Good days and bad

I don’t know if it’s a bug or if I’ve eaten something but my bowel isn’t happy.  It started churning last night and hasn’t really let up.  I struggled to get to sleep last night and had vivid dreams.  I dreamt I was in London, shopping for Helios’s birthday and on my way home.  Although I knew I was in London and there were Black Cabs everywhere, the streets and buildings looked American.  My brain successfully merged both homes into one comfortable place.  I woke up when I was trying to get home from London; I was trying to decide how best to get to Waterloo station.  I was looking for an Underground station but kept seeing a lot of  Black Cabs.

Unfortunately I am uncomfortable today.  Hopefully it will pass soon!

Foxy

Vivid dreams and Tears

I was dreaming again.  I have very vivid dreams.  I was riding something.  I don’t know what it was, I thought it was a horse but the ride was so smooth that it could easily have been a jet-powered hovercraft for all I know.  I was going around when I happened to see a 6 year old version of my baby sister.  Someone was holding a knife to her throat and I had to pretend that I didn’t see them.  I rode around and quickly found my Brazilian friend’s oldest brother.  Although I haven’t seen him since they lived in the US as teenagers, he was a cop and hopped on the back of my horse/bike/whatever.  We crept behind the villain (now wielding a gun) and he crushed the man with a blanket.  I shouted at the miscreant “Nobody holds a knife to my sister’s throat!  NOBODY!!”  I woke up.

I drifted off again and dreamt I was in a posh restaurant.  I was with two friends but they were mean to me.  They weren’t talking to me at all.  I got up and collected my coat and bag.  I didn’t get far.  My ex was sitting by himself at a table near the front door of the restaurant.  He moved his mobile away from his ear long enough to invite me to join him and then went back to work.  I sat down at the table opposite the aisle and took my book out of my bag – I’m reading The Fry Chronicles.  I didn’t start it because there was an old friend, Emma, sitting behind my ex (still engrossed in work) at the next table along.  Emma was happy because her company was officially merging with something else and they will be called Accrington Stanley.  I woke up again.

I drifted off again.  I was with Helios watching the TV when an advertising jingle came on that made me cry:  “You know I’ll never leave you, my little girl…”  I cried because my dad died in August.  It’s still a shock.

Foxy

A terrible thing happened on the way home

I had an eventful journey home on 12^th December.  I arrived home later than usual – I was completely drenched.  I couldn’t have been more wet had I been swimming fully clothed.  Helios looked at me and said “Oh dear!  If I had known it was raining I would have collected you at the station!”  I couldn’t help it.  I burst into tears.  He held me and tried to get me to make some sense and, slowly, I told him what had happened but first I showed him my fingers moving and assured him that my toes were perfectly fine too.  Can you imagine me moving my fingers and thumbs in front of his face?  I’d been hit by a car on my walk home.

I got off the train as normal.  It normally gets me to my village at18:00 or just after.  I walked to a T junction.  It was dark and raining.  I looked both ways.  The car to my right was stopped and indicating to turn right.  There was nothing coming from my left so I scooted across to ensure that I didn’t hold anyone up.  The next thing I know, I was on the bonnet of the car that has been waiting to turn right.  The car was exactly in the middle of the two lanes of the road.  I must have slid onto the road but don’t remember how.  I remember shouting “Why did you do that??”  I was being picked up by a passer-by who, it turned out, lived on that very corner.  The driver waited for me to move and then started to drive to the side.  I shouted “Don’t you dare drive off!!”  But he wasn’t going away, he was just moving out of the way of the traffic that was already building behind him (little wonder because he was right in the middle of the road)!

