When a friend was hospitalized for appendicitis, people flocked to visit him at the hospital. When I was clinically depressed, some who knew it avoided me like the plague. But I completely understand — it’s natural for us to be afraid of the unfamiliar, including unfamiliar illnesses. And when it comes to depression, people are wary […]
So I don’t usually moan, I’m your “it is what it is kind of guy” in fact I’m your it is what it is but how does it work and what’s the engineering involved in it kinda guy . . . . . But!
This year, I’ve been lucky enough to travel out to Las Vegas to get married. Whilst out there I did of course have the need to visit the odd public loo, or “Restroom” as they seemed to be called in america. Not sure why, I did not feel the need to take a rest in one. Now, I’m not singling out the US because more and more in the UK we find automation. Taps, hand dryer’s, flusher’s etc etc. But they did seem to be on everything out there.
Now I totally understand, especially in a public restroom’s why the need for less people to share is a priority. Some of the bogs I’ve been into in my time you need to wipe your feet on the way out. I’m reminded of the toilet in trainspotting as I type this.
But here’s the thing, this automation, it has to work and It has to work well, and it has to work first time. I found myself flapping, waving, jumping up and down, you name it I tried it. As a bloke in the loo there is a certain protocol involved in going for a wee wee. You get in, you don’t talk to anyone, you get out! So to be forced to stand at a sink waving your hands back and forth in order to try and get water out or soap or some air to dry your hands is not ideal. You wave your hand water comes on, you go to wash your hands the water goes off, wave hands, nothing . . . . go to turn away water comes on. Arrrrggggghhhhhhhhh. I still prefer the idea of automation in toilets it just needs to work please.
Stunning backdrop and a stunning lady, fab day all round. A place and day I will always take myself to in times of strife and reflection.
Ok so living with poppy is an ongoing challenge, in the fact that you can not ever ever EVER really take your eyes off her. Is this possible, of course not. It’s physically impossible to spend all day watching and interacting with a two year old. They are a complete law to themselves.
I love my time with poppy and embrace it as every good dad should. I love the time I spend rolling a ball across the floor to her, and her joy at chasing that ball, and her considered concentration at trying to roll that ball back to me. I love her attempts to copy my hand movement that mirrors mine whilst trying to catch the ball. I am rewarded in her response to me as her guardian and teacher. I revel in the interaction of simple tasks, and it reminds me of the simple joys in life that we so easily forget as we grow older, wiser and more boring! I love hearing her spell out the word “Nike” on my T shirt in her garbled toddler talk, which are clearly the very beginnings of her understanding of the English language. I strive to second guess her understanding, looking for some kind of common ground that will help her understand better.
As an instructor in the prison service I always looked for ways to better help get the message I was employed to convey, to sink into the minds of some often very blank looking faces. The message was of course very serious but if the recipient isn’t on your wave length than your wasting your time. “You can lead a horse to water and all that”. Again the message here is serious but my audience in poppy has just barely less attention span of my officers in the service. So the pressure is greatly increased. This added to the fact that she can’t demonstrate what she has learnt also makes it tricky to move forward. Then of course, within seconds she is picking up the first thing to hand and throwing it across the room, or at you, or indeed just picking her nose. In fact the similarity to teaching in the service are blinding, actually.
So what I’m saying is that at some point I just have to leave her, and fold some washing or put the tea in the oven or wash some pots or wee. The list is endless, I got a house to run.
Of course we have minimised the danger in the room she is locked into, mainly out of trial and error and necessity. You know, replacing and finding the battery’s and cover on the remote control gets boring until you find a place to put it, that truly is safe. This often, being more and more increasingly higher and more ingenious, as over time she works out like an episode of mission impossible just how to stack various items of furniture up so that she can reach it. Or how many times you can take a biro off her, after she’s has drawn over the white walls, before you do a full interior search of the room to remove all such ink based contraband. ( I have never succeeded in finding all the biros ) The top of the microwave in the kitchen, which is considered level 5 secure at the moment, is full of them. Yet still, I often get handed one reluctantly when I enter back into the living room! How is this possible?
Today however whilst cooking her tea there followed a period of silence unnoticed at first which of course is the way. I think it’s your body’s way of just enjoying itself before reluctantly it allows that nagging grey cell that’s been banging on the door into your brain. All of a sudden you realise she has been quiet and that means trouble, with a capital “oh shit”. I enter the secure living room and the picture above is what I was confronted with. In a moment I am transported back to childhood horror films where a small child talks to a snowy TV set in a darkened room. Has she really placed all the various candles in the living room on a perfect line? Early OCD signs or possessed, you decide.
Ok I need to step up here and post every day, even if it’s just a little bit here and there, I need to get into the habit of writing. I’ll never get my book written if I can’t keep a little blog like this going. I can’t believe it’s been since sept since I last put blog to print. Xmas, a two year old and a part time job have ruled my life since September and foolishly I’ve not taken time out for myself. In fact, because of a whining, moaning, shouting, screaming little girl ( who I do love of course ) I’ve not been able to take any time out for myself. If I’m not with poppy I’m generally working, trying to get a very good business I work for, off the ground and into the big leagues. I rarely sleep past half five in the morning and that alone is enough to make any grown man cry. Any way I must not complain, it’s not good for my Karma. ( but still )
So I’ll try to add something every day even if it’s just a quick post. Hoping that I will get some space to put pen to paper and make sense of my service days enough to get some blogging material out of them.
I would like to do a post about the depression that sits with me nearly every day, and try and make sense of why me, and how I’m coping or not coping as the case may be without medication or “drugs”. I try and live every day with out looking towards the next, but trust me that’s hard when you feel that your life is on hold waiting for children to grow up. This of course conflicts with my desire to love every min, but damn it’s hard.
So here it goes, a blog every day. I can do it!
So, its been a few days now of no Tramadol at all and its killing me. I’m writing this as I wasn’t told of just how bad it was going to be coming of this tiny little pill. I was on a lot as well. I was taking up to 15 – 20 a day at my worst, far more than I should have been taking, but when your the size of a tank like me and in extreme pain you’ll do anything. I had built up a tolerance to the drug over time and it just wasn’t working so I had to just keep taking more and more. I took as many as I dare to without tripping a seizure. Must have been on them well over a year and a half. So they worked fine, I didn’t get high on them other than in the first week, I was never addicted to the side affects only the fact that they stopped the pain. Of course the longer you take them for the harder it is to stop.
Its taken me months and months of slowly reducing my dose in order to get where I am this week. Months of taking just one pill less and then clucking for a week till its out the system. Its been a few days of none now and I’m cracking up, I started to think perhaps something else was going on but a quick search of the net shows me I may have another two to three weeks of this till its over.
Restless legs syndrome is the worst thing about it. The spasm builds for ages before snapping a leg like an electric shock has been fired through it. You try and stop the spasm when you feel it building so already you start to move you leg consciously before the big uncontrollable movement kicks in. Body aches like mad, chills, sweats, arms feel like they are on fire, not just a feeling, actually feel like they are on fire. I’m reminded of the cold turkey scene in train-spotting, minus the baby! I’m trying to just ignore it and pretend its not happening. The longer it goes on of course the harder that is. All things considered I’d like to think that most people won’t even realise what’s going on with me as the more distracted I am the better it is.
So if your put on it for whatever then sure, use it if its better than the pain your in but please please remember to maybe stop for a few days every week in order to prevent the horrendous come down, <— not sure if this works, or no matter how much you feel you need don’t take more than prescribed. Just except that they are working and you would be worse off with out them. *twitch twitch spasm . . . . . arrrrggghhhhhhh!!