weekus fucking awfulus

yes that was my limited attempt at latin. seeing as the queen had a horrible anus ( it's a play on words i'm sure her behind is genuinely wonderful for one so senior ) i thought that i would just have a very shitty week.
enough of the insomniac filled explaination of a title and on the the main event.

a week and a half ago the fluffy one was sent to the hospital by our local gp. he had spent the weekend vomiting like the exorcist and had a painful stomach, so after some prodding from the doctor, tears from fluffy and a bit of there there never mind from me we were referred to the hospital. the doc thought it was a possible appendix and had spoken to the surgical people so off we went. luckily i live quite close to the hospital so after a quick pit stop to pick up teddy and some books we , fluffy , adulf and i went on our ,merry way.

we were seen fairly quickly which is a good thing as adulf gets a little on the parent from hell side when he is kept waiting.. blood was taken, pain killers were given and fluffy was very brave about the whole thing. when the surgical team came down, he was able without much prompting to tell them what hurt and how long it had hurt for. i was impressed for a small fluffy eleven year old he was very descriptive about the whole thing. they thought it was probably an appendix and so admitted him for further observation.

it was now way past lunch time, no one had eaten ( good thing for fluffy not so good for me ) when we got to the childrens ward. one thing i have to say about the whole experience all the staff that we saw were really really friendly and spent the time talking to el fluffo about everything. being dyslexic the fluffy one has a lot of problems retaining information so the same question gets asked over and over again. usually at home it's a case of groan bang head repeatedly against wall and in extreme cases hide in the toilet until he has forgotten what he was going to ask. not this time, this time repeated questions were encouraged so fluffy talked to everyone. when i say everyone i mean absolutely everyone from the cleaning staff upwards.
he seemed quite bright and then suddenly the pain medication stopped working, he said he could feel his side throbbing. a nurse was called and in turn she beeped the surgeon who came down and had another look.suddenly fluffy was put into a gown and at eight o'clock on monday the 17th of june he had his appendix removed.

i stayed with him that night on a camp bed thingy. at one in the morning he tried to get out of bed complained loudly about the blood pressure sleeve on his arm refused to pee in a bottle and then went back to sleep again. to this day he can't remember that. adulf turned up at ten the next morning to take over and i went home.

i came home to find an over flowing bin a poo filled cat tray dirty washing up and the resident male in bed. i cleaned the tray , washed up, stripped fluffy's bed and put the bedding in the wash and had a shower. having decided that there was no way adulf would cope with the camp bed , my daughter stayed the next night with him. he came home on the wednesday evening and has been slowly recovering since.

it's not easy having a child that loves sport and cant go near anything vaugely sporty for at least a month and who is getting stir crazy and very very annoying but i manage. the main thing is he is ok now well as ok as you can be when your small blonde and a bit fluffy round the edges.

ode to wapspar

on tuesday evening while parked on the sofa i had a phone call. My daughter rang to tell me that the mother ships oldest cat had passed away. He was a black and white cat called Jasper and had lived to the grand old age of 21. For those without a calculator that works out to around the hundered mark in human years.

Without any hesitation i called a cab and went straight over there. Jasper was one of a kind. He would climb onto your left shoulder and snuggle into your neck, dribbling into your neck and refuse to move. She had rescued him nearly twelve years ago and for the first six months he didn't purr. But with love and a stable home he soon flourished.

Everyone loved Jasper or wapspar as he came to be known. He didnt care if you liked cats or not if you sat still long enough that lap was his. if any visitors had come by car he would follow them and try to get into the car.

I'm glad i got to say goodbye. He was a beautiful creature, gentle , loving , a bit dribbly.
I'll miss him.

shit happens it's just not that interesting

so been a while . the world keeps turning and i'm still here  .

You know that moment when you have nothing beyond what your having for dinner to say ? well that has been me. when it gets to the point when even a fart joke isnt funny anymore it's time to take a back seat and that is what i have been doing. That and discovering my inner knitting nanna. Yes you heard correctly i have been sitting clicking needles with great abandon and creating blankets, five in total so far if you count the one i am doing now.

and then there are the usual cats shedding hair like the world is about to end. every so often a little  bundle of dusttridden cat fur float past like those texas tumbleweeds.

and there is always fluffy who is more mouthy less fluffy now he is in high school. his room has been moved round three times already in an effort to keep it tidy. so far nothing has worked and it still smells like arse and feet.

so in conclusion i'm fine its just the rest of them but then we always knew that . when i say fine i mean boring covered in wool and cat hair and with not much to say, this may change.

