Once something is decided in our house these days we tend to treat it as fact from that point onwards and don't spend any more time discussing it. My squirrel like attention span means I have already moved on to the next thought or maybe I'm just admiring the way the light is catching the trees, maybe the gerbils are having a little scrabble and I'm listening in, either way you get the picture the fact is I move on extremely quickly and the family are catching onto that practice too and embracing it it seems.
Sometimes though our speedy decision making can leave a story untold and some slightly bemused faces in our wake as they aren't too sure what they missed, ' should we ask?' I expect they are wondering.
Youngest beloved daughter came home from school earlier this year when head pop effects were beginning to ease a tiny bit and announced that she wanted to change her name. She explained that there were lots of other wonderful girls at school with the same name which meant that she was called by her full name, Christian and surname by everyone, all of the time. I could see how that would be annoying. "Great, fabulous idea" I agreed. Actually I was super proud this eight year old had the confidence and thought to come up with it. By the time hubby got home from work it was fait accompli in my mind and he was wondering why we kept saying 'bell' all the time. Next stop was a letter to school and it was job done.
Thing is we had her birthday party this weekend and it suddenly hit home that actually I hadn't done a particularly good job at communicating the change to everyone who should know. School friends, yey ! Grandad. Oops. Auntie. Oops. Implementation successful. Communication rubbish! Her birthday cards bear this out, you would think I had twins living in the house, that or a bipolar. As for my Facebook account, friends must be thinking 'why is she calling her daughter by a different name.... ' Those of you who know what I used to do of a living will be laughing themselves silly but it was actually very liberating to just make the change and move on but it's another little reminder that my head thinks and just does stuff a little differently to the head I previously knew. I just presumed everyone must know. Interesting stuff.
So the daughter formerly known as Izzy is now just Bel. Just so you know.
Tuesday, 19 November 2013
Monday, 21 October 2013
Samual Pepys I ain't
I am not sure that I have any more right to write about my experience than anyone else but almost immediately since surviving my Sub Arachnoid Haemorrhage and it's subsequent life changing effects came a need to write about how I have felt and the experience of it all. I guess it has turned into a cheap form of therapy for me. Even in the darkest of early days, once I came round in ICU with tubes running everywhere and morphine levels high I began jotting into a notebook that a friend had left by my bedside .
I remember my nurses asking me on one occasion what I was writing about; I think they found it slightly nutty that here was this woman who had a head half shaved, full of staples and pipes , unable to stand unaided but was often to be found scribbling furiously into a notebook. It amused and bemused them at the same time. Perhaps there was also a nervousness that I was cataloguing the less salubrious goings on in a critical care ward (I did get a few of those too!) . All I know is that I poured my thoughts, my fears and sometimes my amazing hallucinations into that little notebook. It was a companion, someone I could talk to no matter the time of day or night. I filled that notebook entirely in those 6 odd weeks that I spent locked in ward in a bed in London. To be honest I have only looked at what I wrote a few times as I still find it a bit painful to read. Interestingly whilst I may have thought I could write at the time my handwriting and spelling tells a different story. Some of it is completely illegible, other bits just drop off the page and I often stopped halfway through a thought. A page turner it most definitely isn’t.
I kept up writing my diary once back at home. I captured my daily achievements, my tiny successes, and the painful progress. I wrote down my pains and aches like I was keeping a weather chart. I listed goals for each day and tried to tick them off. Sometimes it was just ‘get up’ and that is all I achieved. It’s really strange to look back on that time and have a reminder of it. I wrote how happy I was the first time I was given a full head hair wash but also the fear that just doing that could dislodge something in my head. I wrote of my embarrassment that I had to be helped to wash by family members as I couldn’t manage to do it by myself. I recorded the tears that fell because I couldn’t manage to even brush my daughter’s hair ready for school.
Roll on a few months and despite thinking I was doing well I found myself back again in the hospital. That was a shock and a half and to be honest I was feeling frankly miserable and bruised and battered and trying to weather the after effects of a second brain surgery. That’s when I started this blog, which looking back was probably a pretty crazy thing to do at the time but I have gained a lot of comfort from writing it. It seemed somehow a more civilised way of writing my thoughts down and also it gave me a way to practice doing things which to that point I hadn’t been able to do. Before I had James shunt put in to relieve the brain pressure from the gerbil wee I couldn’t watch TV, look at a screen for any length of time, but after the operation, whilst it took its time to get to a steady setting, it was instantly easier to look at things online.
