Archive for the ‘Talks with myself’ Category

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Protected: It’s heavy…and I am tired

18 July , 2021

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Protected: A tiny wallow

12 February , 2021

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The madness continues

4 August , 2020

So…Frankenboob is definitely on the cards. I had my follow up yesterday and the surgeon says it has to be done and ideally in the next month.

Great…not. Let’s put aside the emotional toll of this situation purely in how I think of my breasts, and focus for a moment on the emotional toll of all the admin involved in having myself mutalated. I have to fight for this thing that I’m not even sure I want. I have inner conflict and lots of it.

So all I have to do is figure out the series of secret handshakes needed by my Medical Aid to get authorisation for the procedure. They really don’t make it easy. I get a different sort of pain just thinking about the “process” I’ve been introduced to.

Also, on the new work front, I am starting to suspect I’m not built for shift work. The pace is insane! So I’m customer servicing all night and battling the Medical Aid by day. There is not much time for sleeping in between all of this. On top of all that, Nicola is often semi-histerical about me not being able to either be there for bedtime or there for homework during the day.

This would be a bit easier if I was an insomniac, but I’m not.

Anyhoo, enough of my whining. *yawn* I will take my self-pity and go and dunk it in a steaming hot bath. Everything looks better after a bubble bath. And then I’m going to disable all my alarms and sleep for more than 1.5 hours for a change.

Fuck. It. All.

There is only so much of me to go around, and that’s all there is to it.

How’s lockdown life treating you so far? Feels like we’re a thousand days into this, but it’s probably somewhere between 100 and 200 (we stopped counting at about 50 I think).

I’ve updated my life insurances, so on the off chance that I do somehow work myself to death, at least that is sorted out already.

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Oh good…more lemons

31 July , 2020

Do you remember this? Haha, well it’s back. Fuck. Bigger and more painful than ever. In a matter of days it also went from mildly uncomfortable to where my left arm is numb and achy, and I can hardly lift a cup with that hand. I NEED to lift coffee, this won’t do.

So I ended up spending a whole day between doctors on Wednesday. I started off at my GP, thinking that a quick zap of antibiotics might do the trick like it did last time. Nope, he referred to a specialist at Flora Hospital.

The specialist (surgeon), then referred me to radiology for another sonar.

I then had to prance back to the specialist to deliver the results (which I wasn’t supposed to see, but had a look at anyway of course).

And then off to the pharmacy for the most hectic antibiotics I’ve ever had to take.

And then Monday I need to see the specialist again so that he can see if I responded to the meds, and most likely to schedule an operation for the removal of this mess.

All this happened while I was pissing my eyes out, and let me tell you wearing a mask and not being able to blow your nose is not fabulous. Also with Covid-19 still very much around, I got to do it alone because Andy wasn’t allowed to come with me into the hospital.

So the long and short of it if I understand it correctly is that on the upside, it’s not cancer. This is a very big upside, and I am grateful to say the least. The downside is that even though I never had milk to begin with, my milk duct is blocked which caused this recurring bacterial infection, and it has to be removed. Or it will be back.

When the sugeon said he had to cut I said, “Cut off or cut out? Be specific.” So cut out, yay. They’ll lift the nipple and take out what needs going, then frankenstein what’s left together again after. Doc says it’ll be a bit deformed but should even out over time.

Right…of course…”great”.

The pharmacist brought more excitement, which to be honest I wasn’t expecting. She first asked if I was very sporty. Hahahaha, err no. Apparently this stuff makes your ligaments brittle for about a month. So nothing strenuous, and no falling. Oh yes, and I have to drink 3.5 liters of water a day or it will form crystals. Not sure where, but it sounds unpleasant. I’m going to be spending a lot of time on the loo! Luckily there are no steps on the way there, since the stuff holding me together is now brittle!

Oh, and for what may or may not be my final-ish rant on this: my medical aid only kicks in on the 1st of August, and doesn’t cover anything in this hospital unless it happens in the ER. No one has actually done anything but feel me up and write scripts, and we’re already clocking over R4000 in bills.

There are workarounds for this I guess. I need to wait till Saturday and ask the medical aid to point me at a specialist that they do cover. Or I need to win the Lotto between now and next week.

New job going great, by the way. They’re especially thrilled about me kicking it off with some sick leave (that I don’t have yet). I’m also not discussing my problem boob gutter with my twenty-something manager who has only been working for two months and is dealing with his first team under him ever, so I’ve referred to it only as chest pains. He might possibly be under the impression that it’s my heart giving me issues, and I’m not going to be clarifying that at this point.

I am now at the laughing point of my hysterics. Feel free to join in if the spirit moves you.

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And exhale

26 June , 2020

So, I don’t think I’ve harped on too much about it (if I have, sorry). Anyhoo, I was retrenched last year September, and although I’ve picked up the odd bit of contract work here and there, for the better part of a year I’ve been up the creek without a paddle unemployed.

Now with the apocalypse and what came with it, and also the fact that we still plan to fly the coop as soon as possible the only things you could even attempt to apply for have been in hospitals and mines. I live with three high risk people in the house, I’ll starve before I put them at risk like that intentionally.

It’s been tense. We were just barely breaking even before retrechment, and after letting go of everything that could be let go, we went into apocalypse with just about enough to buy plane tickets for all three of us. Mid apocalypse we have had to live on that sadly, so yeah…tense, tense, tense.

I applied for a work from home gig about a month ago. I didn’t really hold out hope for it to come through, but I had some time to kill between baking banana bread and trying to coax life into a veggie garden in the worst season imaginable for such things.

Suprisingly I aced the assessment, but the next steps by HR took up the rest of the last month. Actually, they’ve been so slow in this that I’d actually completely given up on it yesterday and moved the last correspondence from the “Needs Action” part of my Inbox to the abyss that is my archive folders.

And just like that “a watched pot never boils” proved true. I got the job this afternoon. Starting mid July! Hopefully this will get us to break even again, and I’ll McGuyver a Plan B for move money somehow once I can breathe again.

I can’t tell you what a relief this is. I’m going to have a little sob later when I have some quiet time and spend some time on my knees saying thank you.

For those people who’ve recently lost their jobs due to Covid, and who might only be starting their own spin cycles of stress now (who very likely don’t even have such an amazing support structure as I do). You really do have all my sympathy. Hang in there!