Archives For death

The 1st of May.

It’s our last day with Little Pidge! Shaki rang this morning to discuss arrangements for her, because she’s off to Exeter tomorrow. Shaki will be here about quarter past eight in the morning, so I’ll say my goodbyes tonight. I’ve written up some bullet points about her but it’s very basic. She’s a good kitty, I’m sure once her wound clears up she’ll be homed really quickly because she is lovely.

This morning, I wrote up a blog post, we cleaned Little Pidge’s wound, then I wrote the little bios of the dogs I’m taking to Mach on luggage tags. I also managed to help out a girl who’s going and was looking for tickets for some shows, two of which I could assist with. We’re going to go to a couple of shows together, so I’ve done a good deed and made a new pal!

After lunch, we popped to Tesco to get some instant coffee for Wales. Last year I had none and was sleepy until I got into the town every day. I bought mochas because they’ll be slightly less awful than the lattes. It’s a last resort.

Then, I sat with the cat and we watched Scandal some more. Tomorrow I won’t have my companion!

The 2nd of May.

My back is dreadful this evening and that does not bode well for this weekend. Two very long journeys (well, three-ish hours) are bad, just sitting in the car. Today all I’ve done is sit in the living room. I think I’m just going to have to drink enough to not notice the pain.

The weather has been horrific for most of the day, and I had a book being delivered (new Joona Linna eeeeee), so I decided not to go to the gym. Instead, I put together the present I’ve made for Esmée, then tried to come up with a way to occupy myself for the rest of the day.

We’d just started to eat lunch when I looked at my phone, and found out that John Underwood died two weeks ago. I am stunned. I have known him for a few years, since before his transplant, and we talked a lot about GvHD and how it is to live in hospital. He’d had his ups and downs, but he had seemed to be improving. It was slow, but he was taking steps, both literally and figuratively. I don’t suppose I will ever know what happened and that is difficult. I suppose I’m just in shock. I did not see this coming.

Since my appointment yesterday with Dr. Thompson, I’ve been feeling pretty depressed. I know that physically, since the pneumonia and collapsed lung, I have found it hard to do much more than walk a few metres without struggling for breath, but to now have it confirmed that there is no hope of recovery is hard to hear. I had just got used to one standard of disabled life, and now I have try to envision the rest of my life again in this new version. I am tired of grieving for lives I thought I’d have.

It’s difficult when I spent months this year so chained to oxygen, having to exist as a blatantly, visibly sick person, and I hated it. Truly, despised it, because the first impression I gave was one of illness, and my appearance inspired pity in strangers. I cannot bear the idea of living a pitiful life. The very opposite of every intention I ever had. And I know that the next rung down on the ladder of lung disease is one where I am constantly adorned with plastic tubing. That scares me because living when it was so much effort to even brush my teeth was almost intolerable, and I don’t know if I have the strength to fight through every exhausting moment being miserable. I had rather decided that when it became impossible to be happy the majority of the time, I would find a way to end it.

But in the past, even when I have felt darkest, most lost, I still wanted to be alive. Or at least, I didn’t want to not be alive. I didn’t want to miss things, and I didn’t want to be the cause of the agony of death that I’ve felt more than enough times for any normal lifespan. I know I am most likely to die first in my family, but for it to be self-inflicted would be crueller than is necessary.

I saw Murder on the Orient Express today. There is a notion in the story, something I have thought about before, when we lost Dean – that when one person dies, there is a ripple, an avalanche. Everyone around them dies too, at least a little. I can’t instigate that kind of pain, not on purpose. I think there will be moments in the future in which I don’t want to be alive, not right then. It has happened before. But there are also always things to come that bring me happiness. Maybe I can adjust to a different life. Again. I just think that while I am able, I ought to endeavour to enjoy the time I have, whatever way I have it. To try to improve the lives of people around me, and use my voice to champion the things that have kept me here thus far.

Even when everything seems merciless and wearisome, for as long I can hold on to some strand of hope, I won’t let go.

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The 5th of November. 

I hate Bonfire Night. I hate fireworks and bonfires. The brightness hurts my eyes and the smoke hurts my lungs. I hate them because I can’t enjoy them like a normal person and I am bitter about it. At least now they might stop until New Year. 

Did a blog post this morning, no great excitement there. I could hear Mommy upstairs in my bedroom, hoovering, and it made me think about all the stuff she does that I can’t and how I’ll cope if it gets to a point where she isn’t able to do those things. Hoovering, dusting, making my bed. I don’t like thinking that far ahead. But the only way for that scenario to be avoided is for one of us to not be alive and I am not a fan of that idea. In fact, I can’t bear it. Hence avoiding the future. 

