Words of Wisdom

Youth is wasted on the young.
Showing posts with label pain. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pain. Show all posts

Sunday, 22 April 2012

Behind the Barricades


Recently, whilst looking back over posts to find a picture I'd lost in the tangle of changing machines and corrupted external drives, I found this post.

It made me sad because I used to be quite funny.

Sure my job was a nightmare and my stress levels through the roof, but I was observing things with a keen eye and I hadn't lost my sense of humour. Now, as I look back over the last few months here at The Sword, I see superficial posts with a hat tip to reality and with dwindling attempts at humour and insight. Of course, it's indicative of where we are in life but it still makes me sad. Hell, I wouldn't want to read me.

So, in an effort to clamber over the roughly proportionate brick walls of malaise and life demands which tower threateningly over  my creativity and humour, I'm going to fill you in, as tactfully as possible, on the recent vagaries of life at The Sword although, to be honest, it isn't tact that's stopped me writing around here; I was never overly blessed with tact. :-)

A number of things have happened recently, some good, some bad, some a little ambiguous (we shall see how they turn out). Himself and I are struggling with health issues, No 2 Son is unemployed again, Small Boy doesn't come by any more and the Baby Angel is in the throes of her final year at school. Even without recent events, we have out hands full.

The good thing that's happened is that Himself's uncle has left us what looks to be a sizeable legacy. The bad thing is that the two of us now have to agree on how to use it! I would like to reduce our mortgage as much as possible, as well as replace that retaining wall which has been causing us grief for some years now.
Himself would like to put a sizeable chunk of it into the business. *Sigh*
Business is the big issue of course. Being self employed in this economic climate is not a comfortable thing. Of course, as the economy bunny hops along, people want websites to promote their business and whilst there is no problem in attracting the clients,  many don't actually have the readies with which to pay, at least not within our '14 day payment' terms. This leaves us with cash flow issues and naturally when there's not enough to go around, it's the Boss who misses out.We seem to have been standing still financially for as long as Himself and I have been together. So whilst Himself sees the inheritance as an opportunity to invest in the business, I see it as throwing wads of bank notes into a black hole.

The ambiguous thing is that Himself's business partner sauntered into the office a month or so ago and announced he was moving to the UK. Has had already sold his house. With a creative partnership stretching back nearly 15 years, Himself was gutted by the bombshell delivery of the news.

I suppose we should have seen it coming. With the employment of a couple of super hot young programmers in the last few years Business Partner, as the technical arm of the partnership, has been feeling more and more inadequate and disempowered. Add to this the fact that his wife wants to live in a cooler climate and his son to attend a european university and it was really only a matter of time. I guess we just wished he had discussed it before it became a fait accompli.

Naturally, this has produced a flurry of restructuring, not the least of which was our recent sojourn to Kangaroo Island for a 'Restructuring Workshop'.


The remaining 'gang' gathered at our favourite island resort to see how roles could be re-organised and tasks re-allocated. It was good to do this away from the somewhat claustrophobic confines of the office and the continual interruption of phone and emails.
This:


Versus:


The interesting thing about the whole exercise is that it included me. Up until now I have had a fairly remote input into Himself's business activities. I have provided voice-overs, proof read content, tested new sites and occasionally collated print materials but I have not been involved in the day to day running of the office or in the strategic nature of the business. With the departure of BP this looks set to change.

Himself ran a very tight workshop over the one and a half days. I minuted, drew up a framework of aims, goals and objectives and helped to run through the 'who' and 'when' of an Action Plan. Apparently they thought I did a wonderful job because they also want me to come into the office on my one day a week off to chase payments, pay accounts and organise the filing system!

I am not sure how I feel about this.

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Also behind the barricade of doom and gloom are our health issues which are at once debilitating, depressing and expensive. Mine of course is the old shoulder problem which has surprisingly lain dormant for three and a half years. On re-reading this post I am shocked by how similar my symptoms are to this time, but how quickly they were cured by an injection last time. According to latest ultra sounds, I now have a full thickness tear of the tendon although, unlike in this picture, mine is probably more towards the front of the supraspinatus. It was sustained in the incident I described here although, it is likely that I had a pre-existing superficial tear (even though I can't remember any specific trauma) which has just ripped right through. Whatever the pathology of the thing, it ain't going to go away by itself and impacts on my ability to do many of the heavier manual tasks about the place that seem to fall to me. Strangely, it is my sleep which is most affected.