The other positive side of all my online journaling is I can tell people around me how I am really feeling without having to look them in the eye and say it, something I surely couldn’t do without tears on some days. I suppose I am still grieving for the bits of me that I lost when my brain bled and whilst it does get better, much much better, it can never be the same as it was, what I knew and was familiar with. Hey, but any change is always hard right?
My closest and dearest family and friends see me every day, they see the progress I am still making, they know the battles I still face and struggle with, they reassure my fears and they realise and support me as my recovery is years in the making and not a matter of months. That’s a harder message to tell and this blog helps me to be honest about that reality to people I see less often and is my easiest way of being the honest upfront person I think I always was and still am and if along the way a few complete strangers read it and enjoy it too, well then that’s all good stuff too.
I remember my nurses asking me on one occasion what I was writing about; I think they found it slightly nutty that here was this woman who had a head half shaved, full of staples and pipes , unable to stand unaided but was often to be found scribbling furiously into a notebook. It amused and bemused them at the same time. Perhaps there was also a nervousness that I was cataloguing the less salubrious goings on in a critical care ward (I did get a few of those too!) . All I know is that I poured my thoughts, my fears and sometimes my amazing hallucinations into that little notebook. It was a companion, someone I could talk to no matter the time of day or night. I filled that notebook entirely in those 6 odd weeks that I spent locked in ward in a bed in London. To be honest I have only looked at what I wrote a few times as I still find it a bit painful to read. Interestingly whilst I may have thought I could write at the time my handwriting and spelling tells a different story. Some of it is completely illegible, other bits just drop off the page and I often stopped halfway through a thought. A page turner it most definitely isn’t.
I kept up writing my diary once back at home. I captured my daily achievements, my tiny successes, and the painful progress. I wrote down my pains and aches like I was keeping a weather chart. I listed goals for each day and tried to tick them off. Sometimes it was just ‘get up’ and that is all I achieved. It’s really strange to look back on that time and have a reminder of it. I wrote how happy I was the first time I was given a full head hair wash but also the fear that just doing that could dislodge something in my head. I wrote of my embarrassment that I had to be helped to wash by family members as I couldn’t manage to do it by myself. I recorded the tears that fell because I couldn’t manage to even brush my daughter’s hair ready for school.
Roll on a few months and despite thinking I was doing well I found myself back again in the hospital. That was a shock and a half and to be honest I was feeling frankly miserable and bruised and battered and trying to weather the after effects of a second brain surgery. That’s when I started this blog, which looking back was probably a pretty crazy thing to do at the time but I have gained a lot of comfort from writing it. It seemed somehow a more civilised way of writing my thoughts down and also it gave me a way to practice doing things which to that point I hadn’t been able to do. Before I had James shunt put in to relieve the brain pressure from the gerbil wee I couldn’t watch TV, look at a screen for any length of time, but after the operation, whilst it took its time to get to a steady setting, it was instantly easier to look at things online.
The other positive side of all my online journaling is I can tell people around me how I am really feeling without having to look them in the eye and say it, something I surely couldn’t do without tears on some days. I suppose I am still grieving for the bits of me that I lost when my brain bled and whilst it does get better, much much better, it can never be the same as it was, what I knew and was familiar with. Hey, but any change is always hard right?
My closest and dearest family and friends see me every day, they see the progress I am still making, they know the battles I still face and struggle with, they reassure my fears and they realise and support me as my recovery is years in the making and not a matter of months. That’s a harder message to tell and this blog helps me to be honest about that reality to people I see less often and is my easiest way of being the honest upfront person I think I always was and still am and if along the way a few complete strangers read it and enjoy it too, well then that’s all good stuff too.
Friday, 4 October 2013
I think like a squirrel
We've all seen the little squidges, hard at work, furiously at work burying their latest nut, totally concentrating on their task at hand when all of a sudden they lift their head and bound off in another direction and start the same thing all over again. This week I have felt a strong connection with my furry cousins and had moments when I have felt like Scratch out of Ice Age as I repeatedly have gone back to a task that I had thought I had done but in fact had only imagined I had done it so each time my nut was missing!! Blooming annoying.
So what? I hear you say, you do that all the time too. Well that's probably true but I've been learning all about my brain this week and I have learnt reasons for changes like the one I describe above. Whereas I was thinking that my memory had deteriated post my SAH I have now learnt that in fact my processing power has probably gone down a notch or two, so it's not that I don't remember it's just I just didn't file the information fully in the first place. And the good news is that hopefully I can continue to retrain and reboot my brain , YEY!