The woman beside me was shaking and I thanked her for coming to my rescue.  I checked my digits and found that nothing was broken.  I could move my neck.  I was crying but that really was no surprise.  I appeared to be unhurt – just badly shaken.  The man gave me his name and a contact number.  I made sure to write down the number of his licence plate.  I assured him that I had nothing broken.  Initially I just wanted to go home and nearly took him up on his offer to drive me home but I thought better of it – I didn’t know him after all – and took the woman up on her offer to take me in.  Also, he was starting to annoy me – he said that I’d run into his car and not that his car had run into me.  I reminded him that it was a dark, wet night and it could have happened to anyone.  The thing to remember was that appeared to be unhurt.  He eventually went on his way.  I went inside a sweet kitchen.  She apologised that it needed a floor but it seemed a nice place.  I joked that I didn’t think she was a serial killer and she said something about soft furnishings.  I tried to ring my dear husband but couldn’t get through.  Unbeknownst to me, Helios had left his mobile in his coat on the porch and didn’t hear it.  It was precisely because I couldn’t get through to him that I suddenly began to wonder and fret.  I knew I was ok but wanted to be sure he was too.  I decided to brave the elements and walked home.  I got to the hill when I decided to leave a message on Helios’s mobile.  I knew (as long as he was ok) he’d worry and I still appeared to be without major injury.

Later that night I was sore and bruised.  Helios encouraged me to take a long hot bath but I still needed painkillers to get to sleep.  I dreamt that night of being at war.  Throughout the night I struggled with my bruising on my right-hand side.  Rolling over or moving at all would cause me to wake up again.

I got up at the usual time and went to work in the usual way.  I catch the7:38 amfrom the village to town.  I was so uncomfortable that I asked to go to the doctors.  I got a taxi to my local surgery and saw my GP at9:30the next morning.  I cried when I told her what had happened.  She kindly gave me Naprosyn (one tablet twice daily) and told me that I needed to go home because I was clearly still in shock.  I walked over to the local grocery store and picked up a few bits and then got a taxi home.

Consequently I’ve lost and more recently regained my Christmas feeling.  I still have bruising on my right elbow but I’m feeling much better and am delighted that no more serious damage was done.

Take care and have a happy Christmas!

Foxy

The Box by Philip Pullman

Thanks to my illnesses, I do regularly have very vivid dreams.  I’ve had another very odd one last night.  It was as if I was watching a film which started with the title “The Box by Philip Pullman” as if printed on a creamy paper surrounded by scrolls on the edges and a Japanese figure under the western writing.

Next I saw fully-clothed boys in a bathhouse saying “Come around to mine for a party tonight.”  It was a place that I presumed was in Japan.  The bath house was clean looking but not just white – the walls were a pastel blue-green with beautiful minimalist red flowers grew from lower right to the upper left.

The boys all went back to a flat and I next saw them trying to avoid other boys in the same flat who were trying to get lucky.  They crowded in the kitchen and tried to make enough noise to drown out the joy happening in other rooms.  “Do you want some potato salad with that sandwich?” and “I have cold sweetcorn.”  I couldn’t smell it but reached out to touch the cold sweetcorn kernels to confirm – yes they were stone cold and slightly wet.

The next thing I knew, the opening credits were rolling again.  I remembered something that I’m not sure actually happened when I first saw the film: I thought “Well, that was a long teaser – I hope we get to see all of it this time” and the bathhouse appeared again.

I woke up.

I have looked and, according to Wikipedia, Philip Pullman hasn’t written a book entitled “The Box”

Foxy

So Tired

I could easily miss a step, fall over like a tree in the forests and be asleep half-way to the floor.  I didn’t sleep well Thursday night.  The past few days I’ve had problems with what Helios calls “defecation frenzy”.  I didn’t miss work but I have had to take more time than usual to attend to calls of nature.  Thursday it was 4 or 5.  Friday it was 8.  This morning so far it’s been two and I’ve decided that I probably need to fast now to get it out of my system.

