Archives For June 2016

The 27th of June. 

Five kittens is too many. I am not sure I can do this again, at least not with kittens who, once they are all out of the cage, refuse to let me pick them up. Mommy got bitten earlier when trying to get Nova back into the cage. They’ve all been out since lunchtime so we’ve spent the afternoon doing shifts babysitting. 

I had a better sleep last night, less rumbly. I am hoping it was not a one-off. Maybe things are improving. This morning I did a blog post and some crocheting – I’m over halfway through the blanket (I think – I’m pretty much making it up so it may not be big enough when I get to what should be the end, we shall see). 

I went to see the kittens before lunch, then Nova escaped. I kept the other four in, and tried to get her to come back but she wouldn’t. I figured she couldn’t cause a great deal of damage on her own, so left her while we ate, then I went back. We decided to let them all out so the litter tray could be changed, then the plan was that I would tempt them back in with lunch once they’d expended some energy. This did not work. Some of them ate, and eventually they all settled down for naps in various places around the room. I have another plan for later, but for now I just have to go back in and get hissed at until teatime. 

The 28th of June. 

So the good night was an anomaly. Ugh. Ages to get to sleep again, and time spent awake, drinking all the water to try to quell the cough. 

I had a text from Vlad this morning to check how I’m getting on, so I updated him, and he knows he still won’t see me at the gym for a while. Still, all the coughing burns calories, so some involuntary exercise is going on. 

This afternoon I have been crocheting, just crocheting. I made a mouse for the kittens to play with, then back to the blanket. I bet it’s going to be too small. Blankets are not very satisfying; I don’t think I’ll do many. 

I am going to parliament two weeks today. It is going to be incredibly interesting, partly to see who actually is there and what they have to say. It’s a reception for Anthony Nolan, but it is going to be really difficult to discuss anything other than Brexit and the ramifications of that. I’m doing my best to think positively about it but it’s challenging. Part of me thinks “Why do it? When a majority of only 4% want to change everything? When they won’t actually get the things they voted for, and they didn’t understand what the consequences would be?” Just say it was a huge mistake, and we’ll move on. But there’s too much ego at stake for anyone to actually be sensible. 

The 25th of June. 

It appears I should have done a blog post this morning. Whoops. Oh well, I shall do it tomorrow. 

I still feel horrific in regards to both the referendum and my cough. Mommy refuses to discuss it (the referendum, not the cough) because I get too upset and I think she is concerned about my blood pressure. 

I’ve spent most of my day trying to earn the trust of the new kittens. Three are generally okay with me – the two black ones and the tortoiseshell, but the other two are really not that keen. Actually that’s not entirely the case, only one still backs away from my hand, but because they look so similar, I’ve no idea which one it is. 

This afternoon, I was watching Netflix while they were in the cage (letting them all out to run around on my own is quite a task) and Daddy came in to say hello to them. He was on his hands and knees, giving them all a stroke and having a little chat, and I just thought this was highly amusing seeing as he was not that thrilled with the fostering idea in the first place. 

My shoulder and neck muscles are beginning to ache from all this. By my calculations, I’ve had this particular cough for about ten days, two weeks max, so I think I can expect at least another week. I hope it’s not much longer. 

The 26th of June. 

So tired. I was awake off and on all night because my throat kept getting really dry, so I had to keep drinking to stop the coughing. I seem to be less terrible during the day, then towards the evening, my chest starts rumbling and the cough is constant, and I can’t stop until I’ve shifted the phlegm that’s decided to move. Gah!

This morning I did yesterday’s blog post, and we have more giant crumpets, so that at least cheered me up about life. Craig David was on Sunday Brunch, which took me back to the good old days of Re-Rewind, when I was about ten years old and life was simple. I immersed myself in that while I heard of Jeremy Corbyn’s cabinet dropping like flies. British politics is an absolute disaster right now. 

