Monday, July 21, 2014

I went to get my annual boob check done today. I really love my doctor, she's just a sweet lady. Well, not just, she's many other things as well, but she's quite learned about breast cancer and she's American and I love her manner. Last time I saw her she told me my cervix was awesome (you may remember I reported that). This time she told me my breasts were perfect, which is a hilarious thing to say, but what she means is, there's nothing wrong with 'em.

The other thing she said was that our local(ish) hospital is finally starting to do some cutting edge breast cancer detection development, including thermogram options, which makes me feel very happy. She suggested mammograms from 40 onwards, which sounds good in terms of checking, but I have read too much about the possible negative effects of mammograms not to feel deeply stressed about the prospect. Thusly, I am delighted to hear there will be options.

You know what, though, I may have blogged about this years ago, but most of you probably weren't here so I'll do it again - some years ago, after I stopped breastfeeding my daughter (so, like, jesus, 9 or so years ago) one of my nipples started inverting, and I got sent for a sonogram scan. I got to the scan unit, and there was a bank of chairs in the middle of the reception area where I waited with lots of other people for a long time. Lots of general patients were hanging around and passing through too, it seemed.

Finally they sent me to a changing room to take off my top and bra, and put on the stanadard hospital gown. Then the told me to sit and wait in the very public reception again. Now, if I had wonderful peneumatic boobs, this might not have bothered me so much, but I really don't like to be in public bra-less unless I'm in a swimming pool. Y'know. Those gowns don't do much to make you feel less naked, much less in a very public place. Finally I was led through to the scan room - where I could have taken off my relevant clothes in about three seconds. I was so unimpressed. Do they just want patients cowed and demoralised before they go in to see the doctor? Next time, next time I'll decline the gown offer.  

Sunday, July 13, 2014

my unsolicited opinion on football

Well... part of me wonders why a handful of very fit men running around after a ball and displaying considerable ball and athletic skills has to be such a very, very, very big deal. It's such a manly man man's world, the world cup, look at all those rich men running around making drama out of running around, generating inexplicable billions of dollars, and finding excuses to fondle and embrace each other.

Another part of me buys into it - the fitness, the youth, the desperate team endeavour, the sweat, tears and hair gel. The heroics of it. Well, in a World Cup, at least, the rest of the year leaves me unmoved at best, bored, more likely.

I loved Russel Brand's take on the match after that match, though:
After last night I can only enjoy football matches where a nation is forced to reexamine its entire identity and way of life

Meh. I have some Argentinians in my class tomorrow, I wonder how they'll be doing.

I'll be interested to see how the Women's World Cup goes next year, in Canada. Axl said he watched it last time, and it was good, just slower. I suspect I won't enjoy it as much, because the consolation prize of the World Cup for non-fans is the sweaty, teary, homo-erotic drama of it all, as I've said already. I'm not sure women injuring and consoling each other will hold the same thrall for me. 

Friday, July 11, 2014

You know those days when you're too tired to really deal with people much? I must push myself to bed earlier. It means working in the afternoons, when I'm too tired... oh god, I forgot to phone the Tax Office AGAIN. Yeesh. 


I want to nap. Olivia is looking for a friend to be social with, which is a good sign, but the notice is too short, and nothing is happening. She wants her friend Luke from school to come over. Luke is on the spectrum and can be a little ... taxing to deal with, much as my daughter can. Well, no, not in the same way. He's very cheerful. 

His mother though... also a certain kind of person, and right now I'm not feeling social. An evil, nap-questing part of me hopes they can't come. 

My veins are getting horrible visible. Blue veins, purple thread veins. Bruises, on my legs, all the time. I suppose I can relax until they start getting lumpy. I am ageing, suddenly, just as the children are sprouting. Bodhi comes half way up my boob now, though I must accept that my boobs are dropping down to reach him at the same time. Still, no osteoparosis yet, so I think it's a pretty clear marker of how tall he's getting. 

The price of texting people and not having to talk to them is them not texting back, so you're left hanging and you can't go sleep the daytime sleep of the guilty. 