I dreamt last night I was in the US.  I was in the car with Foxxy (an old friend who, in real life, shares my name but with a slightly different spelling) and her boyfriend.  They were chatting away in the front of the car and, every so often, they would giggle at a shared joke.  I contented myself with looking outside the window.  We drove for some time to another city.  It was a beautiful journey – I couldn’t help but notice how green the grass looked.  The US is so vast!  For some time we didn’t see another car or person – which doesn’t happen in England.  It was pristine and I thought that if all of the US was so beautiful I wouldn’t mind living there.  However, things weren’t as nice when we got to the city: people seemed to be crossing the road any old where and we had to swerve to dodge them.  It reminded me a little of where my sister used to live – with University students flooding the streets to get to their next class on time.

We finally arrived at our destination: we were visiting our friend at the hospital.  I remember him from high school but cannot remember his full name.  He’s called John and he was in our gang.  He was the one that wore the T-shirt “I refuse to have a battle of wits with an unarmed person.”  He had had a car accident and had a number of broken bones.

We parked well away from the building to avoid paying the parking fees.  I put one sock on but the other fell down a crevasse.  I could have retrieved it but I didn’t.  I just put my shoe on my right foot.

I worried that the smell of the place would make me sick.  When I was in high school I made the mistake of visiting a friend who’d had a car accident and the smell made me sick – I had to run to the toilet!  Very embarrassing!

We weren’t allowed to see John immediately – which was a good thing.  I didn’t notice any overpowering smell – so I was OK there.  I started gearing myself up to see a John that looked a lot worse than he probably was (in order to honestly say how good I thought he looked) and I thought of things to tell him like “You look just like you did in high school – except for the odd broken bone of course!”

We were shown to a seat near a TV where there were some patients and visitors.  The visitors didn’t look worried – they looked dirty – like how I’d expect the residents of Dale Farm to look.  Dale Farm is a Gypsy site in Essex that has recently evicted half its residents because they only had permission for a certain number of mobile homes.  The story made national news and, politically, I found myself siding with the local council.  I just don’t understand the traveller way of life in order to understand their plight or why they choose to live the way they do.

In the dream I didn’t pay them any attention.  I was pacing and worried that I’d lost my right sock because (and we all know how odd dreams are) even though I’ve not seen John for at least 20 years, he’d given me that pair of socks and I didn’t want him to think that I’d lost one.  The next thing I know all the other visitors leave and Kate, my line manager and someone I really respect, smiled at me and said “We have to ask them to move – they’re always wanting to sell us their dead.”

I woke up with the word “Dead” ringing in my ears.

When Helios got up I told him that I thought I ought to fast today to get my bowel back to normal.  Helios suggested that indigestion may have an effect on our dreaming.  Then he said I should take a paracetamol and codeine.  I can’t help but remember what he said about his time in Kenya– he came back with a “shit yourself thin” diet!  Thursday I was uncomfortable but in a good mood all day.  Friday I felt a bit worse and grouchy.  Today I’m hungry and afraid to eat lest I suffer with more bowel trouble…

I’m going to have to go back to bed.

Foxy

Autumn Arrived

The beginning of this past week was unseasonably warm.  I wore a dress to work – no cardigan, jacket or other warm clothing required.  Then it rained overnight on Wednesday and the temperatures have plummeted.  The heating is on in the flat and I’m curled up on the sofa with Helios under a sweatshirt and blankets.

It’s been a busy week!  Monday night Helios and I went to see “The Debt” at the cinema after work.  I enjoyed it.  Without giving anything away, it’s a film about three Nazi-hunters.

On Wednesday, I organised presents and the presentation for my friend’s retirement at work.  On top of this it was “billing week” so I had work coming out of my ears!  My friend would do a bill or two and then answer yet another email from someone sending best wishes.  As she’d been with the company for over 22 years, she had a lot of well-wishers!  I couldn’t tell her off though, at least she was able to help: my receptionist who is as dumb as a box of rocks is unable to do any part of billing.