the black dog of pants

i hate my dog more of a cat person you see. it's a horrible big dark thing that cloaks me from day to day. some days the cloak gets lighter, but recently it's almost suffocating me. so instead of trying to ignore it and all it's wonderful symptoms, the tears that i hide, the anger that i can't hide, the seeing things that aren't there ect ect i have had to grudgingly go back to my medication.
enter the side effects, blinding headache, wanting to vomit and dizzy spells which are oh so fun. it's also effecting my sleep in as much as i am not really getting much of it. good old restless leg syndrome is really kicking my arse at the moment. so at night my eyes are closed my body is screaming for rest and my legs and arms are having a party that the rest of me isn't invited to.
i hate it it's frustrating that i have things in the fridge that need to be cooked and probably won't be, so will go to waste. i can't stand up for more than a few moments without feeling like i want to throw up and or pass out. in the back of my mind i have a person with a clip board telling me i have to do this this and this and i havent done any of it at all. i have about another half a week of side effects before hopefully i start feeling ok. well not sick any more ok isn't something i am very good at feeling at the best of times. but as long as the brain deadness goes and i have some energy at the end of it that will do. 

the blog that makes no sense

do you ever get the feeling that your swinging from the ceiling and your pants they are revealing and this blog it makes no sense. my mind i fear has left me bereft with a bowl of shreddies no milk the fridge is empty and this blog makes no sense. these random things are streaming from a mind that is revealing while some kittens are appealing and this blog just makes no sense.
it's not poetry or creative, a tad desperate in its narrative. there is no hidden meaning it's a blog post that makes no sense.
i think my mind has broken, it is oozing little tokens from the cracks that have just opened and this blog makes no more sense.
i think i may be ill, is it time to take a pill? before sanity takes a spill in a blog that makes no sense.
depressed not dead and no my names not fred maybe i should go to bed and pull the duvet over my head and forget the things i said in the blog that makes no sense.

saying bum with a smile

Just a thought a very small thought as i have only ingested two cups of tea. I have been reading a lot of blogs quietly, thoughtfully sometimes i nod and agree, sometimes i pull a bit of a face or wipe a wet eye and wish people knew just how brave they were.
Anyway not sure what the point of this post is, but yesterday i had a good day. It was productive, things got done i ventured out and didn't have a spaz about it and the sun was out.
Now having a good day could be seen to some as just a good day, a reason to smile. When you suffer from any form of a mental illness a good day is like skipping bare foot through a field of poppies and not worrying about cow pats or hayfever. It's like climbing a mountain naked and standing at the top wiggling your lumpy bits and shouting to the world " Up your bum world today is a good day."
When your life is a revolving door of angst and emotions hit you like a tsunami and everything is raw good days are worth celebrating.
It doesn't mean your cured, it just means you had some breathing space. It doesn't mean that maybe your not ill maybe your faking it, your not.
So don't over think them, try and enjoy them for what they are. They are your little triumphs to be enjoyed. As they say a pat on the back is better than a smack round the head, well they don't i just did.
I don't do life affirming stuff but wouldn't it be fun just to stand in front of a mirror not to pull yourself a part and just say bum with a smile. You never know it might work.

and thus the pants have spoken

feeling guilty

i am feeling a little out of sorts. Tonight i have seen entries in two different blogs that have prompted my brain to turn in on itself and ask the question

Why can some people write so eloquently about how they feel in an honest fashion where as i have to put a little hint of oh well life's not so bad on my things ?
I can drop little hints now and again, but then a voice inside coughs and says quietly " Don't harp on dear. No one wants to hear it."
So then we are back to cat poo. Cat poo is fast becoming a safety word. If things seem a little bit too uncomfortable CAT POO . I need to say how i am actually feeling CAT POO. i am about to be too honest about things CAT POO.
bloody cat poo.

truth is i haven't left the house since monday's journey from hell, where the only way i could stop a full blown no holds barred panic attack was to scratch three layers of skin from my left hand. The closest i have come to venturing out is standing at the backdoor. But i have to go out tomorrow and it's weighing heavy on my mind.
I don't like being me. I don't like what i have become and if i could turn back to clock to even as little as two years ago i would in a heart beat.
i see things moving dark shapes that i know aren't there. They don't scare me what does is that fact that seeing things that aren't there doesn't scare me.
no body knows this, i am a master in hiding things from everyone. They just think i am extra grumpy and snappy.
 anyway like the little voice inside my head says ( or rather screams in this case ) you don't need to know this. there are so many more people who are a lot worse than i am.

CAT POO. CAT POO. CAT POO.