Lying still in one position for any length of time seems to cause nerve irritation and I am waking up in the early hours with intense burning pain down the front of my arm. Ack. Talking about it is enough to bring the shadow of those twin brick walls back over my head. My immediate inclination, right now, is to stop writing, get a large glass of wine and do something vaguely organisational like, oh I don't know, re-arranging deckchairs on the Titanic.

Himself is suffering with major dental issues which affect his quality of life and, like all dental issues, threaten to be hugely expensive. He wants to go the cheap route but I don't want to be married to someone with full dentures! :-( Bear this in mind any of you who still struggle with smoking. It is another aspect of the revolting habit which will come to plague you in later life!!

Stepsons are my other heartache. As briefly as possible I will mention some of these issues, as they do impact on me, although I know they are not actually my issues to discuss. No 1 Son is traveling a very dark path at present with addictions, money problems and even physical threats to his safety. He has been out on his own for 5 years now so we only see and hear about these things as the situation deteriorates. Himself is determined that No1 Son's problems will not impact upon the others.
No 2 Son is still living downstairs in his 'Pit' and we have some hope for him, if he could only get a direction in life. He is unemployed again at present and lacks the resilience to hammer on doors and flood businesses with his 'resume'. I feel strongly that if he could just find his passion and be given a break, he would blossom. OK it may turn out that he's more of a Patterson's Curse  than a Forget-Me-Not but hey! there's nothing like a big field of blue in the Spring. He often has good intentions.
Small Boy is breaking all our hearts at present. He has started High School and has simultaneously decided that he has better things to do than spend the weekend with a busy dad and two boring girls (The BA and I). In some ways, it is to be expected that his life will revolve less and less around the family, as indeed has been the case for the BA as she stretches her social wings; but I was just not expecting it so soon. And I strongly feel that his parents could be making more of a stand. And his first secondary school report reflects the state of play.

So that briefly (hah!) is life here behind the Barricades. I am hoping to recover my humour and energy and start writing, I mean really writing, again. I'm just not quite sure how to go about it.



Thursday, 13 January 2011

A Pocket Full Of Posies*


Is it just me or is everyone either unwell, in trouble or grieving at the moment? Everywhere I turn there are friends and family suffering or great swathes of the country enveloped in the mud of receding floodwaters as residents attempt to salvage what they can of their lives. It is almost too much to bear.


My mother has been very ill since her arrival in the country and, although she gets a little better each day, the vile virus is eating into her precious weeks of holiday here in Australia. Many of her friends are elderly so she is quarantined lest she infect them, which means she can't see many of the people she has travelled all this way to be with. My sisters in the UK have also been struck down by the thing to varying degrees and as I write I note that my throat is sore :-(


My Bestie is another disaster area. She has been suffering from a back injury, incurred at work some two years ago, which has been steadily getting worse. A scan before Christmas revealed a bulging disc and she was ordered to 'take it easy', a difficult thing for an energetic, competent woman like my Bestie. Before she could even put this advice into practice, she was involved in a 'rear ender' on her way from a work function which rendered her 'moderately' compressed spinal cord...'severe'. She is now housebound and in agony most of the time, taking a regimen of pain killers and unable to work, drive or even walk. Her beloved mother, who has been suffering from a bad knee for sometime, has experienced a rapid decline in her other knee and so she in unable to get around to help my Bestie out, a source of enormous frustration and anxiety for her.

Meanwhile, another friend lost her sister to suicide, my own friend in the UK lost her battle for life and watching the TV is just heartbreaking.

Which is why I was relieved to tears to hear that after a 'crisis' and a hospital visit, My Bestie is now, for some miraculous reason, pain free. It has been two days and she can walk normally and is sleeping in bed again. Her mother and I exchange knowing glances and offer silent prayers of praise.

Meanwhile, donate to the flood appeal
here and spread the relief.




* Despite Snopes' protestations otherwise, I have always believed that this old rhyme is plague related!




Thursday, 29 July 2010

Of Paper and Pills

I managed to write this on Thursday but didn't finish it until tonight:
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Ducking in this morning because Himself has done something nasty to his knee/leg and has asked me to take him to the doctors (It MUST be bad!). So I've had to bunk off work for a few lessons which has given me an opportunity to look st some blogs and to tell you quickly about my Year 10 lesson the other day.

