COVID-19: Fears Hiding Behind the Funnies

I often used to be one that had an egg to lay about current events. Once I relapsed I stopped listening to the news on the radio and well, I don’t watch mainstream TV often. The only time I ever watch the evening news is if I’m with The Toppie and The Bean, and that isn’t often. I spend some of my lunch times with them, or stop by for a cup of tea after work, but I’m home by the time the sun sets because I have work to do.

The #CoronaVirus has hit the world hard, and as much as we’d like to deny it, everyone is scared. Sure, the memes going around are funny, but the fact remains, this is a pandemic. The first since the Spanish Flu a hundred years ago, the cholera outbreak a century before that, and the plague a century before that. Whatever Higher Power you believe in, there’s a mass clean-up-cyclone happening, and we’re in the eye of the storm

Continue reading

Crazy, Dumb Belle?

I’m starting to feel a bit like a Dumb Belle because it’s been ages since I’ve even held a dumbbell, but I’ve got to start somewhere again, right?

In the words of Alanis Morrisette, Isn’t it Ironic?  I haven’t had (well, I still don’t) an appetite for almost six weeks, yet I’m craving sugar. In the form of cake.  Cheesecake, to be specific.  And carrots – not in a cake, but not raw either. And leeks, so much so that I went to buy some yesterday. And a pepper steak pie – a borderline-food-poisoning-garage-pie.  And no, I’m not pregnant. What I am, is tired.  It’s a damn catch-22 situation because if I drink a full dose of the sleeping tablets the psychiatrist prescribed, I sleep for a good eight hours, but wake up tired because the meds have not entirely worked out of my system and if I drink half, I wake up between three and four AM regardless of what time I lay my head down and fall asleep to the beat of my heart thudding in my ears.

In an attempt to entice some kind of hunger for food within me, I’m going back to the gym, under the watchful eye of my friend (and personal trainer), Steve.  I have my first session with him tonight, in thirty minutes in fact.

crossfit

 

If I don’t post something, even a one-liner, tomorrow, check the local papers for my obituary.  I imagine the headline will read something like Crazy Woman Cardios Herself into Cardiac Arrest with the byline Heavenly Heartrate Reached.

Besides the possibility that I’ll want to fill my stomach with more than just rooibos tea, I’m hoping that physically exhausting myself will allow me to sleep through without the daily aid of the sleeping tablets and that I’ll wake up feeling normal (whatever that is). I’m still a far cry from bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, but I’ll get there.

Wish me luck!

Direction = Up!

I watched an episode of NCIS: Los Angeles on Sunday at Harriet’s place.  It was about a cult called The Church of the Unlocked Mind.  I’ve been told that watching TV is not conducive to my recovery, but I didn’t think forty-five minutes would do much harm. Well, I had nightmares the entire night about being held captive- and attempted to be brainwashed by an inescapable sect that I was quite exhausted when I woke up on Monday morning.  I decided that reading is a more suitable pastime.

Today marks my one-month anniversary since I was discharged from the hospital.  For the most part, I’m feeling better and I’ve been likening myself to a Phoenix.  I even had Elena do my nails in the theme.

IMG-20190401-WA0041

I’ve shed many tears the past thirty days, but I remember in the second Harry Potter book that Professor Dumbledore told Harry that Phoenix tears having healing properties.  My own tears have contributed to my rise from the ashes; granted, crying isn’t the only thing that’s been a catalyst to the improvement of my mental health, I’ve also changed my ringtone to Katy Perry’s Rise.  But that too isn’t all:  It’s a combination of factors – the medication, going to sleep with the fowls and people respecting my boundaries.  At some stage I will make a concerted effort to get back in the gym, but not to become obsessed like I did the first time I did my nut.

I’ve also reached a point of tossing my hands in the air with a screw-this-I’m-over-itattitude if things beyond my control start to get me down.  Sometimes it takes a day, sometimes a week, sometimes a month and sometimes it takes literal years, but it happens.  When it happens, it is like something within me awakens and I have an urgent need to do something that will enhance my self-esteem or better me in some way.  I think that makes me human?

