Archives For black sheep

The 22nd of June. 

19 degrees. Much more comfortable weather. From the clouds I can see, it looks like the rain is coming. Good. I love a good storm. 

I’ve had a relatively busy day? This morning, I got the new episode of iZombie watched (and almost shouted SHIT and grabbed my face at the ending), then Shaki came over. She had the vet histories of the kittens which didn’t correspond to the names she’d given them so had to rewrite all their forms, and it meant we could now identify which is which. So the one we were calling Betsy is actually Bree, Brodie is still Brodie, the lighter brown tabby is Bailey, and the darker one is Betsy. Once I knew that, I could book them in to Lydon’s for their first set of vaccinations. 

This afternoon I was back at Black Sheep for my colour change with Danyl. We had a chat and I told him about my ice cream kind of inspiration. First we bleached it all, then pink around the sides and at the roots, then added in a coral colour on some of the tips. I’m now a raspberry sorbet/fruit salad/drumstick lolly. 

That was my afternoon gone! Got home just before six, checked on the kittens, and have just heard news that my friends Vicky and Laura have got engaged and I am so happy!

The 23rd of June. 

Well we didn’t really have a storm, but we have the post-storm colder weather. I’ve had to put socks and a cardigan on. 

We were out at the vet at 9.20 for everybody to be jabbed. Although they were running rather late, so we amused ourselves watching the bunnies and baby and dog that were also in the waiting room. Our kittens just went to sleep. Even when we got called in, they stayed pretty relaxed. We did Betty first, then popped her into a separate carrier so I could get at the kittens. They were all fine, nobody struggled, just Bailey needs to eat a bit more. Get her up to a kilo, then they can all be neutered.

Since we got back, they’ve all been totally wiped. Just slept all day, flooped on the floor. I have written up a blog post, had some lunch, done some crochet. Listened to some podcasts, from a whole bunch of selfies to get a good photo of my new hair and iced some cupcakes. 

Daddy’s labyrinthitis has kicked off again, so he was throwing up from late morning until mid-afternoon. He’s only just come downstairs. 

Last night, Bree scratched my right arm, and water came out. Teeny tiny amount of blood, but mainly water. So I suppose if the venoplasty doesn’t work, we stick a load of needles in my arm and squeeze. We’re ringing on Monday. I don’t give a fuck, I have been like this for half a year and it is unacceptable. 

The 14th of June.

It feels like we are just lurching from one tragedy to the next at the moment. Every week there is another atrocity, and it seems every single one is political. There is no doubt that the fact that this is a deprived area with poor residents, and that things have been done on the cheap will have made it worse, and the fire service were unable to tackle the blaze as effectively as they might have because they’ve been decimated by the cuts that Boris Johnson made. Heaven forbid there was a fire anywhere else in London. Just last year the Tories voted down a bill to force landlords to make buildings suitable for human habitation (surprisingly, 72 of them are landlords themselves), and Theresa May’s new top aide has been sitting on a review of fire regulations for months. They kill people. Every day. 

I had haematology clinic this morning, which was not enormously productive. I saw Praveen and updated him on my current circumstances, and he emailed Andrew. The most important thing was that we get some drugs, because my prescription got completely messed up when I was in.

I spoke to Emelda, Andrew’s secretary, and she has assured me that the paperwork has been sent and I should get a date for my next venoplasty very soon. I really bloody hope so; it was super warm today and I want to be able to show my arms without feeling like a freak . 

This afternoon, I hid from the news. I put on a sheet mask, watched Pretty Little Liars and iZombie, crocheted. I am lucky that I am able to escape from it. I can’t imagine the terror felt by those on the upper floors; if I were in that situation, I would find a way to kill myself. Absolutely petrifying. 

The 15th of June. 

I’ve been awake on and off since just before six this morning. It was too hot. Not surprising when you consider I still had my winter duvet on – it has been changed now so hopefully tonight I won’t be so warm. 

