Categories
Post

My breathing is rubbish…

Yesterday, when I went to water the garden, my breathing deteriorated quite a bit. When I came in, I felt I was suffocating – I literally could not get air in. It is terrifying, as the feeling is so visceral. So overwhelming. It is not like energy being sapped away.

My body fights to get air in. I can’t stop it. My lungs crave air. So now, I am loathe to do anything. Any exertion seems to result in suffocation.

No appointment from Southampton as yet.

Categories
Post

Paramedics yesterday…

This meme is for amusement only. I don’t drink every day. Far from it.

Yesterday I awakened feeling pretty good. I was writing and communicating with my lead at SWASFT. I cannot say how wonderful these people are.

I gradually realised my chest was heavy. I went downstairs to open my post. After a package proved challenging, I found I could not breathe.

Paramedics, who were so much fun, fixed me. I felt alive again. One finished opening my package, took out my recycling, and made me a cup of tea. I am required to have a drink after nebulsation. It affects the mouth and throat.

I carried on after that with a smile in my heart.

I found the evening very tiring. The Subutamol had left me wired. And exhausted. I went to bed earlier than normal. I am up early and the birds are beginning to sing.

Categories
Post

Paramedics yet again…

This morning a friend messaged me to say he was in town and would take a look at my phone, which since I put it into a Snakehive case, has been showing a screen that I don’t want. I could get rid of the screen, but it annoyed me a lot.

I wanted him to come to my home, but know he’s always pressed for time, so I went to him. It is bitterly cold, and by the time I got home I was not able to breathe. The cold air had completely altered everything. I dialled 999, frightened that I would pass out before anyone put me through. Then, one gasps out what is needed, one’s birthdate etc annd then they go through a list of questions about Covid-19. They don’t accept one saying you don’t have it. You have to answer each question.

This takes five minutes. I was so afraid that I would be unconscious in my bedroom. I lay gasping and then I heard a siren. I crawled to the top of the stairs and waited. They parked and came in and restored me.

They aren’t happy about the Covid questions either.

Categories
Post

Lung physio…

No, it is not what you think. No one is thumping my back with cupped hands to loosen phlegm. I wish someone was.

I acquired a contraption that is like a whistle but much bigger. I blow into it and a ball lifts and vibrates. It is the vibration that I inhale that loosens phlegm. The only problem is that I am unable to cough it away.

The thing is though, my breathing has improved. At the same time though, I have started drinking ginger, turmeric, honey, and lemon as a tea. I feel this helps too. They are all decogestants. I didn’t think to start them at different times as I’m a bear of little brain. I’m just happy that my breathing is improved.

Tomorrow, I have a zoom meeting with my boss to be at SWASFT. Another phoned me earlier today to reassure me that messages with links to other articles are the products of the unintelligent. He didn’t say it quite that way though…

Categories
Post

Please click on ‘like’ as I know you’ve looked, and the rugby…

WordPressers are visiting and not all are clicking the ‘like’. It would mean a lot to me if you did…

I just watched Ireland beat Scotland very convincingly. They were playing at Lansdowne Road, where Scotland have not won for a decade. England is the most recent visitor to win there.

If Ireland could just find it themselves mentally to win in Paris, they would be truly phenomemal.

I felt sorry for Peter Mahony, who put the ball down just on the wrong side of the try line.

I had a better day yesterday, until I went to bed and then I thought death was inniment. I eventually fell asleep and woke feeling much better.

My boiler fails every day. I am fed up completely. On Monday, I will insist that it is replaced.

Friends helped me plant a dwarf cherry tree yesterday. It arrived long after I had bought it and needed to get it in soil.

The stormy rain last night fitted my physical state. But I was warm and dry, and though alone, not lonely.

Categories
Post

Headache…

This super yacht appeared yesterday. It’s tiny in comparison to the $1billion one moored alongside further down west, and a snap at £35million. Why not have two? On this one your less likely to lose your companions for as long.