Life marches on with me. I'm back at work for a fair few hours now,I am managing weekly trips to my London hospital for rehab completely unaided and physically I remind myself more of the pre pop Tifty. Who would've thought all that was possible even twelve months ago, not me for sure, yet here we are. Time has passed Slowly but it has been kind, and after lots of baby steps , gritted teeth and the odd few moves backwards and sideways, its good to report that its going pretty well right now. I know that this dance will continue long into the future, maybe my entire life, but I suppose I am more familiar with the steps which makes it a little easier when I stumble or fall.
I still set myself little goals each day, a trick that Headway introduced me to early on. Admittedly some days those are simpler than others but there is some satisfaction to be had in putting a load of washing on, honestly there is. I didn't say enjoyment please note, I derive satisfaction that I could complete the task I planned to. Wanted to clear that up as I don't want friends to worry I have had a complete personality change and now enjoy doing the laundry!
So what? I hear you say, you do that all the time too. Well that's probably true but I've been learning all about my brain this week and I have learnt reasons for changes like the one I describe above. Whereas I was thinking that my memory had deteriated post my SAH I have now learnt that in fact my processing power has probably gone down a notch or two, so it's not that I don't remember it's just I just didn't file the information fully in the first place. And the good news is that hopefully I can continue to retrain and reboot my brain , YEY!
Life marches on with me. I'm back at work for a fair few hours now,I am managing weekly trips to my London hospital for rehab completely unaided and physically I remind myself more of the pre pop Tifty. Who would've thought all that was possible even twelve months ago, not me for sure, yet here we are. Time has passed Slowly but it has been kind, and after lots of baby steps , gritted teeth and the odd few moves backwards and sideways, its good to report that its going pretty well right now. I know that this dance will continue long into the future, maybe my entire life, but I suppose I am more familiar with the steps which makes it a little easier when I stumble or fall.
I still set myself little goals each day, a trick that Headway introduced me to early on. Admittedly some days those are simpler than others but there is some satisfaction to be had in putting a load of washing on, honestly there is. I didn't say enjoyment please note, I derive satisfaction that I could complete the task I planned to. Wanted to clear that up as I don't want friends to worry I have had a complete personality change and now enjoy doing the laundry!
Tuesday, 3 September 2013
Holidaying at home
Last summer I spent my summer holidays in hospital or in bed. I didn’t even have the consolation of being able to watch the Olympics as the stimulation and noise of TV was just too much for my battered and recently invaded brain, in fact the opening ceremony spectacle almost did me in…all those flashing lights and drama…and There was no escaping it on the general ward. You would’ve thought a neuro hospital would have realised that this was unwelcome sensory overload but I guess they were caught up in the excitement like everyone else. I did at least get to see the Red Arrows speed over the hospital on their way to the opening ceremony which brought a much needed smile to me and hubby.
Our entire summer was a write off, interspersed with the odd drama of blue light trips to London ( 35 minutes in rush hour traffic if you are interested) and lightened by the promise of relief that James Shunt was intended and did eventually bring. The weather even joined in and it was thoroughly miserable and pretty tough going.
Foward onto this year and the holiday season has arrived witness to a much improved body and mind thank goodness and that all too rare occurrence; a sunny British summer. My events from last year has left me determined to enjoy as many moments as I can but it's all a little gentler than the olden days but I'm loving it all the same. Interestly I am probably the family member in least need of a holiday as I have spent so much time of late focussing on me, resting up,generally being kind to myself and I am in no rush to holiday abroad yet and test how the gerbils react to cabin air pressure but that's a goal for next year I think.
I do find life bumps along for me more comfortably when it's taken at a slower pace these days and it’s a case of weighing up what can be done against how much effort it will take me to do it. The ferryman will always take his toll. I know if I plan a day out that I will have to exercise judgement of how many of the activities I should actually join in with and when to sit things out; literally I park my bum down. This summer has seen me sat in hat, sunglasses and earplugs in many different places whilst the world whirls past me but it is a happy state I sit in. Ok, so it’s a little frustrated but primarily happy state I sit in and here are just a few of my top moments from this summer , each of them representing a huge improvement on just a short 12 months ago and although after each day out I then have a rubbish few days they are definitely a fair price to pay..
1. Trip to the Tower of London. Yes, it was busy. Yes, it was hot, but I think it’s one of those places in London where you can always find a peaceful and quiet corner which is strange considering its violent and dark history really. We loved this day out and whilst sitting quietly having my usual rest in my invisibility cloak of glasses and hat a blooming raven hopped up on the bench next to me. ‘Caw, Caw’ shattering my peaceful private meditation. Cue every tourist in vicinity completely surrounding me and the bird and taking numerous pictures. I am tickled that I'm probably in so many holiday pictures. The girls and MIL returned from their trip to one of the Towers to find me chatting to a very nice founder of commune in Indiana… pre SAH I am sure I would never have stopped long enough to experience all that.
