Archives For cough

The 1st of May.

I feel like crap. I think I might have caught what Mommy had.

I had a better night in my nice, warm, double bed, but I am still exhausted. Need a few more sleeps before I catch up.

My intention for today was to write about the weekend and maybe even blog about it, but the reality has been sitting in the armchair (which feels just divine compared to my wheelchair/the car) and watching tv we recorded. Trying not to cough which is difficult because my throat is all scratchy. I had a honey and lemon but it was not particularly helpful.

Ohhh I don’t want to be ill again. Especially if it’s a common virus because they always make me feel like shit and last so much longer than they should, the bastards. Going to have some Strepsils and an early night.

The 2nd of May.

Trying to work out if I am ill or just tired from the weekend. I really hope it’s the latter. My sats have been up and down, and I have this dry cough that is hard to alleviate. Strepsils have not been much good.

I have been quite pathetic all day, curled up in my most comfortable clothes. Soft jumper and jogging bottoms. Still a big jumper because my arm is still the same size, so we rang Andrew’s secretary this morning. I need to be in his clinic on Thursday. John and Maddie’s wedding is in a month and I don’t fancy looking like a freak. The thing is, I don’t know what else can be done.

This afternoon, I finally got round to finishing writing about Saturday. I have yet to do Sunday. It took a couple of hours, but that was because I was half-watching recorded programmes at the same time. It’s going to be a long post when it comes.

Mommy went to pick up Sam from Lee’s, so I’ve been in to sit with him for a while too, and have been floofed on. He’s settled right back in.

UGH my body is fucked.

The 21st of April.

Got to get this cat on the website. I sat with him all afternoon, watching episodes three to six of Riverdale, and I found lots of scabs in his fur, bless him. He’s had a really hard time on the streets. Poor kitty.

This morning I was super coughy, and I checked my bloods from yesterday, which said that my CRP is 37. Nobody has phoned me to check that I’m alright, so I’m going to stay aware of how I feel, keep an eye on my sats. They’ve been good in the daytime, and I’ve got respiratory clinic next week. We’ll see what Dr. Thompson says.

I attempted to take some photos of Sam for the website, but he is not the most photogenic of cats. I’ll have to really sell the story and emphasise just how lovely he is. He sits on my lap, occasionally runs over to his food, then scampers back for more lap time. Honestly, if he weren’t so fluffy, i would want to keep him. I just keep inhaling his fur!

The 22nd of April.

This is going to be a short one; very little to report. This morning, I was super coughy and phlegmy again. My sats are mostly alright on air, and I feel alright when I’m not doing very much, but as soon as I take a few steps on my own, I’m in trouble. I don’t know. I have a bad feeling, but maybe I’m just being pessimistic. I hope so.

I came downstairs to find activity that meant a trip was afoot. Not for me. My parents. My 92 year old second cousin twice removed (paternal side) was going to be in Alvechurch to see her son, so Mommy and Daddy were going to go over there after lunch to meet her (for the first time ever).

My afternoon was spent in the company of Sam the floof and the cast of Riverdale, via the medium of television. I’ve now watched all ten available episodes and the next one won’t come out until next Friday. Considering we’re meant to find out who the murderer is at the end of episode thirteen, .I certainly still have no idea. Everyone is a suspect.

They eventually returned just after six, then Mommy went to Grandma’s, and now she’s taken some flowers over the road for Chris and Alison’s wedding anniversary. Tomorrow I will make her rest.

The 22nd of December. 

WELL as if things weren’t bad enough, as soon as I woke up this morning, I knew that the GvHD on my toes was flaring up. Mommy and Christine had gone to a walk-in centre because Christine’s throat was all gross and infected. They came back with no antibiotics, I showed them my toes and Mommy started phoning people. First we tried the haematology pharmacist, who suggested we call the emergency oncology nurse number. I did and spoke to a nurse, who said she’d talk to the doctor and ring me back. 

So I have been mostly sitting around, waiting for a phone call. Eventually I had one from Sandeep who is excellent, and she immediately wrote up a prescription for steroid cream which Daddy is picking up after work. 

Christine helped me wrap my last present for Daddy (too big for me to do alone), and I have watched How To Train Your Dragon. 

I could really do without my skin going insane right now. Systemic steroids are not an option. 

The 23rd of December. 

We are all broken except Mommy. Me with my GvHD, fat arm and cough-causing lung shadow, Christine with her infected throat, and now it seems Daddy has a temperature. Going to be a great Christmas here!

Mommy and Christine have spent the day baking all of the things. Finally we have mince pies (not that I’ll be eating them, bleugh), Nigel Slater’s festive pie, various cakes, and I have iced and decorated the Christmas cake with lots of snowmen. 

I have watched Sister Act 2 and Arthur Christmas, put my presents under the tree and told off the kittens because one of them has chewed through one of the wires to a speaker. Argh. Thankfully it is fixable (or so I’m told). 

Antibiotics make me hungry all the time. Good thing it’s Christmas and there is food covering literally every surface. 

Even though we’re poorly, we must remember how lucky we are. 

The 29th of June. 

Last night it still took a while to fall asleep, but I didn’t wake up and need to drink a lot of water so that’s a plus. Still getting light-headed every time I have a big cough though; I have to force a pause to stop myself going too far. I need to make an appearance on Hallfield Day on Saturday, and right now I think it might be quite brief. 

This morning we had a fun job of looking through the litter tray to check what the kittens’ poos were like, because last night, one of them was upsetting. I spoke to Shaki to discuss handover, and I’m going to meet her at the vet on Friday afternoon so they can have their first jabs and go home with her. I don’t have a carrier big enough for all five but apparently one will be dropped off for us. 

This afternoon, I went upstairs to try to sort out some stuff to take with me on holiday. We’re going to Weymouth and I find it impossible to choose clothing because a) I like to have options and b) it’s Britain so who knows what the weather will do? I procrastinated by updating my iPod and finding powerpacks and camera batteries to charge. I listened to the second heat of the BBC Radio New Comedy Award which Nish hosted, and I really enjoyed everyone unlike the first heat. I wanted Olga Kokh to win, but she came runner up to Michael Odewale. I liked him too though, so I wasn’t as irritated as I might have been. I really ought to keep note of all the people I enjoy. 

The 30th of June. 

When people who aren’t used to it hear me coughing, they must think I have TB or something equally disastrous. I was at the chiro this morning and I couldn’t suppress the cough for that long, so I was offered water and then gin if that would help. Trine had a fair few things to work on, what with me having been doing this for a good three weeks now. She asked about my x-ray and I explained about the lack of reporting. I knew she could do one, they have the equipment, but unless the hospital say they’ve lost the original, she cannot expose me to more radiation. I have liver clinic relatively soon, and I think James will try to sort something out for me because he is a top fellow. We also had a chat about the referendum, as she is from Norway, so she couldn’t vote, but is married to a Brit and has been here for years. She despairs as much as I do. 

Speaking of which – Boris! Or no Boris, as it happens. This is really all going a bit too far now. Gove pitching in is bizarre too, the man who has previously said he has absolutely no interest in being the leader, doesn’t have the capacity, but suddenly he’s realised that actually, Boris is a nincompoop who you wouldn’t trust to run a bath, let alone the country, not to mention a coward and a liar. Let’s not even discuss Labour. 

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.