One thing that is a clear indicator of me being on the mend is that I’m starting to get excited about things again and I’m planning.  I love planning – whether it’s a meal, an outing, a party or a trip.  One of my colleagues has a milestone birthday coming up, in August, and I’m already thinking of something special that can be done to surprise her.  I’m also making photobooth props so that everyone in attendance can join in the fun and I’ll make a nice collage for her as a keepsake.  No, I’m not letting the cat out the bag here, because I know she doesn’t read my blog.

There are also plans in the pipeline to attend a bachelor auction at the end of May (I won’t be bidding on any would-be suitors though because the tickets are a bit steep), but it’s for a good cause and it’s a proper formal affair, and a night out on the town with my girl friends will do me good.  Shayla-Rae and Rowena have both hauled out formal dresses for me to try on, so I’m spoilt for choice.  I forgot home much fun playing dress-up can be.  I also realize that I look amazing in the colour green.  Maybe there’ll be more opportunities to wear evening dresses down the line, who knows?

In short, if I look back at where I am now vs where I was a month ago, renewal is clear and that’s good news.  One step at a time…

The Toppie: An Ulnar Fracture Update

Quite a few of you have enquired about The Toppie and his broken arm.  So, instead of repeating the same thing over and over, I thought it best to let you all know the way I did just after it happened.

One thing I can tell you from this experience is that I am grateful I have never broken a bone.  The closest I’ve come is having torn the ligaments in my left ankle some years back.  Accidents happen in the blink of an eye, I tell you.  One minute I was strolling along admiring the Tsitsikamma scenery, the next minute I stepped wrong and bam, swollen blue ankle.  I don’t care who-, or how old you are, unless you have some serious psychological illness, you don’t hurt yourself on purpose or you might suffer from Munchausen Syndrome, but then you’re merely only pretending to be sick.  The bad thing is, an injury like torn ligaments, tendons and broken bones have repercussions for the rest of your life and they get worse as you age.   It’s almost three years down the line and I still have issues when it comes to walking long distances, even more so on uneven ground.

Okay, getting back to The Toppie… the whole ordeal took the obvious physical toll on him, but for the few days he was at home, The Bean and I were very concerned about his mental state too.  He was understandably frustrated because he had to do everything with his left hand, but clearly worried about stuff too.  At one stage I wanted to start calling him Snappy.

He went back to the hospital on December 28th, eleven days after the fall and the temporary cast was removed.  Not all good news, but not morbidly dark report either.  After new x-rays were taken, they showed the bone had moved into the right position and there appeared to be no visible swelling.  The doctor on duty also sent the images to another doctor in a neighbouring town who looked at them too.  Both were satisfied with the progress to date.  The concerning factor was that the open wound on the forearm hadn’t closed entirely and to prevent infection The Toppie was given a course of antibiotics, a petroleum jelly gauze was applied and then he got a proper, hard, plaster cast.  It turned out to be quite a bit heavier than the temporary one and the sling the hospital had given him, did zero to support it.  Uncle Barry lent him a fancy adjustable one, like the one pictured below, which made a mountain of difference, because it reduced a lot of the discomfort.

03s0101-broken-arm-envelope-sling-for-injuries-front

 

He got asked to come into work during his sick leave tenure to help out, driving with one arm, potentially risking not only his own life behind the wheel, but those of other road users too.  Obstinate! He continued to help out, because in our Sleepy Hollow town, December and January are particularly busy months. This resultd in him ending up working for almost two of the three weeks he was booked off.  He said though that the team of ladies he supervises were stellarly helpful, not allowing him to do anything that might result in him causing himself further injury.  It did help a bit to keep his mind occupied at least.

Last weekend when I visited there, he mentioned that his left arm is starting to ache, so much so, that he even started drinking the pain medication again, after having weaned himself off it.  I’m of the personal opinion it is because he has overcompensated with it because he stubbornly hasn’t heeded medical warning, but he swats my words away like an irritating blow fly.

The next appointment is set for February 1st.  The cast is due to be removed during that visit, and new x-rays will be taken and further action, if necessary.  In the meantime, we’re all trying to stay positive and hope for the best.  One thing I will tell you though is every time any one of us has to go down the stairs, the other two parties in the house shout, “Be careful on the stairs!”  Even more so when there’s been a bit of rain because as I mentioned earlier, accidents happen in a split second.

To each one of you reading this, who have sent well wishes and other forms of support, thank you!  It is a comfort to know that there are still some real people out there that do care.