After work on Wednesday we trooped over to the pub for my friend’s retirement party.  I advised against it, but she bought food for all of us that night.  She’s a painfully generous woman and I’ve appreciated her making me feel welcome at the company.  I’ll miss her.  For the moment, however, I’m living in denial that she’s gone.  She’s going on holiday to Las Vegas in the next week or two so I’ll make sure to get the full story upon her return…

Thursday at work was just as busy as every other day.  After work I saw T & L again.  I meet up with this couple of friends regularly throughout the year but this time was the first since Dad’s death.  When we get together we meet at T’s house and she makes the first two courses.  L and I take it in turns to bring desserts or wine.  This time I brought a dark Belgian chocolate cake and a coffee cake.  I had a lovely evening.  It was the first time I’ve met the girls since Dad’s death and they suggested that we three get together and do something to commemorate Dad’s life – whatever I want to do.  You just can’t beat friends like that, eh?  I’m contemplating their offer…

As you may remember, I have very vivid dreams.  Thursday night I dreamt I was in the house that Dad built for his second wife.  I was standing in the kitchen looking down the hall.  Helios walked from my old bedroom to the bathroom wearing a white and blue striped dressing gown.  Then Dad walked from his bedroom to the kitchen.  He was carrying a baby-sized me.  There was no doubt in my mind that the baby was me.  I was watching him kiss me and coochy-coochy-coo my baby-sized chin.  I felt as if Dad was forgiving me for all those things I feel guilty about – moving to England, not seeing him often, not ringing him often, etc.  I woke up with a smile on my face – something I’ve not done for a while.  It was a cathartic experience but I have cried quite a bit since.

Fridays are always a bit of a relief at the office.  I had quite a lot to do again and so arrived very early. My line manager was on holiday this week so I did over 42 hours this week and am looking forward to relaxing.  Once again I was unable to give my receptionist any work because it would take too much time to explain.  Luck for me, I was given a trainee accountant to help.  It’s good because I got through twice what I could have by myself.  It was bad because 1) it’s painfully obvious that our receptionist’s job will need to change now that my friend has retired and I don’t know if my receptionist will manage; 2) it’s painfully obvious that our trainee didn’t have enough to do this week.  I don’t know if that’s indicative of something a bit more ominous?

I was meant to see the England football game against Montenegro with the neighbours last night but they’ve obviously forgotten – no one was home.  Helios and I listened to it on the radio.  Between you and me, I’m relieved I wasn’t with the neighbours last night.  They have a three year old little girl who is lovely but, as I’m just a hair north of exhaustion, I was glad to be able to relax at home!

My line manager is back at the office next week and I have Monday off as holiday.  I’ll be spending time with a friend I used to work with.  We’re going to London and having some spa treatments near Knightsbridge.  So after some pampering, I’ve suggested we take tea at Fortnum & Mason and do a bit of Christmas shopping.

Then Tuesday morning I have a doctor’s appointment with the specialist that cleaned out my endometriosis in 2008.  I’m really looking forward to it.  I have a list of symptoms to discuss with him.

I do hope the next few weeks will be a bit less frantic!

Foxy

 

Daily News

I had a hard week this past week.  I had a head and chest cold from Saturday to, well now really.  I was well enough to go back to work on Wednesday though and struggled through the last three days.  It’s little wonder that I caught a cold: I’m still very up and down with my grief so it’s little wonder that I am a bit run-down.

While I was off work I was feeling terrible – mentally as well as physically – so I watched some films I’ve been meaning to see for some time but haven’t been in the right mood.  The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas was great and the ending nearly had me vomiting but the basic premise was wrong.  The camp commander’s family lived near enough to the camp that his son could see the camp outside his bedroom window.  The son presumes it’s a farm and, although he’s told not to, goes to visit.  And there lies my problem.  The Germans were far too efficient to allow a Jewish child to sit on his own for long and certainly wouldn’t allow an Arian child to sit and chat to an inmate.  I had to keep reminding myself of this fact afterwards in order not to dwell on it.

The other film I saw on Monday was Life is Beautiful.  Despite it being a holocaust film, it is life-affirming!  Completely unbelievable yet when the end comes, I found myself thinking “How’s he getting out of that?”