Sunday, July 6, 2014

room to breathe

Tidied my room a bit today. Not finished yet, as the dust is so bad it's doing my chest in. I'm all wheeze and inflamation and pressure and irritated throat, now. And also, finishing things up before bed is of course just not how I roll. But I will finish it - when Axl moved downstairs, I loved the idea of an oasis just for me in my room, but instead it became a sort of junk repository for the family and a monument to my depression. I've tidied a few times but never got things really sorted. Hopefully this time is the time.

Then, on to the kitchen! 

Thursday, July 3, 2014

the crepes are turning out perfectly, filling the pan, paper-thin and perfectly browning, speckled and bubbled like planets. 

Monday, June 30, 2014

I'm living in a bit of a sea of social anxiety at the moment. My period's just arriving, I left it a few days late to get my Pills, I suppose these things don't help. The problem with whatever dyspraxic sort of thing I suffer from, though, is, you know you're getting it wrong, but you don't know how to stop. And sometimes the worrying about getting it wrong and not irritating people becomes the irritating thing in itself, but you're so worried about getting irritating people ...

It's exhausting.

I complain all the time.

I get narky with the kids and I can't stop.

Sometimes our house is an endless round of stress and nastiness and I fear it all stems from me.

Sometimes I wish I could just not talk to anyone at all.

My head hurts. I think because I left my prescription late.

Noise is hard to deal with at the moment.

I'm dreading the logistics of getting to the funeral tomorrow. I wanted to write something, but I didn't. And my father didn't ask me to read anything anyway. And maybe these aren't the people I should be sharing my writing with. I should just write it here instead.

Sometimes when I'm talking to you, I'm babbling on and on but I'm actually lost - I don't really know what I'm saying, or how to just ... stop. It's disconcerting. I don't know how to people, sometimes.

Saturday, June 28, 2014

I'm starting to feel normal again

I took Bodhi to Kilruddery to play Nerfwars with his friends after the last day of school - his dad showed zero interest as he was recovering from day out with his brother and sleeping off the hangover. We got there about three hours after everyone else, but the kids were still running around. He played with a couple friends, including Shen, who is Vietnamese, and incredibly cute, and also ruthless - she was wearing a flowing pink skirt and tie-die shirt and hairscarf ensemble, and when she tucked her hair back I secretly checked to see if she had pointy ears, she's so elfin-cute. She also shoots her friends at point blank range, often in the butt, too. It was like mini-Hunger Games.

As we were leaving I spotted a text from my father from 15 mins before saying 'She is gone'. He didn't text my brother. I texted asking if I should go out to the home, and he said, no, I could if I wanted to see her but he'd left already.

I felt totally at a loss, unsure of what to do. I really wanted to be with some part of my family and share in a bit of company. He's not the best ... patriarch. I'm glad I went out there anyway, though, as Do's carer was there, with her, alone in her room in the nursing home. She was happy to see me, and said, like me, that she didn't know what to do with herself. She said that she'd decided that she'd brought her there, so she'd see her out the door as well. So we waited for the undertaker together, and talked, and it was nice. My grandmother seemed so very not quite dead, it was as if she was still breathing. I think it takes people longer to go than we think, it's important to sit with a body, they're still there. I remember the same with my mother, the sense of panic when the undertaker came too soon to take away her body. It felt all wrong, but what can you do? I have no idea how people let go their children, when they die, but I think the professionals are very good about giving them  as much time as they need.

Angela told me about her sweet and peaceful death. I took the aged patchwork cushion from her chair. Last night I was so very tired, so very exhausted - I asked my brother and his girlfriend to come over because I craved the company so much, but they got here quite late, and Olivia was chatting incessantly in her ASD way, and loudly, and my undiagnosed ASD brother was sitting beside her, also chatting loudly, and it was a bit of an onslaught. My exhausted head just couldn't quite take it. Bodhi got nauseous, and needed to get sick, so in the end I had to go tend to him. Luckily, he got better after just once puke, and Axl even came home early from his gig and looked after him - wow. I struggled to bed before 12 for the first time in a fortnight, with the body pillow I'd just bought in Lidl, and fell into a sleep after about three seconds. Nine hours!

