This is the Day

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Once this is written, I’ll be off to the Gym, for my first ‘serious’ hit at exercise since the Operation.

When I say ‘serious’ I am well aware I cannot go back to the level of exercise I was doing before. However, what can take place is a restart with glutes and obliques, strengthening my core muscles, and see how push ups and planks will work. I can also go back to the Octane machine for a lovely gentle all-over body warm up. My Trainer has details of what can and cannot be done, and on Monday I fully expect to be given stuff to keep me occupied. What can happen in the intervening period is lots of walking, and an emphasis on making sure moving is prioritised over inactivity.

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Most importantly of all, my thirst for writing fiction has resurfaced. I have a plan to completely re-write the start of my main WIP, based on some ideas that have surfaced since the Operation. I also have a 2000 word short story to complete for the upcoming Internet of Words project, which will be kicking into high gear this weekend. There’s probably a series of posts on my mental state post-operation as well, because I’m only now beginning to grasp just how much better I feel psychologically as a result of the gallbladder removal.

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Let’s start the way I mean to go on. Every day from now on starts with the Personal Post. If you want to know what’s going on in my head? Here’s where to find it. Every so often, I’ll post a nugget of personal background too.

Let’s make this place earn its keep, shall we?

Beautiful Day

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I can be quite perverse sometimes, I make no bones about this. This was the child that when parents told me I couldn’t do something would not only do the exact opposite but would give the finger whilst doing so. I realise how destructive this mindset can be, and as a result there are days when it is best for everybody I just leave the Internet well alone. This would be a good descriptor of today, were it not for the fact that both emotionally and physically this is the best I have felt since… well before the operation. Probably months before, because for lunch today were food groups previously potentially capable of making me ill. Personal pronouns do not bother today either.Β  I’ve managed to complete more in a morning than has happened in… seriously, three months.

That’s gotta count for something.

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I can’t tell you about sleep last night either, because being so tired the Fitbit never went back on my wrist after prepping for bedtime, but I wasn’t awake until 5.30 so that’s aΒ  whole hour extra from Wednesday. Once I’ve done the last of the domestic stuff and written about Warcraft, I’ll wander down to the shops for my 30 minutes of exercise and see how the abdominal muscles are healing. I can’t carry anything seriously heavy anyway but there’s a few personal odds and ends that will fit in my backpack without causing an incident and then, if it’s not too painful, there’s going to be treadmill time tomorrow, so I can say I’ve only been off equipment for 11 days. These little things matter, after all.

Mostly, today is a VERY Good Day. Long may they last.

Being Boiled

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It’s been eight days since the Operation. Let’s recap.

  • I woke up today feeling better than yesterday. This is now a three day trend, as is the increase in Active Minutes exercising since Sunday.

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  • This is the longest uninterrupted sleep since before the Op. It was achieved with no caffeine after 2pm and two Paracetamols before bed. This is now the plan going forward until my chest stops hurting. Right now, pain is about a 1, it went up to about a 3 when I walked to the Gym earlier.
  • First Rehab Gym session is booked for 12.30 on Monday, because I’m not going to sit here and just wait to get better. I need to be doing stuff.
  • This assumes I’ll be given the okay by the Surgeon tomorrow that nothing is horribly bad and wrong and all these people telling me how I great I look are not lying.
  • Appointment with Surgeon at 7.45pm tomorrow, because that’s how he rolls.

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  • No, I’m not going to go mad, yes I KNOW I’m still healing, and I realise that if I go too fast I’ll fuck myself up long term. This will not happen. I can prioritise getting better and not overdoing anything. It’s okay. I also LOVE ALL YOU GUYS for looking out for me and taking the time to tell me you care. That’s totally lovely.
  • There’s a separate post at some point dealing with how I will never complain about constipation ever again. Let’s leave that for another time.

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There’s other stuff too, especially on the back of Manchester, the first passing of a Bond actor and writing fiction again. For now however, this will do.

Walk On By

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Unless you’ve had children, it may be impossible to understand the feeling of abject fear and anxiety that will inevitably accompany any terror event with kids involved. There is, of course, only so much you can (and should) protect your children from. Life is about danger, taking risks and understanding that inevitably, circumstances move from your control. That can be particularly hard to grasp on days like today, when rationale and motive are like smoke. The sad fact remains that, whenever a group of people come together to enjoy themselves, someone else will see an opportunity to destroy that as their own sick and demented form of entertainment. It doesn’t matter how you justify the action. If you gain pleasure from the abuse or torture of others, you don’t understand humanity to begin with.