2. ‘StephFest’. Last year I turned 40 but I was too feeble and poorly to celebrate at all so we deferred celebrations to this year; the Big 41! Actually it was still a very gentle and low key celebration compared to events from yesteryear but the normalcy of having friends and family over, coping with the constant hum of background noise and just managing to be present for it was a HUGE thing and a lovely time was had by all.
3. Blackberry picking. I love the therapy of picking blackberries and there are loads and loads of them this year thanks to the sunshine although i didnt realise the highland cattle had been moved back into the field which was interesting. That said we have had a great haul which then allows me to indulge in another pastime I like; making jam. I do it in small batches so as not to overload myself but my cupboards are beginning to show the fruits of our labour and hopefully there will be more to come, the apples are ripening nicely now, then green guages ...can’t wait.
4. Swimming in the sea. If I can forget for moment the awful journey to and from our coastal destination then I can savour instead the sweetness ( and coldness) of dipping my body into the sea for the first time in ages. I have always enjoyed swimming and it was glorious to be splashing around with the girls although I didn’t half ache the next day.
All in all this summer has involved plenty of nicer moments which are gradually crowding out the awfulness of the last year and a half and brought with it new moments, new memories that all help me heal.
Our entire summer was a write off, interspersed with the odd drama of blue light trips to London ( 35 minutes in rush hour traffic if you are interested) and lightened by the promise of relief that James Shunt was intended and did eventually bring. The weather even joined in and it was thoroughly miserable and pretty tough going.
Foward onto this year and the holiday season has arrived witness to a much improved body and mind thank goodness and that all too rare occurrence; a sunny British summer. My events from last year has left me determined to enjoy as many moments as I can but it's all a little gentler than the olden days but I'm loving it all the same. Interestly I am probably the family member in least need of a holiday as I have spent so much time of late focussing on me, resting up,generally being kind to myself and I am in no rush to holiday abroad yet and test how the gerbils react to cabin air pressure but that's a goal for next year I think.
I do find life bumps along for me more comfortably when it's taken at a slower pace these days and it’s a case of weighing up what can be done against how much effort it will take me to do it. The ferryman will always take his toll. I know if I plan a day out that I will have to exercise judgement of how many of the activities I should actually join in with and when to sit things out; literally I park my bum down. This summer has seen me sat in hat, sunglasses and earplugs in many different places whilst the world whirls past me but it is a happy state I sit in. Ok, so it’s a little frustrated but primarily happy state I sit in and here are just a few of my top moments from this summer , each of them representing a huge improvement on just a short 12 months ago and although after each day out I then have a rubbish few days they are definitely a fair price to pay..
1. Trip to the Tower of London. Yes, it was busy. Yes, it was hot, but I think it’s one of those places in London where you can always find a peaceful and quiet corner which is strange considering its violent and dark history really. We loved this day out and whilst sitting quietly having my usual rest in my invisibility cloak of glasses and hat a blooming raven hopped up on the bench next to me. ‘Caw, Caw’ shattering my peaceful private meditation. Cue every tourist in vicinity completely surrounding me and the bird and taking numerous pictures. I am tickled that I'm probably in so many holiday pictures. The girls and MIL returned from their trip to one of the Towers to find me chatting to a very nice founder of commune in Indiana… pre SAH I am sure I would never have stopped long enough to experience all that.
2. ‘StephFest’. Last year I turned 40 but I was too feeble and poorly to celebrate at all so we deferred celebrations to this year; the Big 41! Actually it was still a very gentle and low key celebration compared to events from yesteryear but the normalcy of having friends and family over, coping with the constant hum of background noise and just managing to be present for it was a HUGE thing and a lovely time was had by all.
3. Blackberry picking. I love the therapy of picking blackberries and there are loads and loads of them this year thanks to the sunshine although i didnt realise the highland cattle had been moved back into the field which was interesting. That said we have had a great haul which then allows me to indulge in another pastime I like; making jam. I do it in small batches so as not to overload myself but my cupboards are beginning to show the fruits of our labour and hopefully there will be more to come, the apples are ripening nicely now, then green guages ...can’t wait.
4. Swimming in the sea. If I can forget for moment the awful journey to and from our coastal destination then I can savour instead the sweetness ( and coldness) of dipping my body into the sea for the first time in ages. I have always enjoyed swimming and it was glorious to be splashing around with the girls although I didn’t half ache the next day.
