Look Away

My husband’s going to be going for surgery in nine days time, after which he (potentially) has a six week recovery window. This won’t be day only either, but involves a protracted stay. He’s in good enough spirits right now, so it’s not a massive stress. Tomorrow we are taking my son to his Halls of Residence to begin year one of University. This is also not a massive stress.

However, I am hugely stressed, by a combination of other factors: those two things are acting as welcome distraction. All will all be dealt with, and it is, but in my own time. As a result therefore there are apologies for what is likely to end up as a month of largely radio silence. This is not an indicator of issues, rather that they are being addressed in the way that  as taught back in May/June/July, which frankly seems like a lifetime ago.

Twitter will be more up to date. I suggest you find me there.

History Repeating

There is a strict policy enforced in this house. Writing about my family is off limits. There are many, sensible reasons for this, that have emerged over the last few years, and they will not alter. That means the emergency that took place on Thursday, like everything else that’s happened in the last month, gets consigned to history as quickly as is humanly possible.

Needless to say, this is another thing I never, ever want to have to go through again.


I’m getting better though, that much is apparent.


However, crucially there is only an intermittent voice and still far too much coughing to be normal and so, like it or not, I will drag my sorry arse back to the Doctors tomorrow.

There will also be poetry submitted before a deadline. That’s progress.


Definitely getting better.


The biggest problem is energy levels. This 30 minutes yesterday ended up feeling like three hours. It’s probably sensible therefore that today is a rest day. An awful lot of excess sugar’s been removed from my diet, not really intentionally, it’s just happened. That needs to be replaces with something, and in this case it is fruit sugars and honey covering the shortfall.

Oh, and the occasional portion of bread and butter pudding.

School is back, and so that will mean a return to pseudo-normality. The difference this time around is that the eldest will be at University starting in a fortnight. That’s gonna be slightly strange, and I’m already missing him (as he’s been away in various places since I was hospitalised.) However, this is the march of life. That’s how these things work. The hope is that we’ve done a decent job as parents to prepare him.

Time will tell.


The plan is to start writing again tomorrow, or rather start editing some stuff I want to submit to a contest next week. After that, I’ve almost found the bottom of the washing bin, and then there needs to be an effort to start working back to full fitness. I’ve lost nearly 4 kilos in the last month, half of which is muscle mass. There needs to be an effort to get that back as a matter of priority.

There probably needs to be more tea too.

That Thing

I’m gonna end up writing a gaming post today, on the back of comments that I’ve seen, despite having muted a key phrase in my Twitter feed. It’s inescapable, like the march of seasons and the annoyance of those who think waiting for someone else to solve their issues is the answer. What amazes me, and continues to do so, is the perception of different as better.

Often, different is exactly the same as it was, except you forgot that was the case.


Porridge for me is a case in point. Oats have, for many years, been my way of getting energy throughout the day without the stress of over-sugaring myself. Except, over time, pre-packaged snacks have risen to challenge that dominance. Energy bars, conveniently presented, luring me into excess sugar I don’t need… making me think they’re somehow better than the first bowl of morning oats, with some fruit chucked in for good measure.

Hospital was a benefit in that regard. Porridge, small bowl, handful of berries. No fuss. No stupid concept treats with ingredients I don’t need. This is the fuel needed to get me through lunch without stress. Today therefore will be day three of the Huel shake plus a planned porridge and pomegranate snack that doubles as part of lunch, with some extra fruit and nuts. Why did I forget that simple was best? Why was I that dumb to begin with?

Mostly, on reflection, it is my own stupidity to blame.


I know I’m not supposed to be so hard on myself. Don’t worry, I get that. I also grasp, only too well, that improvement isn’t just a notional set of numbers, or a line or two that gets drawn in the sands of expectation. The problem for me is obsession. Separating need from desire is a tough ask sometimes, but things are improving on that front. I know I’m capable of great things. The problem’s in execution, not ideas.

So, it is no wonder that occasionally the path is deviated from. To fix it isn’t just about knowing what matters however, but how that’s reached with the most amount of enjoyment along the way. Let’s face facts, that’s summat I’ve forgotten how to do in the last six months. Enjoying myself, as it happens, is not nearly as stressful as used to be the case. In that regard, counselling is the gift that keeps on giving.


Time for porridge, and then let’s see if we can start making sense of the bombsite that is this house.


With reference to the last week or so:


Once upon a time I’d have deconstructed the living fuck out of an Emergency A&E trip. The unexpected is the very life blood of Social media dreams: spontaneous drama, lots of blood, potential life-changing situations. Only when shit happens to you, up close and personal, does it become apparent that the last thing you wanna do is talk about how fucking petrified the entire experience made you.

I should be on the mend now, that’s the idea. Certainly writing this I’m in a better mental and physical state than that’s been the case for 10 days. The house doesn’t look like a bombsite, and there’s at least a notional plan tomorrow to get writing back on track. However, as is now apparent, things can go south with your health with alarming speed. However healthy you think you are, there’s always a chance you’re not.

Next, therefore, is probably gonna be a bit different than was previously the case.


It helps of course that tomorrow is September. There was a one hour walk at the Gym this afternoon, with the plan to walk (a lot) for the next couple of weeks, which should allow my much-maligned lungs a chance to recover a bit. I’ve gotta go see the Doctor about getting my asthma managed more effectively. The house needs a better clean than it currently has to eliminate sources of dust and mould.

I could do all this, plus get some stuff submitted, if I were smart about my time, but the fact remains that what was supposed to be my yearly holiday ended up as more stressful than anything in the previous six months combined. I need a break. Therefore, health beats everything else. Taking it easy, not going mad. I’ll scale back the website and online stuff until October, because I’m not an idiot.

Nothing important is going anywhere.

Not a Job

I was on holiday. Then I was a proper A&E Emergency after which, everything else became largely academic. Of the eight days scheduled to relax, one and a bit were without major incident. This is not optimal. I’m also nowhere near well yet: prescribed drug courses all end on the day I was admitted (Friday) with the maths required to ensure everything is taken at the right time already painful to process.

Nothing else matters now except clean underwear and getting better. When both exist in sufficient quantity, I’ll be with you.