On Tuesday I saw Casablanca.  Have you ever seen it?  It’s more than just a love story.  Very very good.  Then I realised that I’d want to do myself in if I didn’t cheer up so then I saw a comedy which didn’t work well and was completely forgettable since I cannot remember which film I saw.  (!)

Wednesday at work was OK.  I really struggled in the morning but felt a bit stronger in the afternoon.  I was still coughing my way around the office but managed to stay the whole day.  Unfortunately we received an email saying that our free car parking was coming to an end as of the end of October.  That coupled with the fact that my friend who I’ve been carpooling with three days a week is retiring made me really start to panic about money.  I came home and started doing the numbers: should I get a train ticket or do the local Park and Ride?  The train is more reliable with winter coming but will mean that my feet will take a beating and I’m getting the same feet problems my mom has…   The Park and Ride costs about the same, I’ll walk almost as much but will mean that I can carry things more easily…  As you can see I’m still debating the pros and cons of my options…

Thursday was awful.  One of the partners from our head office came in, full of the joys of spring and said to me “Isn’t it a wonderful day?”  I looked at him and said “What’s so great about it?”  However, I really wanted to say “How do you think I’m going to afford to visit to my father’s grave next year now that my friend is retiring and you’ve taken away my free parking?” but managed to resist.  Biting your tongue is often a good option in the office.  He didn’t quite know what to say and left me alone.  His comment sent me into a foul mood on top of my coughing around the place.  I cried for a while in the toilet.  Lucky for me, my HR lady was in a meeting with him that morning and, when she emerged, she said that he truly hadn’t known that my dad had recently died.  So now I knew I had to brace myself: the guy isn’t a heartless bastard and I knew he would apologise.  Later that afternoon he apologised nicely and said that I must have thought him very insensitive.  Well, I said it’s OK, as you do, and that our HR lady had mentioned the conversation they’d had.  He was still being nice to me so I told him “Don’t be nice to me.”   I don’t know about you but I go to pieces when people are nice to me.  Well he laughed and said “Get back to work!  (pause)  No seriously…”  and he touched my arm and apologised again.  I went to pieces.  I HATE crying in the office.

That night Helios and I were meant to see the Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain in concert but I asked him if we could skip it and cuddle on the couch instead.  I’ve seen DVDs of the band and would like to see them live (Their rendition of “Smells Like Teen Spirit” has to be heard to be believed!) but I just wasn’t up to it.  I don’t regret skipping it but hope to see them again at a point when I’m feeling better about life.

Luckily I had a dream where I was actually having fun on Thursday night – one of the symptoms of my polycystic ovaries is strange and vivid dreams.  I was at an office party where a number of other office parties were taking place.  (This happens a lot in the UK.)  As I’m organising my office Christmas Party this year, I think my brain was concentrating on that!  It was OK until I saw a popular girl from my high school.  When she turned up in my dream, all jet-lagged and unhappy, I went over to say hello.  Everyone in her office wanted to talk to me about UK/US differences and how I felt about living in the UK.  She didn’t talk to me much, which made me think that she was jealous which made me feel slightly superior.  I know it’s pathetic but after the day I had, just feeling competent was an achievement.  While I was chatting, the people from my office left so I went off to find them.  In another room there was a wave machine and I went surfing.  It was great fun and I woke up wondering if I should really be beating myself up as much as I do?

Friday at the office was easier: the head-honchos weren’t in and I got on with some filing.  I’m not looking forward to the next couple of weeks at work: my line manager (wonderful woman!) is on her fortnight break and I’ll be in charge of office admin.  I’ve been left plenty of notes and have been told to ring her if needs be.  Normally her going away is a little stressful but nothing I can’t handle.  I acknowledge I’m really not myself at the moment, however, and I hope I don’t struggle while she’s away.

Fingers crossed!