After lunch was kitten time. They still hiss at me when I go in, but then they allow me to stroke them so I don’t know, they’re just daft. I did manage to pick up three (one at a time) and they let me hold them on my lap and pet them, and as soon as they got a bit wiggly, I put them back in. I get the feeling Nola (big black one) is going to be one of those cats that likes to sit like a human. I think that by the time they have to leave, we might be friends. 

The 23rd of June. 

Ohhh, this cough can just fuck off now. I am sick to death of it. At least today has been very low on referendum chat on the news, so I haven’t had to hear that drivel too. 

Most of my day I’ve been crocheting, awaiting this evening’s kitten delivery. They’re here now, all fine, and they are not easy to tell apart. There’s Nadia and Noelle, the two tabbies, and one has grey ears and a black nose whereas the other has brown ears and a pink nose. One tortoiseshell, Nova, she’s easy. Then the two black ones, Nettie and Nola, and that only obvious difference between them is that one is much smaller than the other. 

They were very feral when they were found, and used to be very hissy and spitty, but no one has got upset with me yet, even though I am very loud and coughy. They appear to just be exhausted. 

Tonight I think I will take multiple Zopiclones – the result of the referendum will probably have me too anxious to sleep. The general election was bad enough, and if we leave the EU, I think life might become totally unbearable. 

The 24th of June. 

I am shocked, frightened and devastated. I can’t see how this will end well. We have lost so much. European funding into medical research. Gone. Investment into places like Hull and Cornwall. Gone. David Cameron will go in October, meaning another, worse Tory will be inflicted upon us unless they want a general election which is unlikely. 

A generation given everything for free have destroyed the future of mine. No more free movement, no ability to work and study in 27 other countries. This will only increase the attacks on our public institutions and services when the money the Leave campaign claimed we’d get back is actually not there. People saying “We’re Great Britain, we’ll sort it out like we always do, this is our England” and that means nothing. You can’t just say it’s all going to be fine because this isn’t a fucking film and it could easily all come crashing down. 

I just want to weep continuously. I’m appalled, and there is no silver lining here. 

The 21st of June. 

Woke up in vast amounts of pain because I appear to have pulled a muscle in my back in the night. Just to really help matters. I was up for about an hour before Mommy and Daddy left, and since then I have moved very little.

Jen came round to pick up the kitten adoption forms and money, but she is also full of germs so did not stay. I did a post, then have spent what remained of the day crocheting. Not the blanket (I think that stitch I was doing contributed to the hand cramp), so I thought I’d go back to that doll I had been doing. I was working on the pyjama set and teddy bear, and decided to finish the teddy first. Unfortunately, I nearly got to the end of the head when I ran out of wool. Most frustrating. I started on the pyjamas, and did one leg before the postman came with more wool! I’m doing a manatee called Orlando to send to Emily, my American friend who sent me the big box of goodies. 

Once again, my afternoon has involved sitting in my armchair, watching Parks and Rec, and crocheting. I’ve been texting Christine because she still feels terrible so we have been commiserating with each other. I also had a phone call from Elaine about my scan results, and apparently the coil is in the right place, so I suppose I just have to wait and see how things go. 

I’m ordering Domino’s for dinner. 

The 22nd of June. 

I have been outside today, although to be honest I didn’t really have a choice. Oxygen clinic. We bumped into some unexpected people though, so that was a plus. First, we saw Ram, my haematology consultant, who appeared to be leaving the hospital, sporting an eye patch like the ones you see people wearing after cataract surgery. He saw us so we said hello, but he would only say he’d had some “emergency treatment” and was going home, not over the road to do his clinic. Very mysterious. Then who should we see but nurses Kirsty and Philippa from liver clinic! Philippa has returned from maternity leave, so she showed me pictures of her baby, and I showed her some of the kittens. We talked about seeing all the team on tv (Philippa works at BCH as well), then I really had to go as it was time for my appointment. 