Well, that was bleak. This afternoon, a lady called Tracey came with her partner to view Chester. He’s nowhere near ready to go and she knows that, but they got to meet and she could see if he was suitable. We think he will be – he’s going to be a friend for a sad dog. They left after about an hour, having provisionally agreed a date for adoption, which works for all of us because it means Christine will get to meet him too. 

The 6th of November. 

I was wrong about the fireworks. People are still doing it this evening, presumably because they are awful. Bah. And I woke up in a weird mood because I had the same dream about being a serial killer three times from different perspectives. 

So I’m tired. Physically, mentally. My muscles hurt from getting up from sitting on the floor with the kittens so every time I stand up I groan. Most of my day has been spent working on the last gnome, the biggest one. All his parts are now finished, so I’ll assemble him tomorrow. 

I had to ring the GP because they’d called on Friday about a letter from the dental hospital. When I did, the receptionist said it was a secretary who’d phoned but she doesn’t work on Mondays so I have to ring back tomorrow. Why a random secretary from the GP is ringing, I don’t know. 

I’m really not looking forward to my lung function tests on Thursday. I know the results are going to be shit and I really don’t feel like hearing for definite that the pneumonia and collapsed lung have resulted in permanent damage. 

 

 

The 4th of September. 

Keeping busy. I had a reasonable sleep, thank god, and today I’ve just been trying to keep my mind concentrating on different things. 

This morning, I wrote up a blog post, and rang up Lydon’s to book the kittens in for their first vaccs. Mommy stood on Harvey’s foot last night and was worried that she’d hurt him, but he was running around and putting weight on it soon after, so I wasn’t massively concerned. And of course, I’ve started up another doily. 

After lunch, it was time to go to the vet. We weren’t going to try to take Henrietta, seeing as I can’t touch her and Mommy is only vaguely tolerated. Packed the two kittens into a carrier and off we went. They were more stressed by the experience than I expected, not even wanting treats when they were on the table. They both are pretty much heavy enough to be neutered, but their balls are too small so we’ll leave that a while. Got some decongestant powder for Henrietta and tablets for the kittens so that’ll be joyous to try to administer. 

Since we got back, I’ve booked a trip to London. An installation has been put up in Paternoster Square of the names of blood cancer patients to make blood cancer visible as part of blood cancer awareness month. It’s only on until the 30th so I’ve had to book a special trip!

The 5th of September. 

I got a message from Adam this morning, telling me to put Victoria Derbyshire on. I assumed there was just going to be a piece about Dean, as I knew she had spoken to him via Twitter. I was beautifully surprised to see Adam, Drew (Dean’s brother) and Josh (Dean’s friend and the co-founder of HISKIND) sitting on the sofa, ready to tell the viewing population about him. And they were so brilliant. Adam spoke so movingly, and was able to not fall apart. And people sent in really lovely comments about him – even in a short segment, it was obvious what an incredible guy he was. He will be loved forever. 

This afternoon, I’ve been crocheting and catching up on Nashville. Also we tried giving the kittens the worming tablets which didn’t really work, so we smushed them up and put them in their food, and put the decongestant powder in Henrietta’s, which she gobbled up. Hopefully she’ll start breathing a bit more quietly. Bless her. 

Haematology clinic in the morning. Good. I need more eye drops. My left eye has been bad for a week, and doing the dexamethasone drops twice a day isn’t enough. Back up to three, need more drops. 

The 2nd & 3rd; Dean is gone.

September 4, 2017 — 3 Comments

The 2nd of September. 

Tired. Got in last night about ten and I’m not sure what time I fell asleep but a long day in the wheelchair equals tired body. Back hurts a lot. 

This morning, I wrote about yesterday, which took pretty much up until lunchtime. I should have then put it into a blog post but I had not the impetus to do so. That can wait until tomorrow. 

Lunch was disappointing because M&S didn’t have any pretzels or cinnamon swirls, boo. Then I went upstairs to lie down, give my back a rest. At least my eyes have been less terrible today. No make up has helped. 

Then, back to crochet – some more wool got delivered yesterday and hidden in the porch (I ran out of purple, annoyingly) so the rest of my afternoon has seen me catching up with Bones and Celebrity Masterchef while working on the doily. I’m on the penultimate round now, and I really fucking hate Lesley Garrett. She is one of the most irritating people in the world, I think. 

I am yawny. New X Factor tonight, then bed. 

The 3rd of September. 

Dean is gone  

No, not gone. Cicero said the life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living, and those of us that knew him will never forget. He had such an open heart and a brilliant mind, and I feel so lucky that he took me up on my offer of cancer chat. 

Adam broke the news late this morning, and since then I have felt somewhat numb. I can’t talk about it, not out loud. I don’t want to be hugged. Then everything will spill out. Tears have come and gone, on my own. 