Foxy

Dreams and other updates

I’ve had some strange dreams lately.  The scariest started with me out shopping.  I went from a grocery store where I had some cherry tomatoes from the previous store.  I was in a quandary: I wanted the tomatoes to be cold but I didn’t want to put them down.  No.  I don’t know about the significance of that one.  Perhaps I just feel a bit here and there at the moment.

A bit more shopping later I found myself in front of a place selling TVs.  There was a little boy sacrificing himself by walking into a room that’s about to be set on fire.  I stood there, unable to move while watching him burn to death while he said “Beware of fire.  Fire is dangerous.”  It was very disturbing!  Needless to say I broke down and had a good boo the next day in the office.  There’s only so much a girl can take, you know.

More recently, accompanying the usual search for a toilet in my dreams, I was at work but my office was in an airplane and I was working for superheroes.  Again, I don’t know where that came from but it was very intense as I ran/floated around the office!

Last weekend was a bank holiday weekend in England and I took the opportunity of an extra weekend day to have my period.  I spent most of the weekend rocking to and fro on the sofa and creaking to and from the toilet.  I took my usual tablets and they worked reasonably well!  I’m in shock about that, I can tell you!!  I am surmising that the period wasn’t too bad because I’m still in shock over Dad’s death – heartache overtaking physical pain.

This week at work wasn’t so traumatic.  Of course I cried in the office but that’s to be expected.  I’m trying not to put too much pressure on myself right now.  I’m getting by.  I think it’s what Dad would want.

I promise I’ll stop going on about Dad and moaning.  As you know, moaning really isn’t in my nature but I doubt I’ll ever feel the same after this.  It’s as if there was a safety net beneath me that I completely took for granted.  I knew it wouldn’t be there forever but didn’t appreciate it enough.  Now it’s gone.  Now he’s gone.  I’ll never be able to ask those questions that kids only think of after a parent dies.  I’ll never be able to ask him to forgive me never having children.  I’ll never be able to tell him I appreciated him taking me fishing when I was a kid.

On a more positive note, Helios and I had an argument.  I think it was our first.  As always, arguments start with miscommunications.  When Dad first died, I told Helios that I didn’t want to be treated any differently.  So a few days later when Helios was still cracking jokes, I was feeling more delicate and didn’t appreciate it.  I marched out of the flat in a fit of two-year-old tantrum.  I went somewhere quiet and wondered why he was treating me like nothing had happened and I realised: he needed an update on how I was feeling and what I need.

I walked back to the flat and cried as I told him that I thought I was in shock when I told him that I wanted to be treated the same as always.  Now I’m happy to put on a façade that I’m coping at work, but at home I needed to be able to be vulnerable so that I am better able to be strong in public.  We had a fantastic long hug and I cried on his shoulder.  Since then he’s been as supportive as I could ever want.  Yes Helios, I’m still feeling delicate but, thanks to your help I’m stronger today than I was yesterday.

Foxy

Endometriosis UK

I’ve been baking cookies in exchange for donations to Endometriosis UK at my office.  Here’s why we all ought to support Endometriosis UK.

Endometriosis is a chronic illness that effects between 3% – 20% (these vast differences can be found on a number of different reputable websites) of women and, unlike cancer, is an illness that most only learn about upon diagnosis.

Diagnosis can take anywhere between 5 and 20 years to achieve and always needs to be confirmed with surgery.  In waiting for a diagnosis, women endure terrible pain and are told that it’s in their heads or that it’s “just cramps” – making us assume that vomiting from pain is entirely normal.  Endometriosis pain can range from minor discomfort to passing out entirely from pain.  Needless to say, some find it hard to hold down a job if they’re vomiting from pain once a month.

There is little justification for waiting even 5 years for a diagnosis – let alone 20!  As an endometriosis patient, I would be most grateful to know that women can start to get effective pain management as soon as possible.