It is unattractive, being grey which must absorb a lot of heat unless it is insulted. Oh silly me, of course it’s insulated.

Too big for a berth it’s moored alongside the Quay unless they’ve moved it. I’m glad money doesn’t buy happiness.

I had a shock when paramedics turned up. I thought it was my yodel courier who is very pleasant. I shouted to hang on a sec and bent to pick up my mail. The door opened and I had to put a hand out to stop myself being knocked out and my head crushed against the wall.

I thought maybe they’d come for a cup of tea, but no someone had phoned in that I was suicidal. I’m stunned but drawing no conclusions.

I’ve had trolls on Instagram, and on facebook, as well as on a community website. I know who that is.

It isn’t clever. They give themselves away so easily.

My head aches. The last symptom of the missed med las night. I’m otherwise OK now. I did allow two new comments on post, but they got argumentative so I trashed comments. I really don’t need billigerence on my blog. Ok, how do you spell that that word?

My daughter came this morning with a fresh supply of my med. And made me brunch. She’s coming again to make dinner. She bought me some lovely tea towels because she has needed to mop stuff up. She knows I hate paper towels as they use up trees.

One good thing is that my ankle was bandaged to give it support by one of the paramedics. I shower everyday, so that may become a problem but I have a lovely stool in my bathroom so I can put that into the shower and stick my foot out.

My breathing was ragged earlier but better now. My phone tells me it’s raining, but it isn’t although there are grey clouds.

Categories
Post

Only if you’re incredibly kind or stupid…

…do you get mentioned here.

The one exception is Michael who is both kind and stupid because he thinks the malice from that woman ended when she left.

That’s in the past he said to me last March. And I thought yes it should be but for some weird reason my new neighbours were hostile by then. I thought the lies told by W were being gossiped by Quay Living.

No, that was too obvious.

I’m no good with malice. I’ve only ever attempted to have a therapeutic relationship with someone in my care.

He was flown home to Australia instead of being turned over to the police. He would have been in jail a long time. But considering the crime, he’s probably in jail in Australia anyway. That was wrong of my bosses and part of the reason I left.

I cannot think like a malicious person. It never occurs to me, the things they do.

I just went to get anti-histamine to try to reduce my swelling. Sometimes histamine over reacts and swelling remains. Another chemical is involved too, I can’t think of it’s name.

I have run cold water over my foot. It is so bruised and painful. The trip to the shop has caused my breathing to deteriorate. I thought for five minutes I would have to call an ambulance. Again.

I don’t recognise my life. But then, it’s been unrecognisable since last December 27 when 12kg of kindling from Amazon came over the fence.

When I told Mike he said that she was concentrating on getting well.

Kind and stupid.

Categories
Post

The storm never arrived and has gone away…

So the storm sat outside the harbour and left. My handyman fitted the outdoor tap and watered the garden for me, took the recycling out and made me a cup of tea.

He’s not just multi talented, he’s Pete Lambert.

My daughter came and made dinner, then she washed up and then she finished the first coat of paint on the second gate. She tidied my towels and generally was great as usual.

She’s not just a daughter. She’s my daughter.

So I found a photo of an old friend and me at a rehearsal dinner in Richmond, Virginia. I put it on a shelf and found it was moving away from me. Just as I realised I was falling, I whacked my back on the footpost of my bed and then landed already in pain, and more pain on landing. I was winded. Which is frightening. I was once with someone who was winded after falling of those bridges that are slats on a single rope. You have to move fast. I knelt beside him saying Breathe calmly but firmly and it helped him, he told me.

I was on my own as my daughter was in the garden painting and I didn’t know she was there. I ended up fighting to get air in, and managed to pull myself up to kneeling. My back felt numb, but finally air got in my lungs very painfully and then I was hyperventilating.