All in all this summer has involved plenty of nicer moments which are gradually crowding out the awfulness of the last year and a half and brought with it new moments, new memories that all help me heal.
Wednesday, 10 July 2013
Happy birthday to ya!
The last month has been a good month mostly. Some ups. Less downs so on the whole I will chalk this up under 'still improving ever so slightly' category of recovery phases as opposed to ' completely crappy' or ' neither here nor there'.
To lift spirits I've been fortunate that I've had visits from not one but two of my dearest friends in the last week who also just happen to reside halfway around the other side of the world now; was it something I said? Anyway, it was great to see them though if a little emotional and I can recommend a transatlantic friend or two comes in very handy if you're ever ill and stuck in hospital. I found it so comforting last year to have someone to keep me company by text on the late and noisy nights, and someone who loves you in another time zone is just the ticket. My friend might disagree as when I told her I was being kept awake by a fire alarm ( rubbish noises when you had the head from hell that I did) She did point out that maybe I should be evacuating and not texting her. As usual it was the nurses setting off the alarm with the toaster. Or then another time when I was texting and shared i was not feeling great then promptly fell asleep so not replying to next text, it's always nice to bring faraway folk closer by worrying the hell out of them via technology.
This month also saw a trip to the neurophyschogist. Hard enough to spell that, in fact that could have been the first check, spell as many words as you can with neuro in them. All in all it was a very enjoyable few hours spent naming as many fruits as I could in 1 minute, completing mental arithmetic tests, being a human thesarus and spotting what's missing from pictures. I don't have the results as yet but I'm sure it will just confirm what I suspect , that my brains filing cabinet may have been knocked over but I just need to continue to work out where everything has been put now. Most of the time its where I left it but sometimes there's a little surprise instead. I think all the questions about fruit obviously affected me during the session as later I wanted to answer banana more than once but managed to hold myself in check. Fruit Tourette's obviously.
I quite gratefully handed the medical spotlight baton style over to my sister a few weeks ago as she managed to contract a strain of bird pneumonia. Thankfully shes over the worst of it and mich better now so The search for a cause has started. Fingers have been pointed at the bat that flew into her bedroom as beng the likely culprit of carrying this nasty bacteria strain but I confess we havent been as generous with support as we could be and there has been the odd rendition of 'Bat in the Bedroom , what is she gonna do?'. Cruel I know but laughter is the best medicine and after all she's the one who started all the business about the gerbils in the brain....
Oh that reminds me. Huge milestone. James is one year old next week. Happy Birthday James. Wow. So this time last year I started my blog whilst in hospital feeling miserable waiting to see what my prognosis would be and then before I knew it I had a super new haircut, staples aplenty and James Shunt has taken up residence in my head. It's been an uneasy partnership since then as i have got used to life with a toilet overflow type device onboard at the same time as recovering from the SAH but I think it is safe to say but we are doing well. Really well.
To lift spirits I've been fortunate that I've had visits from not one but two of my dearest friends in the last week who also just happen to reside halfway around the other side of the world now; was it something I said? Anyway, it was great to see them though if a little emotional and I can recommend a transatlantic friend or two comes in very handy if you're ever ill and stuck in hospital. I found it so comforting last year to have someone to keep me company by text on the late and noisy nights, and someone who loves you in another time zone is just the ticket. My friend might disagree as when I told her I was being kept awake by a fire alarm ( rubbish noises when you had the head from hell that I did) She did point out that maybe I should be evacuating and not texting her. As usual it was the nurses setting off the alarm with the toaster. Or then another time when I was texting and shared i was not feeling great then promptly fell asleep so not replying to next text, it's always nice to bring faraway folk closer by worrying the hell out of them via technology.
This month also saw a trip to the neurophyschogist. Hard enough to spell that, in fact that could have been the first check, spell as many words as you can with neuro in them. All in all it was a very enjoyable few hours spent naming as many fruits as I could in 1 minute, completing mental arithmetic tests, being a human thesarus and spotting what's missing from pictures. I don't have the results as yet but I'm sure it will just confirm what I suspect , that my brains filing cabinet may have been knocked over but I just need to continue to work out where everything has been put now. Most of the time its where I left it but sometimes there's a little surprise instead. I think all the questions about fruit obviously affected me during the session as later I wanted to answer banana more than once but managed to hold myself in check. Fruit Tourette's obviously.