This morning I've had coffee with cream, scrambled eggs, beans and toast, and those Pain au Chocolates you make out of a cardboard tube, you roll the chocolate sticks up into them, they were great! And a second coffee! I'm starting to feel more normal again after all that.

I'm meant to be taking Olivia to the shopping centre to buy her a black dress and shoes (and visit the comic shop) but her legs are agonisingly painful and she can't walk and she can't go and Bodhi has to stop singing, she can hear him all over the house and he does it all the time and she  can't stand it!!! etc. So, eh, yeah. Maybe not. It would be a good day to go, though, as it's pride day, and 40,000 people are heading to Dublin, and the shopping centre might be a bit less crowded. 

Sunday, June 22, 2014

My grandmother had another stroke this morning, a big one. The doctor gives her hours or days... she's been unconscious all day, her breathing stopping and starting. I hope, that this is it, that she won't wake up and be frightened and confused. She's very peaceful now, I hope it stays that way. She has been alive almost 97 years, it's time for her to rest.

I'm sad, in a way all the same. As her niece said, it feels unreal, her imminent death, in this unusual blue-skyed heat. I know just what she means. She has been a fixture in my life. A constant - she has always been there. She has been here for 97 years. It's amazing, really. I think it is her time to go, it may have been long ago... I want her to be unafraid and trusting. I want her to let go.

The minister was called - I thought he might do last rites, or is that only Catholic? Excuse my ignorance. I thought my granny might wake up and tell him to get out of it, but apparently she's asked him to pray the last couple times he visited. I like him, I must say, a kind, country man. Good at sympathy and communication, generous, and seeming to take his job seriously.

He put his hand on her cheek, and leaned in, and in a strong and gentle voice, said The Lord Is My Shepherd. It was surprisingly beautiful, and emotional. My mother's favourite hymn, that I included in my wedding ceremony for her and which her brother the sculptor made a beautiful illustration of, all in greens and yellows and blues, waves like hills and the sea. I'll get a photo of it for you if I can, it hasn't made its way onto the internet yet, unlike the public art. Maybe because it's in my father's house, I suppose! 

Saturday, June 21, 2014

morning; longest day of the year

I woke up happy, today. Well... not exactly. Long dreams and too many whirling thoughts til I had to wake up and get up - but then there was yet more sunshine, and yesterday I made Guinness and Bailey's cupcakes for my students and colleagues, which everyone loved. So I had one for breakfast, in my sunny bed, with coffee - and I had an-almost swim yesterday (not all the way in because it was just too stony, but the temperature was surprisingly manageable) and this morning the feeling of peace and cleansedness in my skin and bones was still lingering and it all felt very good.

Olivia conspires to burst my bubble, with repeated complaints and aggression and insults when I fail to sympathise with her nasty bullshit about everything she hates about her little world. Don't get me wrong, I have sympathy for her mindset and her condition and how hard she makes everything for herself, but, at it's simplest level, she's being a bitch and harshing everyone else's attempts to just get on and enjoy themselves a little bit, and I've kind of reached the end of my tether with it. Shrug* This 'idiot and jerk' has had enough of the high-volumed abuse for one week.

Anyway, aside from that, today I make a strawberry cake for my friend Anne, whose anniversary she shares with my own ex-anniversary - today is Midsummer's Eve, which seemed like a perfect day to get married, and was for her - so I have a use for the giant box of strawberries in my fridge (that only cost €5.99, reminding me of the time I shocked Danielle with the confession that I'd paid a fiver for a box of strawberries, which he wrote on his blog as a 'box of zombies' in some strange unconscious moment, and always makes me laugh).

So - my day is cake, and cleaning, and the fervent hope that my children (read ASD daughter) will allow me to enjoy the party tonight. Fingers crossed!

Tuesday, June 17, 2014

Ooo, oo weird, I just had a piece of Lindt Creme Brulee chocolate, as it was only 1.50 in Tesco today, and I was saving all the little bitty bits inside til the end to bite down on one by one, as you do, and I bit down on the last one, and it was not what I thought it was, it was a little bit of pepper lurking around after the salad I had for dinner, and now my mouth is all aflame and I feel weird because it was so unexpected.