I just don’t know what to say. I feel like I have been punched in the throat. Since I heard, I have buried my head in crochet, and have finished the doily. It’s enormous. Where it will end up living, I don’t know. I was going to give it to Grandma but I’m not sure there’s space for it in her room. 

At least there is some comfort to be taken in knowing that his agony is over. I wish it hadn’t been this way, that his death wasn’t the reason so many people are talking about him today. He deserved more. 

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The 9th of May.

Stupid eyes today. Not sleepy, but painful. I have a review at the eye clinic coming up next week so I’ll bring it up then but ugh. It is just so frustrating when it seemed to be getting better.

This morning, I wrote up a blog post, and tried on some dresses I’ve ordered for John and Maddie’s wedding. I’ve got to find something that will accommodate or disguise my arm because I can’t wear what I originally planned to. One of the three is okay, I think. I need to look at it again before I send the other two back.

This afternoon, I’ve been sitting with Sam and I watched the last two episodes of 13 Reasons Why. Shit, I can see why it has caused quite so much controversy – watching Hannah slit her wrists is really horrific and I found myself holding on to the cat quite tightly to cope. I related to the moment before she got in the bath, when she looked in the mirror. Like she was saying goodbye. I feel like I’ve got to that place before, but I have always turned back. I have never really needed to die, I have just wanted whatever was so bad to be over, and I hoped that life would be better afterwards. I always have hope. Which I suppose it’s part of what keeps me here.

The 10th of May.

I have felt like total crap all day. It began with a pretty terrible sleep, because I had to sleep in Christine’s bed last night. Yesterday morning I spilled orange juice on my carpet, and the carpet cleaner smelled so strong, I couldn’t sleep in there and comfortably breathe.

This morning I had a chiro appointment, and it was all a struggle. I got myself into Trine’s room and she found that the muscles in the left side of my back were very stringy. I don’t really know what that means but it wasn’t very pleasant, having them made un-stringy. It is probably from sitting in my wheelchair all weekend at Mach.

I was supposed to be at the dentist and hygienist this afternoon but I could barely breathe just sitting up, so doing it with lots of instruments in my mouth was not going to happen. Cancelled that.

So, I had my lunch, watched new Pretty Little Liars and iZombie, then curled up on the sofa to have a rest/nap. I put on a Gardeners’ Question Time and closed my eyes (which have been hurting too) and I think I did occasionally nod off. I certainly remember jerking awake. Not really sure what that means for me as I can only sleep in the day when I’m poorly, so I’m really hoping it was just because I’m knackered.

The 26th of November.

It has not been a good day. I woke up in the night to pee and nearly fell over because I felt like I was drunk. When I was woken up again by an angle grinder being used by the builders next door, I still felt like my head wasn’t connected to my body and it has not got better as the day’s gone on. I just tried a travel sickness tablet and it hasn’t worked. It’s so weird – my blood pressure is fine, I don’t know what’s going on. I’m hoping it’s purely a 24 hour thing. 

To then make matters worse, we had some really terrible news. Our friend Keith, who has been waiting for a liver transplant for over a year, got the call yesterday morning and went into theatre in the afternoon. We found out today that he died on the table. There is always a risk, of course, but you never expect it to happen to someone you know, and it has gone from being the best Christmas present to total devastation. I am so sad, and even more so for Mommy, who made the most agonising noise when she read Gareth’s (Keith’s husband) message. I just wish that more people were donors. It could have been different. 

So I’m sad, I feel weird, I have no kittens to pet, and I don’t like life today. The only good thing that happened was that my Biscuiteers advent calendar got delivered. 

The 27th of November. 

I still feel weird today. Not as bad as yesterday, but I’m still not 100% okay. 

So this morning I did things very slowly, no fast movements and no turning my head too quickly and I’m alright. I watched Joe on Sunday Brunch and did a bit of hat crocheting but that was all. 

Daddy and I went to see Amber, one of the other fosterers. She had a problem with the electrics in her cat pen (it’s like a lit, heated shed for cats to live in) so we went to see if Daddy could fix it. I had no real input, I just stood and petted her enormous floofy Maine Coon while Daddy took things apart. It turned out to be pretty easy – her plug was full of water and some of that wires had corroded. We just had to go to B&Q where Daddy got a new plug, then we went back and he made it work again! Shaki will be thrilled that we now have more space. 

When we got home, I had time to do a tiny bit of prep for tonight’s CP meeting before we had our rather late lunch. I had about twenty minutes after that and it was time to go to Lee’s. Now I’m homing officer, I have a lot more to do with these kind of things. I might have some cats soon, it depends on what happens with the viewing at Nicole’s tomorrow.