I quite gratefully handed the medical spotlight baton style over to my sister a few weeks ago as she managed to contract a strain of bird pneumonia. Thankfully shes over the worst of it and mich better now so The search for a cause has started. Fingers have been pointed at the bat that flew into her bedroom as beng the likely culprit of carrying this nasty bacteria strain but I confess we havent been as generous with support as we could be and there has been the odd rendition of 'Bat in the Bedroom , what is she gonna do?'. Cruel I know but laughter is the best medicine and after all she's the one who started all the business about the gerbils in the brain....
Oh that reminds me. Huge milestone. James is one year old next week. Happy Birthday James. Wow. So this time last year I started my blog whilst in hospital feeling miserable waiting to see what my prognosis would be and then before I knew it I had a super new haircut, staples aplenty and James Shunt has taken up residence in my head. It's been an uneasy partnership since then as i have got used to life with a toilet overflow type device onboard at the same time as recovering from the SAH but I think it is safe to say but we are doing well. Really well.
Saturday, 8 June 2013
Let the river run
I've been a working girl all my life or so it seems but to be honest I have never really known what i wanted to do although I have in the main enjoyed everything I have done. I've already mentioned in a previous musing that I didn't have the courage to fail at being an architect which I rather fancied doing so instead of getting down to studying I scooted off to London instead where my education was of a slightly differing variety. More of that later.
I started young with my work ethic; I dabbled in a little cottage industry making Fimo badges when I was at school and that brought in extra pocket money but it was clear I was never going to be a talented artist. Babysitting for kids that were only a few years younger than me earnt me plenty and taught me tips I use today as a mother ( always have ice pops in the freezer) but quickly proved anything related to teaching or childcare was not my vocation. A Saturday job in my future brother in laws shop was a great social tool for future beaus but didn't bring many prospects long term.
I'm supposed to be grown up now but it's mad to think that I still don't really know what to do when I grow up and yet having had so much time of late to think about it I'm still no closer to knowing. What I have realised though is my experience over the last twenty years means I am actually pretty well suited to the work I do and as in recent weeks I've finally started back doing some hours it has brought hme to me again just how important work is to my psyche. It's good to know when you can do something, and I'm learning what and how much of the stuff I used to do is still possible and in reach. But Blimey it's hard work this working lark after such an absence. My poor brain has been through it over recent months and i thought i'd felt most things but I swear I could hear it fizzing and stretching the first time I opened up an excel file after a lengthy time apart. Excel I have not missed you in my life.
I'm taking things super slow as i return which is not something that normally features in my plans but I'm fortunate that I work with enlightened people who understand that you can't rush this brain of mine. It won't be rushed. A friend shared with me a view a neuroscientist had given her which is that the brain is like an elephant and the mind is the rider of that elephant. Sometimes the elephant is just going to go its own way and there isn't the slightest thing you can do to turn it, might as well just look up at the clouds once the elephant is off rampaging.
I have wondered often about choices I have made in my work path but equally I think most things work out well if you believe that anything is possible. I do wish I had been less scared to fail at things when I was younger but maybe that realisation only comes with age and the experience that failure is not actually scary most times, hell what is someone's definition of failure is another's of success. The experience of living with a constant changing pattern of health , now thats scary somedays, and the shadow of fear it casts is challenging my values and stretching me like nothing has before. Just last week saw hospital trips and blooming big needles and it threw me back to unhappier days. It's so hard not being able to trust in your body , in the signals you always felt you knew pretty well. And I'm SO impatient. I applaud the slow movement but equally find it hard to be in enforced membership but I WILL learn to live with it.
my London education? Where to start? I could vault any road barrier whilst hailing a taxi and wearing an extremely short skirt. I measured Petula Clark for a bra. My flatmate and I were word perfect to Carly Simons working girl theme song which would be belted out after many a late night salsa and tequila night. Oh the sweet innocence of the early nineties, maybe that's the subject for my next blog entry. I best warn said flatmate before I open up that can of worms. I don't think anyone has a picture of me trapped in an Oxford Street escalator though after it ate my skirt...thank goodness mobile phones weren't as commonplace back then as that would have been a million plus viewer on YouTube.
I started young with my work ethic; I dabbled in a little cottage industry making Fimo badges when I was at school and that brought in extra pocket money but it was clear I was never going to be a talented artist. Babysitting for kids that were only a few years younger than me earnt me plenty and taught me tips I use today as a mother ( always have ice pops in the freezer) but quickly proved anything related to teaching or childcare was not my vocation. A Saturday job in my future brother in laws shop was a great social tool for future beaus but didn't bring many prospects long term.