I got called in quickly, and we weren’t there long. I just had to chat to a nurse about my oxygen usage, and they stab me in the earlobe (good blood supply there) to check the oxygen levels in my blood. They have gone up from 9.6 to 10.6 (ish) and apparently that is significant so hooray! That was all, then we went over to haematology clinic to ask about my back x-ray but it still hasn’t been reported on so more emails will be sent. SIGH.

We went home via the Bullring so I could look for some pyjama shorts that weren’t super short (you wouldn’t think it would be too difficult but you’d be wrong) and replenish my stock of facewipes. 

This afternoon, I have watched the new episode of Pretty Little Liars (!!!) and finished crocheting Orlando the Manatee. He is adorable. 

The 19th of June. 

I have hand cramp after too much crocheting. Cramp has blighted me today – almost every coughing fit makes my abdominal muscles spasm, and when I was blow-drying my hair earlier, my left hand seized up. So all in all a very poor day for my muscles. 

I had to wrap Daddy’s Father’s Day presents and write his card before I went downstairs this morning, and he was very pleased with his apple brandy caramels and Ladybird Book of Dad. I wrote up a blog post, watched Sunday Brunch, and started crocheting a kitten blanket. I also found that now the coughing fits are making me light-headed, and if it gets any worse we’ll have to get the oxygen cylinders back out. I actually have oxygen clinic on Wednesday but they won’t be making me do things with a cylinder on, just making sure I still need it. Yep, it’s very useful. I’ve already added in the third pillow at night, so I’m sleeping more upright. If I try to get too horizontal, I just can’t stop coughing. 

This afternoon has been quiet, just curled up crocheting. My default activity when I am poorly and don’t want to engage my brain. 

The 20th of June. 

Every day I do not cough in the future I will be grateful. It is exhausting. I don’t sleep well, then I spend all day suppressing coughs until they explode out of me with such ferocity that I end up bent double and gasping for breath. Stupid phlegm and germs, ruining my life. I am boosting the sales of tissue companies though. 

I’m not going to dress it up – I have sat in front of the tv all day and worked on a blanket. I have at least made a dent in the amount of programmes on the TiVo box. I realised that 36 episodes of Parks and Rec had built up, so I watched six of those, then moved on to Russell Howard’s Comedy Central. I also spoke to Christine who is a poorly puffin too. She has very bad stomach ache, like she needs to be sick but hasn’t been, yet she still stopped to help a lady carry a pram up about four flights of stairs. We are not having a great time. 

That is pretty much it for today. Tomorrow will be much the same, I think – on my own all day because Mommy and Daddy are taking Grandma up north to see her pals. I decided not to join because nobody wants to spend at least six hours in a confined space with me and my phlegm, and I don’t want to give what I’ve got to old ladies. Do not think they would appreciate that. 

The 17th of June. 

Oh dear, I feel ghastly. I seem to have rid myself of one cough to pick up another one which is worse. I didn’t sleep well because my nose was partially blocked so I had to breathe through my mouth, I kept waking up to cough…I really didn’t want to get out of bed. 

This morning, I got my blog post done, then went to let the kittens out for the first time since we brought them home yesterday. They were delighted and ran around like mad things. The food bowl was turned upside down, dried food all over the floor, just chaos. Eventually, Gabby got under the bed, so I put the other two back in the cage and just had to wait for her to emerge.

After lunch, Daddy and I went to see The Nice Guys. It is a bit ridiculous – it’s entertaining, lots of action, although I had the problem I often have when there’s shooting in films – why can’t people who are supposedly using guns a great deal such terrible shots, even when they’ve got a machine gun? It irks me greatly. Also, for any fans of very old America’s Next Top Model, Yaya from Cycle 3 is in it! She has not aged at all. 

I really want to go to bed, but it’s only quarter to eight. Maybe I’ll go upstairs after Would I Lie To You, take some Zopiclone, no dreams. 

The 18th of June. 