Quiet morning. Breakfast, coffee, then out to Black Sheep to get my hair cut at half twelve. Michaela was delighted by my FucktheTories necklace and immediately called Danyl over to see, who was straight in for a high five. I have decided he is going to be my colour guy now. Booked in with him next week. My hair was getting pretty long, so we decided to chop off all the back and sides. There’s only so much that can be changed when it’s this short already but Michaela can always come up with something. 

As I was leaving, I went to get in my chair and there was a lady sat by it with a great little chihuahua called Dolores. She was also a fan of my necklace and we had a photo together. 

Got home shortly before two, and this afternoon I have been crocheting, then unravelling because I changed colour and the new thread was thinner, so it has made the whole doily curl inward. Redo with a thicker one. The fluid in my arm makes it ache. 

The 3rd of May.

I have been putting this off because writing it down makes it real.

It’s been a pretty quiet, mildly shitty day. I still have this stupid dry cough which wakes me up throughout the night, although my throat is less scratchy now, which I suppose is a plus.

We went into Birmingham this morning so I could pick up my copy of the new Jeffery Deaver novel, The Burial Hour. I also needed to get a thank you card to give James tomorrow when we have our last ever appointment, and Mommy wanted a blank card to put a cross-stitch in but couldn’t find one.

This afternoon, I phoned Andrew’s secretary, Emelda, again, but he hadn’t got back to her and there were no spaces in his clinics until the beginning or end of June. At this point I got upset and I tried to explain about the wedding. I didn’t do it on purpose, but she then said she’d keep trying for me and I’d hear back as soon as she spoke to him.

Mommy then went to Grandma’s, and I watched the new Pretty Little Liars and started the book. Mid-programme, Emelda called me back, and I’ve got an appointment for 25th May, so I will “go to the ball”, as she put it. I didn’t tell her that really I need to see him much sooner because she’s obviously pulled strings to get me in there, but I’m going to have to attend the wedding in my wheelchair, on oxygen and with a giant, swollen arm. I am so tired of this. My hateful body.

The 4th of May.

Nothing like bad news from a friend to prompt a reality check. Dean had his operation on Wednesday to remove the tumour on his rib. That part went as predicted, but what the had not expected was to find new tumours elsewhere that weren’t visible on his scan four weeks ago. Obviously this has been a shock to everyone, so they don’t know what the plan will be. I am just devastated for him, for Adam, and his family. I know how it feels to relapse but he hasn’t even been in remission yet. He knows I am here, for whatever he needs, This is the worst of days.

Up until hearing this news, I was having a pretty good day. I don’t think I have coughed so much today, but I won’t get my hopes up about improvement just yet. I had an appointment at Black Sheep to see James to re-tone my hair, my last session with him! I gave him his crocheted monkey and a card with a rainbow sheep on – I thought it was the most appropriate. I was not there for so long today, he was just going over the colour again, so now I’m a bit more vibrant. It has been our best work.

Home briefly, then back out, to the QE for my physio assessment. They were very on time, so I had barely started reading my book before I was called through. I filled in a questionnaire about my pain, then a chap came to see me. We talked a little bit about medical stuff and my current limitations re: oxygen, then he wanted to see what I could do. He had me stand up and bend forwards and backwards, then sit on the bed and twist left and right. Apparently I am quite stiff when going backwards and left. I then had to lie back and do some stuff with my pelvis and legs. Basically, he can give me some exercises/stretches to try out for a few weeks, then I’ll go back and we’ll see what progress has been made. He was very impressed with my enthusiasm and determination, which made me laugh because I used to be so terrible with physios, always pretending to be asleep when they came. I learned the hard way that that is not helpful.

The 28th of March. 

I have felt a-fucking-trocious for most of my day. High levels of oxygen have been required, and even then I have not felt so good. 

This morning I was needing 1.5-2 litres of oxygen just to sit and eat my breakfast. I finished the monster doily, then there wasn’t much morning left before we had to go out to Black Sheep. 