I'm supposed to be grown up now but it's mad to think that I still don't really know what to do when I grow up and yet having had so much time of late to think about it I'm still no closer to knowing. What I have realised though is my experience over the last twenty years means I am actually pretty well suited to the work I do and as in recent weeks I've finally started back doing some hours it has brought hme to me again just how important work is to my psyche. It's good to know when you can do something, and I'm learning what and how much of the stuff I used to do is still possible and in reach. But Blimey it's hard work this working lark after such an absence. My poor brain has been through it over recent months and i thought i'd felt most things but I swear I could hear it fizzing and stretching the first time I opened up an excel file after a lengthy time apart. Excel I have not missed you in my life.
I'm taking things super slow as i return which is not something that normally features in my plans but I'm fortunate that I work with enlightened people who understand that you can't rush this brain of mine. It won't be rushed. A friend shared with me a view a neuroscientist had given her which is that the brain is like an elephant and the mind is the rider of that elephant. Sometimes the elephant is just going to go its own way and there isn't the slightest thing you can do to turn it, might as well just look up at the clouds once the elephant is off rampaging.
I have wondered often about choices I have made in my work path but equally I think most things work out well if you believe that anything is possible. I do wish I had been less scared to fail at things when I was younger but maybe that realisation only comes with age and the experience that failure is not actually scary most times, hell what is someone's definition of failure is another's of success. The experience of living with a constant changing pattern of health , now thats scary somedays, and the shadow of fear it casts is challenging my values and stretching me like nothing has before. Just last week saw hospital trips and blooming big needles and it threw me back to unhappier days. It's so hard not being able to trust in your body , in the signals you always felt you knew pretty well. And I'm SO impatient. I applaud the slow movement but equally find it hard to be in enforced membership but I WILL learn to live with it.
my London education? Where to start? I could vault any road barrier whilst hailing a taxi and wearing an extremely short skirt. I measured Petula Clark for a bra. My flatmate and I were word perfect to Carly Simons working girl theme song which would be belted out after many a late night salsa and tequila night. Oh the sweet innocence of the early nineties, maybe that's the subject for my next blog entry. I best warn said flatmate before I open up that can of worms. I don't think anyone has a picture of me trapped in an Oxford Street escalator though after it ate my skirt...thank goodness mobile phones weren't as commonplace back then as that would have been a million plus viewer on YouTube.
Wednesday, 17 April 2013
Surviving the shark attack
There I was just happily going about the everyday business of life. Rushing here. Rushing there. Cramming it all in. Busy, busy , busy. Then an unseen force grabbed me with the ferocity of a shark and in a split second, or thats what it felt like, I had gone, pulled beneath the water and everything just stopped. Silence.
Later on, after I bobbed back up to the surface a few times, wounded, battered and bruised it was clear to me that something was very different inside, missing even , but what was it, what had changed?
Its oh so tricky to explain the feelings of the changes that have occurred to my pre pop self, and now that I am 'looking so well' , 'why thank you very much' , it has become even harder to voice that I'm not yet back to my normal self and that it's probable that a new normal is my destination, and it's a journey I'm still travelling. That said that I have a chance to get to a new place is still something I'm eternally grateful for.
To use a computer analogy it was a little like my hard drive got wiped and although I've managed to do the back up pretty comprehensively ,albeit gradually , I do think that some of my functions have got a little bit corrupted and don't do quite what they allowed me to do before, certainly not in the way they previously did. I have friends who are very skilled at cobalt and Unix so maybe they could just write me a little programme to correct the coding errors that have crept in.
Some days I can just do stuff and I'm like 'hooray' and then I speed up a little and then WHAM, I get stopped in my tracks, or more commonly it just feels like someone has put a speed restriction on me so that i walk a bit slower or some of the words get nicked out of my brain just before I was going to use them. Or I need to sleep. Immediately. CTR ALT DELETE. RESTART. Sleep is often the answer and after a quick doze I switch back on and ready to go again.
I've had to practise doing things that I took for granted, to remind my brain of things we used to do well together but I have been very fortunate that My brain is allowing me to do that. Ive adopted an approach of super gradual re-introduction to most things and been kind with myself ( most days) and not expected to be able do everything at the levels and speeds I once did, well not straight away. My optimism remains mostly intact and I can hope that I will get there with most things and I have been delighted every time I have been able to bring something back that was lost to me for a while, especially the small stuff.
I have reclaimed threading a needle, walking the dog, standing on one leg, actually my list of accomplishments to date is nice and long considering how deeply I was submerged and the ferocity of the attack so I do remember do pat myself on the back occasionally.