I have given up on my Year 10s
(Exam Question: Here is some data on the number of fish eaten by Selma the Seal each day over a 60 day period. Is this data discrete or continuous?
Answer: continuous. Cos she just keeps eating.)

After 50% of them failed their mid year exam outright,
("let's look at this positively," said a colleague,"50% of them passed."
"No," I replied,"...48% passed and the other 2 % were borderline!")
I have decided to run a Stage 1 SACE Numeracy unit for this semester. It is a very practical series of tasks based on real life situations such as renting a house, running a car and paying off a loan.

The first task involves creating a spreadsheet to model the repaying of a loan. Once the formulae are entered you can change the interest rate, size and number of repayments in order to see what effect it has on the overall cost of the loan. The class have actually been pretty engaged in the task. I have no idea how much they have learned but they have been industriously entering numbers into the speadsheet so......fingers crossed!

Anyway, on Wednesday we reached the end of the lesson and I decided I would like to see the results of their efforts. With 5 minutes to go I said,
"OK everyone, put your name onto the spreadsheet and print it out for me."

There are 23 people in the class. There were 4 pages to each spreadsheet. There was one printer.

I cannot begin to describe the chaos which ensued.

I don't think I really understood the magnitude of my mistake until one of the girls came to me with three sheets of paper.
"Mrs A, this is all I can find of my assignment."
"But what happened to the other sheet? Can you not find it?
"Mrs A have you SEEN the mess over there?"

Note to self: create a system drop folder for electronic collection of future assignments;
pay for a tree to be planted to replace the ream of paper we wasted in multiple print outs of random pages of unidentifiable spreadsheets.

Live and learn.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Update: Himself has a torn cartilage in his knee. I suspect this was sustained during the climb to take these photos, although the symptoms did not set in for a few days.

In the usual way of men he has been dealing poorly with pain. He has been instructed to take 50mg of Voltarin (anti-inflammatory) every 8 hours as well as 500mg of paracetamol, a task which he is somehow finding difficult to manage. On Friday night he came to bed at his usual time of 2am and very quickly began to thrash about, moaning.

Me: What's the matter?
Him: Auurgh. The pain! It's really full tilt. I can't lie any way that's comfortable.
Me: How long since you took your last painkillers?
Him: Ummmmmmmmmm (sheepishly)......I had one at 2pm this afternoon.......
Me: WHAT? You should have had one hours ago!
Him: I know, but it wasn't hurting before.
Me: I don't suppose you thought to bring the tablets to bed with you?
Him: Ummmmmmmmmm
Me: (flings herself out of bed into the 2 degree air temperature, gets dressing gown and stomps off down the relatively long hallway to find the tablets, snorting impatiently.)

We had a discussion the next morning about the timing of his tablets. It was agreed that he needed to take them well before he came to bed in order to give them time to 'kick in' and enable him to rest comfortably.

Last night circa 2am:
Him: Moan, aarrrgh, moan, can't get comfortable etc etc
Me: You took your tablets didn't you?
Him: Yes, I took them 15 minutes ago.
Me: FIFTEEN MINUTES???? I thought we agreed you would take them 8 hourly and give them time to take effect before you came to bed???
Him: Well it wasn't hurting and I wanted to leave it as long as possible so I could get some sleep.
Me: fumes silently
Him: Moan, aarrrgh, moan, can't get comfortable etc etc Moan, aarrrgh, moan, can't get comfortable etc etc Moan, aarrrgh, moan, can't get comfortable etc etc
Him: (after another 5 minutes of this) I think I might need another tablet.
Me: What? How many did you take?
Him: Er, well, one.
Me: WHAT???????? The doctor TOLD you to take two!
Him: Well, yes but I am trying not to take too many and.....
Me: Please tell me that you brought the tablets to the bedroom, just in case.
Him: Ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
Me:ARGH!(flings herself out of bed into the -2 degree air temperature, gets dressing gown etcetcetc)

Honestly. Exactly what had changed about his condition which would have lead him to believe he required less medication?? The knee is swollen for pete's sake! There are now pills stashed in the bedside drawers >:-(

I swear if men had babies, epidurals would be a sacrament.

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