Obviously I took a small cylinder of oxygen with me, and I was doing alright to begin with. However, after James had put the lightener in, I had to go to the bathroom and I knew I wouldn’t get there without help. Because of the fumes and the spray etc in the air, I had to put it up to 3 litres and I was still struggling, but I didn’t want to go any higher for fear of ploughing through the cylinder. I had to text Mommy to get her to bring me a new one mid-appointment because the small ones only last 1.5-2 hours on high volumes. 

I told James off for leaving, but I forgive him because his reasons are good and Saskia will take care of me. We have nailed it with the colour – I look like a load of pixie sticks have been tipped onto my head. In a good way. Michaela is having another baby so I congratulated her, and she gave me a trim. 

I got home at about half past four, so not much has happened since then, but I’ve got the oxygen down again, thank god. I felt absolutely awful. 

The 29th of March. 

Vast improvement. I had a crappy sleep which I am putting down to low sats – when I sat up, they were 88, despite me having been on oxygen all night. However, I have got better since then.

This morning, I wrote up the blog post I should have done yesterday, we had a delivery of oxygen, then I had my rescheduled chiro appointment from last week. I was considering postponing it again, but I did not feel too terrible and my back had started protesting. 

I took the small cylinder with me, so I was able to get into all the necessary positions, which was good because pretty much all of my back had tightened up. Surprisingly, my neck didn’t need any crunching, just massaging into submission. 

Once home, we had lunch, then I updated my phone software (I know) and took a lot of selfies to document my new pretty hair. I started crocheting a new doily, and I’ve got my oxygen down to 1 litre. I wish we could work out what causes me to need it more some days and not others. Knowing me, there is probably no reason.  

The 24th of March. 

Very little to report today. I spent my morning writing all about yesterday, then put it into a blog post. I had some terrible news that James (who colours my hair) is moving to London in May! I’m very pleased for him but also very upset for my hair. I have now booked in to see him and Michaela next week, as I planned on getting it cut on the day I went into hospital, so on Tuesday I’ll have a chop and we’ll work on a spectacular finale of our relationship. 

My breathing has not been great, and that’s because when I’m just on air, my sats are only 90. Now I’ve bought a home sats monitor, I’m obsessed with checking them. It seems I have good reason to be though. 90 is not good enough. I’ll have to keep an eye on them and if they don’t improve we’ll have to see what the doctors think. Can I just get better please?

The 25th of March. 

Okay if this is recovery it is very intermittent and confusing. I slept with the oxygen on, took it off when I got up (which was late because I forgot to set my alarm) and by the time I’d got dressed, my sats had hit 85. This did not bode well. However, during the morning, I started feeling better. I took the oxygen off, and suddenly it seemed I had improved – I’ve been above 95% on air since then. I don’t understand. 

In other news, I checked MyHealth last night on a whim and saw that I have a venoplasty date! 24th of April. A month away. By the time my arm deflates (that’s if it works this time), I won’t be able to wear the rest of my jumpers which have been waiting for the past three months because it’ll probably be warm again. 

For much of my day, I sat and watched episodes of Buffy on the SyFy channel while I crocheted. Every so often I have checked my sats and they’ve been okay, so I think I’m just going to have to see how I feel every day and see if the trend is up or downward. 

The 19th of January. 

Another day of little activity. This morning I wrote up a post, then got somewhat engrossed in a game of Rollercoaster Tycoon. It’s back as an iPad game and I forgot how easy it is to get involved. Yeah, it’s no Theme Park World, but it’ll do. 

I spent my afternoon at Black Sheep. Cut and colour time, change for my birthday. The cut was just a trim, nothing drastic, but the colour has gone from white to pink and people; I think they are my favourite colours to be. Had a nice chat with James about his new business venture and that’s going very well which doesn’t surprise me at all. I got some more of The Man in the High Castle read, although I need to not leave it so long between reads as I have to keep reminding myself what’s happened. 