I am exhausted. I had two Zopiclone last night but they didn’t knock me out like they usually do; it took a lot longer than normal, but I don’t know if that was because I couldn’t get my breathing right, and everything needs to work together for the tablets to be effective. So I have the “hangover” without the benefit. 

There is no impulse to move if I don’t have to, and every three or four breaths, my chest starts rumbling and I have to shift the phlegm. Sometimes one cough will get it up, but more likely is that I’ll have to keep forcing them out until my throat clears. Then I’ll need to blow my nose and what feels like gallons of junk comes out; I don’t know where in my head it’s being stored but it just keeps coming. I’ve got decongestant and an olbas inhaler to keep my sinuses clear and carbocisteine to keep the phlegm from sticking anywhere, but other than that, I can only wait for it to bugger off when is ready. Fuck you, lung disease. 

The adoptions both went off without a hitch, everybody behaved themselves and I’ve heard that Gabby and Gabe (now Florence and Freddie) are out and pottering about, and I haven’t spoken to Eliott who took Gracie but I’m going to assume no news is good news. 

When everyone was gone, I sat and filled in paperwork and registered all the microchips, and since then, I have flooped.

The 15th of June. 

Bloody kittens. The day before they get neutered and I need Gracie to eat as much as possible before 9pm (when they have to be nil by mouth from) and she can’t be arsed. She was 950g when we weighed her the other day so she might be alright. We have to get them to the vet super early tomorrow, half eight, then off to the food show, so at least we’ll be there before the rush. 

I was meeting Vicky and her girlfriend Laura in Yorks this afternoon for a long overdue catch up. I  literally do not know when we last hung out – it was before we had any kittens so probably at least a year? We are really bad at meeting up. But we always have a lovely time. We drank coffee and tea, and I presented them with a housewarming gift of the dumpling kitty, which they love. Chatted about the referendum (we are all firmly pro-in), our various ailments, the shooting in Orlando, kittens and giant dogs. After two and a half hours, we needed to go our separate ways, so I got picked up and they went to buy a broom.

Once home, I let the kittens out to run around and gave them a late lunch as they’d finally finished their breakfast. Had to stop Gabby climbing behind the tv several times, and eventually they had to go back to bed. They are going to be a nightmare tomorrow when they’re starving. Not looking forward to that. 

The 16th of June. 

Today was going so well. Now all I can think about is that Jo Cox has been murdered in a senseless attack. There is speculation as to the motive, but it’s tough to comment until it’s official. Whatever it is, a three and a five year old are now without a mother, and they will find it difficult to separate a real memory of her face from a photograph. 

We started the day by taking the kittens to the vet to be neutered and chipped. They were ready to bite my hand off, having had no food since last night. Dropped them off, then went to pick up Grandma to go to the Good Food Show. I took my ticket and went off by myself in search of coffee. My usual supplier wasn’t there this time, so I had to get some from an untested source, but it didn’t taste like garbage. I worked out where I wanted to go on the map, which involved mainly purveyors of baked goods. I found The Brownie Bar first, where I bought four brownies – Nutella, rich chocolate, oreo and salted caramel, plus a corker, which is a cookie with brownie in the middle. Then I went to Gower Cottage, just for a brownie, but then I tried this brownie butter they’ve made and it is orgasmic. I had to have some. I picked up some macarons from Sweet Little Things who are new (bourbon and smoked sugar, coffee, mint chocolate and salted caramel), and they were so delicious – they actually tasted of what they’re supposed to, which is rare. I could detect the salt in the salted caramel. My only other food purchase, apart from my lunch, was some cinnamon bun oreos. Very exciting. When I was bored and bimbling around, I got talked into buying some microdermabrasion stuff, which I have to use now or it’ll be a waste of money. I had a cheese filled burger for lunch, then met back up with Mommy and Grandma and we came home. 

We just had time to unpack our purchases before having to go back out to pick up the kittens. Everything went fine, we have to keep them in the cage tonight and feed them little and often. They are starving and want to run around. It’s not going to be fun.