrive at the hospital. Please don't forget that I'm almost 7 1/2 months pregnant. sitting uncomfortably in a car for three hours. I'm exhausted but more wide awake than ever, I hurt and want to go to sleep and pretend its a bad dream but i also want to run as fast as i can to his side.

My parents meet us at the door of the hospital and we have to fiddle around for our ID as its late at night and have to go through the security to enter the hospital. My mind is screaming at this man. ' You have got to be kidding me, look at me, the only threat i pose is to the seats i may rest my rump on causing them to break under the weight of my baby body!! Let me go, i need to see him, touch him, feel him breathe and hear his heart pump before i will believe he is still alive'

The all to familiar procedure of ICU begins. Call through to the nurse and say who we are and who we need to see. The nurse buzzes us through the doors. Hand sanitary lotion is not a suggestion in ICU. It has the most distinct smell. One to this day still takes me right back there with sadness.

I can't explain well the feeling of looking at your love, your life lying in a bed, tubes in their mouth, cords dancing around their body, but i will try. If it weren't for these "intruding objects" you would just think they were asleep. But they are not. they are unconscious. He had his head bandaged like a child would do to their teddy bear if they were playing nurse. the eerie darkness of the night was illuminated from the lights of the machines breathing for him. The calmness of sound was interrupted loudly but beeps from the machines every other moment. I touched his face. I cried.

The next four days were critical, he was monitored for pressure in his brain, brain activity, and vital signs of ice in general.

I spent most of each day either by his side or just outside the ICU in the waiting area.

I remember the waiting area more clearly from my brothers accident than the actual ICU unit itself. You can only have 2/3 people in ICU with a patient at once. This is where my parents stayed whilst I kept the spirits of family members going in the wait room.

Its an unusual place to be. Obviously no matter what is wrong with you, if you are in the ICU, its serious. Some people are there knowing its the end. The elderly are eased gently from this world whilst a young boy lays their fighting with everything he has to stay in this world.
Peoples moods are unpredictable. Everyone deals with stress and sickness differently.

My family.

We pep each other up, keep things light and positive, bring solace from a laugh. We are strong and band together like a family should. You may think it odd to laugh or joke about things at such a time as this, but the relief that comes from a laugh is so strong and needed.
We of course were respectful of others and never made anyone feel that we were being insensitive to the situation. You would however be surprised how often a giggle or smile from a person is then sought after by others so they to may join in and release their tension.
At one point over the four days there were about four different groups of people in this waiting area and someone had said something (I forget as it was so insignificant) that caused a ripple effect of laughter. Within minutes we were all in fits of laughter, tears of laughter and sadness combined in that one moment to bring relief to everyone. its a moment that has stuck with me and always will.

 If you can't cry, laugh i say, then cry and then, laugh some more!

Monday, 28 September 2015

AN OPEN LETTER TO A DUDE IN A TRUCK

Dear Old Dude in the truck that slowed to an almost stop, just to whistle at me and take off again as I was mowing my lawn,
I want to explain to you how this made me feel. Just a warning, this won't be short or dumbed down for your simple mind.
I am an single independent women (yes, cue Beyoncé) I have three kids which I raise all on my own. They are inside the house right now. (Destroying it no doubt) I'm embarrassed for you that they would have seen this display of degradation towards me, their mum.
I have a chronic illness which leaves me in pain and very tired, but, I want to set a good example for my kids and show them that I can look after them and do everything I need to regardless of my illness. I want to teach them that nothing in life should stop you. What I don't want to teach them is that by doing a normal everyday chore you will be subjected to mindless badgering from a dirty old man.
If I were a man mowing the lawns you wouldn't have given me a second thought. It's not that unusual for a women to mow the lawns is it? Really?
So why do you feel you have the right to whistle at me with a seedy grin when I'm in my own home doing something that is so mediocre to trillions of people in the world. I, unlike most men that take care of the lawns, do not get to go inside and sit down when I'm finished. I have to tackle the mayhem that only three unsupervised children can cause in 40 minutes. I won't have a break later in the evening as I will then have to cook dinner. After dinner I will be cleaning up, bathing children, reading stories and fighting in the never ending bedtime battle. ON MY OWN.
Again, your whistle baffles me, I was not parading around in skimpy tight clothing, I'm sweating and puffing with a blotchy red face as I push the mower through the grass that should have been cut weeks ago, but wasn't as I was unwell and simply to busy. I'm wearing a dirty old T-shirt and am rather disturbed to think you find this sexy.
I think you are the reason women find it hard in this world to do simple things without hesitation. You are the reason women feel uncomfortable in their own skin. Your stupid whistle sets women back so far from where we have come.
I will not stop being amazing because of your whistle, I will not stop teaching my three children that women can do anything a man can do, I will not stop teaching my son not to degrade women.
Im sure you would feel ashamed if I could stop you and tell you this, put a story to what you see as just a chick to whistle at. I hope you don't have a son or daughter that learns from your behaviours.
Sincerely
The chick you whistled at.

DEAR SMITHS CHIPS...

I'd like to take a moment from my day and share it with u Smiths chips.
I have three kids under 10, it's the first week of school holidays. The weather is inclement so the kids are tearing up the house. My nerves are on edge. I spy the box of chips on top the fridge. Quickly check where the kids are and steal away in the laundry with my mouth watering as I ever so quietly open a lunch size packet of twisties. (My favourite!!) as much as I'd love to savour this moment and enjoy ever morsel of this tiny packet slowly, I can't. Remember the kids I mentioned. So I tilt the packet, hovering just above my open mouth ready to gauge myself in delight. I take the first crunch... Wait, there is no crunch. I chew again, the same disappointment fills me with sadness. They are stale. To explain how this destroys my world I would need more time. But any mother who has had to hide to eat a treat would completely understand. My love for twisties in that one moment has been destroyed.
I'm not sure how this will effect my relationship with twisties from here on... Only time will tell I guess. I'm willing to try but I'm hesitant at the least.
Regards
Disappointed mother of three.