Today is tough. It isn’t just because I have kids who go to stuff unaccompanied. It isn’t because you can’t keep them safe. Mostly today hurts because it will stop people from enjoying themselves. It will damage those in most need of nurturing and protecting. It will make the vital process of relaxation harder, rather than easier. Above all, it is the very real understanding that there for the grace of deities go us. One day, everyone will lose the people they care about, but most will be given the dignity to at least do this in their own way. To have lives snatched away like this, with such a horrific and public display of arrogance, beggars belief.

I’ll be using Social media today to talk about things that make me happy. Every time a message flashes past I want to respond to, this is the mantra I’m repeating. There’s nothing I can add, or want to contribute that will make any difference anyway. I can play my game, and write my posts pretending that nothing has happened, but eventually you have to accept that life is different from yesterday. That’s the way it should be. Sure, it would be fantastic if we could not have the slaughter of millions or the destruction of the planet as part of that change but this is the World, as it is now, and we all have to learn to live with it.

The trick, going forward, is how you become stronger and not cower under other people’s stupidity and ignorance. You use grief as fuel, to drive you forward. It is an inevitable part of life to accept death, but if you can keep it a small part, so much the better. Living well isn’t just being sympathetic to others, it is being angry and frustrated too. Find your own way to deal with these difficult times, but NEVER allow these monsters to control your lives. That way, they win.

Never give the bad guys that kind of power.

You’re Not Alone

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This is the worst things have been since surgery. It isn’t the pain, or the stuff going on with my body (of which there is a lot, it must be said) but my simple inability to cope with the way life has irreversibly changed. It doesn’t help that my inner ears are still not 100% functioning as they should, that I can’t sleep in more than four hour blocks, or that I’m tired in a way that has never been experienced before. All these are surmountable with the support I have. What isn’t happening is recovery at the speed I’d hoped. However, with that said, I feel confident I can walk to and from the Gym tomorrow. That’s the next step in rehabilitation.

This is a day I just have to push through.

I didn’t wake up on Tuesday and suddenly feel better. This surgery has not instantly lifted a weight from my mind either. I’m still afraid of what I eat, but for different reasons. A previously healthy body is in a fair amount of turmoil that I didn’t want and now have to deal with. Mostly I am as miserable as fuck with tons of pain where none existed before, and that’s the most depressing part of everything. Fortunately, I remember this happening before, and the consequences of those three months on the whole of my life, and I will NOT allow the hovering dark cloud to consume me. I’ve come too far for that. It won’t happen. I am stronger than that, and this will pass.

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The most important task today is to get my sleep pattern back to something approximating normal. If it means pushing through, then I will. I am putting a lot of effort into focussing on tasks and not allowing mind to wander.

Today will not beat me.

Iconography

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I’ve been stealth writing stuff all weekend, since Thursday night, mostly because I don’t want to bore people with braindumps that means a great deal to me but not much to them. A friend told me I am perfectly within my rights to own my trauma, but there comes a point where the weight between exposition and boredom becomes very real indeed. I only need to look at my lovely and long-suffering family to understand that, like it or not, some days you just shut up and get on with life. The problem for me, right now, is that history is being rewritten. This is not revisionism, anything but. I am remembering the past as means to survive the present, and that is making for a lot of sudden and sometimes painful revelation.

This morning, we have returned to at least a semblance of normality.

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I went out after dropping the youngest off at School and did about ten days worth of overdue external running around: paying in cheques, posting mail, organising various things ‘outside’ including trying (and failing) to get a doctors appointment for my son. The earliest I’ll now manage outside of school hours is Wednesday, I’m glad he’s not horrendously unwell, or I’d be camping outside the Surgery tomorrow. I am also, inescapably, suffering what I now know is referred pain. Tonight cannot come quickly enough and yet, it is taking forever to arrive. However, I am making the most of the perception disparity by shoving as much work as possible into the space provided.

This may be only a semblance of normality, but it will do.

Running Scared

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Yes, I’m going to need surgery. It appears I’ll need it as a matter of some urgency too, if the panicky phone calls from the Doctor’s surgery in the last hour are any indicator. You see, the doctor I saw this evening didn’t know about my gallstone incident. Knowing this, they want it out NOW, because they’re concerned that what happened with the last one blocked my liver, and if that failed, nope, not going there.

I’ll be seeing a consultant early next week.

What this does to everything else? We’ll work it out, but not today.