After diagnosis we don’t have much to look forward to; we have to settle for pain management treatment that is not entirely sufficient.  Of course, I would prefer that everyone who has a diagnosis immediately is given a tablet and given a cure but as that dream is but a pinprick of light in the distance, what I would really like for now is more recognition.

With recognition comes more research: doctors cannot research diseases that they are not aware of.  With more research comes better pain management, the confirmation of where this disease comes from and, ultimately, a cure.  As with everything else in my life, I know that a tablet with a cure will never come without the rest of the process working – and recognition is the first step.

Believe me, it is hard to know that we are still only at the first steps of the process.  However, don’t forget those of us who suffered with no hope of a diagnosis.  In the dark days when women’s health was of no interest to doctors, women like my maternal aunt would sit in the bathroom and cry for her whole period.  I have no idea if she has endometriosis but, based on anecdotal evidence, I have to admit that I believe she does.  Back in the day women like my mom were told that getting pregnant would cure their symptoms only to have a diagnosis of endometriosis when she had her hysterectomy – many many years after symptoms start.

It is my hope that our endo-daughters and granddaughters have better luck with the medical establishment than those of my mother’s and my generation!  Perhaps they will look back at us and think “How frustrating it must have been for them!”  In order for them to have a brighter future, we must do what we can to raise awareness now.

Endometriosis UK works hard to raise awareness of a debilitating chronic illness.  In the fight against Cancer, we all know to examine ourselves regularly for lumps and tumours, we all know to eat at least 5 portions of fruit and vegetables a day, and we all know to check and double check moles for any changes.  We have a long way to go even before all doctors recognise the agonising symptoms of endometriosis!  We have a long way to go before we get an accurate test for endometriosis as currently the only effective diagnosis is surgery!  We have a long way to go before we know what may prevent endometriosis!

Endometriosis UK provides an invaluable information service to women with endometriosis through helplines, chatrooms, local groups and an email service.

By the time we are diagnosed we’ve been living with crippling pain for years and just the act of achieving a diagnosis creates a number of strong conflicting feelings: vindication that the pain isn’t just in our heads, sadness that we aren’t normal after all, shock that our lives will indeed have to change in order to more effectively cope with pain, guilt that we will have to continually rely on friends and family as there is no cure, and despair at the loss of dreams that are simply unachievable now that there is no cure for our unending pain.

The information service provided by Endometriosis UK helps us cope with the conflicting emotions that we continually experience.  Chronic illness has an effect on every part of a patient’s life.  I may not need to remind you that I consider the diagnosis of my chronic illnesses was part of the catalyst that led to the crumbling of my first marriage.  My ex-husband was unable to comprehend my health problems: he preferred to focus on himself just as he had through the rest of our marriage.  It was when he was unable to support me that I believe I finally began to succumb to depression.  The sad fact was that I was able to support him in his life but he was woefully incapable of supporting me.  Endometriosis was not the only problem between us but it was certainly a factor that led to our divorce.

We’ll never get a cure unless we start to get as many doctors working for us as they do for better known illnesses.  Until then, we will need Endometriosis UK for moral support that we may not be getting at home.

Anyone want a cookie?

Foxy

Another Busy Night

I woke up this morning after another busy night.  I also dreamt that I got a haircut.  Currently my hair is all one length and well past my shoulders.  I wasn’t consulted.  I was given a mullet.  I was distraught.  It’s taken years to get my hair this long, it would take years to rectify all the weight taken off it.

Earlier this week, I dreamt that I was with some work friends at a pub at lunchtime.  I was drinking water while everyone else was eating a lavish meal.  When I got my home-made sandwich out of the grease-proof paper, Helena Bonham-Carter grabbed it away from me and tried to eat it.  I grabbed her wrist and told her to leave my sandwich alone!  Later, we all went back to work but I was later than everyone else so I tried to sneak into my office via my dad’s old trailer park…

While for me dreams provide a nice respite from reality, I do find it irksome that I spent so much of my time (awake and asleep) at work!  Is it little wonder I return to reality with a sigh of relief?

Foxy