The rush of oxygen to my brain was freaky and made me nauseas. The nausea was overwhelming. I pulled myself up and onto the bed and found my cell and called my daughter. I heard it downstairs and could work out why she didn’t come.

I tried to do all the right things to slow my breathing. The nausea was so powerful. Then I started wheezing so got my pink inhaler which was the first revolution in improving my breathing. And I still feel gratitude to Michael for lending me his once and that got me onto the best inhaler.

It’s ok. He used mine too. And had to come round once because I had run out and was waiting for an ambulance. I took the puffs I needed and his voice is always calming, except when he wants to be unkind which really doesn’t suit him because he is kind.

Any way an ambulance came and they weren’t NHS. No difference in quality but it’s not right.

She checked my back and confirmed I’d probably winded myself and confirmed all I’ve written above. She was full of vivacity and distracted me in a rather lively way, which was different. But really ok. She said a rib might be bruised or cracked. I’m going to be in pain tomorrow.

I’ve taken a painkiller. She wouldn’t drop a vial of morphine on the pavement. Meany. So I’m having a smidge of gin and bitter lemon to synergise with it.

A friend’s dog died. She is in bits, and reaching out to her has caused me to start sobbing about O’Driscoll.

And today I wrote an article about how I was not damaged by my narcissist mother by being handed to my grandmother because I would not feed from my mother.

How my sister, being older was already damaged, but my identity was formed in good nurturing during the first five years of my life.

I will post it here soon. It is elsewhere for the time being. And I am not allowed to post it elsewhere for a certain time. Different publishers have different policies.

I am ok. If I think people will worry I can’t write here.

Categories
Post

A hospital appointment that exhausted me and still no help…

This morning I went to the respiratory clinic to have tests done to find out how my ineffecient my lungs are and what gases are left in my blood.

The technician was so sweet. She warned me I would get tired and I should say when I had enough.

The first thing was to take blood from my ear. Yes. My ear. This is done by warming the ear with hot water, so scientific, and getting enough blood onto a card in a machine within a minute. After a minute the machine resets and they have to start again.

So, both my ears donated blood, the second after a third technician came to help (a trainee was there). By the time they were done I was claustrophobic and over-stimulated by the lights and discussion. I was so aware of my introvert preference.

Then I had to breathe into a tube. Normal breathes, big breathes out. It was exhausting. Then I was taken to a bigger room and did more forced breaths into a different machine.

My arms were tingling, and I wanted to cry.

I’ve been given a contraption to wear on my finger and wrist to wear tonight and tomorrow night. I have to return it on Sunday or Monday and I so don’t want to.

I got some shopping and there was no toilet tissue in the town centre. Panic buying due to Corovid19.

I want to sit on my Dad’s lap. I want Mike as he was during our relationship when he lived next door. I want his hug and conversation.

I had got home when my daughter sent a text accusing me of something I don’t know how to do.

I’ve been wishing she wasn’t born because I think there’s a good chance I might be still married to the man I married. My daughter highlighted our differences. He undermined me, gaslighted me as a mother.

But this is my life and I must accept it.

I’ve been writing on medium.com but realise that the 12-20people who made it a metred pay wall are those who benefit the most.

My royalties were disappointing, but not to be sneezed at.

I am so weary. I could weep.

Categories
Post

A good Tuesday…

It’s been a good day. Everything has been easy, no breathless whatsoever. I’ve been writing, reading, I ordered a water lily and snails for my tiny pond. I’ve continued to play a couple of games of scrabble, as a mind boost, I also do a small quiz each day for a mind boost.

I’m taking part in some research on touch, which I heard about through Radio 4. It’s interesting. I often take part in reach.

The nerve in my thigh started to ache again. Heat helped, with a painkiller and I will be in bed shortly.

The weather is very cold and sunny, which is what I love, but I’ve been content to watch the harbour and sunrise mainly from my window.

It seems I’m now in charge of the campaign to save our hospital. I didn’t want to be but that’s how it’s worked out… so that’s more work to do.