My inspiration to push on and take the knock-backs has been taken from people who have been my constant supporters through this entire process.All of them have been knocked off their life course when they least expected it and knew what that felt like and just counselled that it always takes time to heal and adapt.Im sure that they didn't know how they were going to get through the next days, weeks , months but they did and they are using that strength and knowledge to help me.
In fact when I take a look around every single person who has reached out to me, sharing the love, have been dragged under by a shark at some point in their lives. And they all got back in the water and carried on swimming. So that's what I'm trying to do. Follow their awesome lead.
When I think back to people I have loved and lost whom I admired, they too all had great white moments during their lifetimes and they lived to tell the tale. Even those that didn't survive their attack showed such courage and dignity that it would be selfish of me not to get back in the water and swim until frankly all I'm good for is shark bait and I blooming love swimming.
I expect I'll always hear the JAWs music at times. It creeps up on me ...that's the fear coming of the known terror, the real and unseen risk that forever lurks. That fear that will try and stop you doing stuff in case you get hurt again, or it lists out all the 'what ifs' but I have to learn to put the ear plugs on and just paddle on ignoring the music cos there's always a shark or two in the water.
Hey, maybe I should learn to surf whilst I'm at it. Would that make it any safer i wonder? Knowing my luck I'd be the one surfer chick who got mistaken for a seal....still it might make it more fun to ride the waves....right too many analogies .I'm done for now.
Later on, after I bobbed back up to the surface a few times, wounded, battered and bruised it was clear to me that something was very different inside, missing even , but what was it, what had changed?
Its oh so tricky to explain the feelings of the changes that have occurred to my pre pop self, and now that I am 'looking so well' , 'why thank you very much' , it has become even harder to voice that I'm not yet back to my normal self and that it's probable that a new normal is my destination, and it's a journey I'm still travelling. That said that I have a chance to get to a new place is still something I'm eternally grateful for.
To use a computer analogy it was a little like my hard drive got wiped and although I've managed to do the back up pretty comprehensively ,albeit gradually , I do think that some of my functions have got a little bit corrupted and don't do quite what they allowed me to do before, certainly not in the way they previously did. I have friends who are very skilled at cobalt and Unix so maybe they could just write me a little programme to correct the coding errors that have crept in.
Some days I can just do stuff and I'm like 'hooray' and then I speed up a little and then WHAM, I get stopped in my tracks, or more commonly it just feels like someone has put a speed restriction on me so that i walk a bit slower or some of the words get nicked out of my brain just before I was going to use them. Or I need to sleep. Immediately. CTR ALT DELETE. RESTART. Sleep is often the answer and after a quick doze I switch back on and ready to go again.
I've had to practise doing things that I took for granted, to remind my brain of things we used to do well together but I have been very fortunate that My brain is allowing me to do that. Ive adopted an approach of super gradual re-introduction to most things and been kind with myself ( most days) and not expected to be able do everything at the levels and speeds I once did, well not straight away. My optimism remains mostly intact and I can hope that I will get there with most things and I have been delighted every time I have been able to bring something back that was lost to me for a while, especially the small stuff.
I have reclaimed threading a needle, walking the dog, standing on one leg, actually my list of accomplishments to date is nice and long considering how deeply I was submerged and the ferocity of the attack so I do remember do pat myself on the back occasionally.
My inspiration to push on and take the knock-backs has been taken from people who have been my constant supporters through this entire process.All of them have been knocked off their life course when they least expected it and knew what that felt like and just counselled that it always takes time to heal and adapt.Im sure that they didn't know how they were going to get through the next days, weeks , months but they did and they are using that strength and knowledge to help me.
In fact when I take a look around every single person who has reached out to me, sharing the love, have been dragged under by a shark at some point in their lives. And they all got back in the water and carried on swimming. So that's what I'm trying to do. Follow their awesome lead.
When I think back to people I have loved and lost whom I admired, they too all had great white moments during their lifetimes and they lived to tell the tale. Even those that didn't survive their attack showed such courage and dignity that it would be selfish of me not to get back in the water and swim until frankly all I'm good for is shark bait and I blooming love swimming.
I expect I'll always hear the JAWs music at times. It creeps up on me ...that's the fear coming of the known terror, the real and unseen risk that forever lurks. That fear that will try and stop you doing stuff in case you get hurt again, or it lists out all the 'what ifs' but I have to learn to put the ear plugs on and just paddle on ignoring the music cos there's always a shark or two in the water.
Hey, maybe I should learn to surf whilst I'm at it. Would that make it any safer i wonder? Knowing my luck I'd be the one surfer chick who got mistaken for a seal....still it might make it more fun to ride the waves....right too many analogies .I'm done for now.
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