I got home about half past four, and we watched last night’s episode of Conviction, with which we are now finally up to date. Not especially productive but one can’t be all the time. 

Trump’s inauguration tomorrow. Think I might hide under my duvet until Saturday. 

The 20th of January. 

Trying to pretend today didn’t happen. Ignoring it. Just wishing for tomorrow, when it’s my birthday and hundreds of thousands of people march against a man who represents everything abhorrent in the world. 

I spent a lot of my day feeling quite uncomfortable and sad. I took a lot of selfies to document my new hair when the light was good, and blocked out current events by listening to podcasts. 

I thought I should at least do something constructive, so I’ve started crocheting a very cute pair of otters which will cheer me up when they’re done. 

There’s little else to say. Can today be finished now please?

The 16th of December.

It lifted, thank god. The wrapping day was not ruined. I woke up in time to say bye to Mommy and Daddy before they set off for Wales, then had my breakfast and wrote up a blog post. After fighting for a long time with the lock on the front door (I was being inept), I went round the corner to get some double sided tape and cotton wool pads (not for wrapping, I had just run out). 

After lunch, I set myself up at the dining table with my peppermint drinking fudge, The Polar Express, and all my wrapping paraphernalia. I spent the subsequent three hours indulging in festive spirit, and I have nearly finished, I just need to get some gift bags for a few things that even I am incapable of wrapping. Will pop into Paperchase after The Muppets tomorrow. 

Just after half four, I jumped in a taxi to go back to Black Sheep to have the toner cleansed our of my hair – washing did not give the desired effect. James was lovely and has fixed it, and I’m much happier now. 

I have just finished my dinner of a Domino’s personal pizza and two of four cookies, awaiting the arrival of my parents back home. They are mere moments away. 

The 17th of December. 

Today would have been 100% excellent if not for one (hopefully) minor inconvenience. But I will get to that. 

Woke up stupidly early for a Saturday, but for a good reason – Becky and I were going to watch The Muppets Christmas Carol at The Electric! She came to pick me up at quarter to nine, and off we went. We parked round the back of the cinema, then got some tea before taking our seats. I actually ordered a coffee, but it tasted awful so I went back and got a tea as well. The screening was not as busy as I expected, but some people still managed to be irritating by having brought their poorly-behaved, germ-riddled children. Not acceptable. Still, they could not ruin the magic for me. After all, it is the summer of the soul in December. 

Afterwards, we went to the Cereal Killer Café because I wanted to try one of their “cocktails”. I had a bowloccino, which is Nesquik, Coco Pops, a chocolate curl and espresso milk. So tasty! I would never go there for something like Special K, but combinations or ridiculous cereals, I am all for. 

Before coming home, we went into Paperchase so I could get some gift bags and more ribbon and tissue paper. Now I can finish my wrapping. 

Now to the inconvenience: I happened to push up my sleeves and thought “Ooh, my right arm looks a bit fat. Let’s give it a squish. Ooh, that’s a bit boggy for my liking. Actually, my right foot has felt puffier than usual for the past couple of days. And my breathing has been terrible of late.”

So I don’t know what’s going on, because I don’t have a line anymore, so that can’t be causing it, and it’s only one side, so I’m confused and unhappy. I have started diuretics to try to get rid of some of the fluid, but on Monday morning I might be ringing Gill Lowe to freak out. I don’t want to spend Christmas looking like the Stay Puft marshmallow man. 

This afternoon, Sadie came round! Mainly to see the kittens. She did not steal any (I checked). She was greatly amused by their interest in her feet. They love feet. We stayed with them until they fell asleep, then we watched the end of Mr. Magorium and ate the two remaining Domino’s cookies. 

She had to go about four to make sure her dad had done the pile of sorting she’d left him. Sometimes I wonder who the parent is in that relationship. 

Hoping to god my body deflates with peeing. Don’t make me have another venoplasty.