Poking through the clouds...

This week has been an utter write off. I have been rather...ill? Nothing majorly serious, just some virus that kept me in bed for most of the week.

Yesterday was a beautiful day; and today hopes to bring more of it. Hopefully, we'll get a chance to clean up outside a little, play some footy and later even have a nanna nap. Then a roast dinner, lunches etc and get the house back to normal all ready for the week.

Dad thinks he might even come into work tomorrow. We all know he'll come in, sook about how things weren't always done *his* way, open the mail and then go home. But, he'll have thought himself 'well enough to come to work'. But he's improving - really improving.

Not much else going on around here; lots of thoughts running around my head and it's a little struggle at the minute to pin them down. It feels nicer that they are flowing around and not stopped and examined. I should do it more often!

He's OK

Now I've fallen on my butt. Worry about someone else for too long and I tell you, your own immune system will punish you severely.

Will write more later; but I thought I'd better just update. Thank you all for your incredible thoughts; they were much appreciated.

Outside my father being ill, things are going along as standard. R is doing very well at school - his reading ability is out of this world and he is just the personality that is so well suited to the school environment. He's had 3 awards at school, and is just plodding along. No school politics for Riley - he's friendly with everyone and doesn't have a bad word to say about anyone.

One grommet has fallen out and one is due to fall out. And the best bit is that, this time, there is very little difference in him socially. When he lost the first set, I could have just about told you the hour in the day - the difference was just so BIG and so IMMEDIATE. This time; I can barely tell. Which means the tubes are finally dropping.

The specialist wants us to wait until October before we get another audiology report - we need to wait for the other grommet to drop out first (which may have already happened) and see what happens with the tubes. Inserting too many sets of grommets create scar tissue that could well cause future hearing problems - so it's very much a case of cost/benefit analysis at the minute. Bernie really feels that the tubes will drop sufficiently enough soon on their own; and the difference in him isn't enough to justify risking more hearing problems yet. It sounds weird when it's written down; but he made perfect sense to me.

Connor. Bloody Connor. If I don't laugh, I'll cry over that kid, I swear it. He's just so much work. His attention span is about 5 seconds long and he's such a lively and passionate kid; he's like a mental walking cyclone. You chop and change what he wants 35 times a day and chucks a wobbly because he doesn't want to do something - and then you say 'ok, lets have a banana then' and he chucks another wobbly because he wants the peaches.

He's loving kinder - mostly because it's the ideal environment to chop and change every 30 seconds. It's play based too; so it's all just a great place to whirl around cyclone style with a thousand other kids.

Me? I'm ok. I put myself on the bottom of the 'look after' list again - and it was something that I am a little disappointed with - but the gap between 'ah, hang on' and 'lets get moving' is shortening with time.

My relationships are very good at the minute. We are team working and are laughing together; it feels almost the same as it used to. But, it's like what happened turned us both into grownups.

He's off for the Queens birthday weekend - annual cray fishing boys only expedition. He's taking the kids to his mothers whilst I attend our annual Mafia Bash. The mafia bash is a dinner dance which is put on by the Lions Club which backs our biggest clients. All I will say is that they are big time loaded; and you don't get that loaded by doing what they do. So, each year we attend in good faith because we should and after 10 years of these nights; it's like groundhog day.

The first few we all really cared - went all out with dresses and limos and yada yada. This year? Pants, shirt and jacket with my sister driving. Awesome; when I'd rather be here.

But the rest of the weekend is for me alone. I am making NO plans and doing whatever *I* feel like. The dog, the cat and I will simply do what we want to do. The cat can sleep on the kids couch and the dog can do as he pleases without being mauled.

So, apart from dad, it's all pretty good.

Quick update

He's being put into hospital on Monday - his hospital of choice wasn't availiable until then. So, on Monday he'll have 10 LITRES removed.

Short term/Medium term - the specialist has changed his medication. Whether that works or not remains to be seen, but the specialist is hopeful.

Otherwise Plan C. Start the talk of transplants. Yeah. Good luck with that.

So, up & down - but he's not going to keel over on me over the weekend.d

Daddy

I'm so worried about what today will bring. I fear mostly that my strong, never-say-die, invincible father, will end up with something that, not only can't be fixed, but can't even be managed. What he has isn't easily treated - and Plan A failed. Plan C won't happen - not in his lifetime anyway. So a great deal will hinge on Plan B.

He went to the GP Monday with the expectation that Bill would just double his dose again and he would go home and everything would be fine. Not quite. There is a limit to what this medication will do - and it appears that, in his case, we have reached that limit. Adding more to it will do very little (nothing) and put even more stress on what already is a stressed out organ. So, since Monday, he's had to suck it up.

I went to Mums yesterday morning on the way to work; to 'drop off some spagetti tins' (read: to see how he was). He was in bed when I got there. The central heater was set at 28 (my POOR mother!!) and he was in bed fully clothed. Just before I left I went in to say goodbye - and honest to god he looked like he was about to die. Just so pale and frail and still.

I got in the car and, for the first time, howled. And, for the first time, contemplated my fathers invincibility. He could not get out of this one. He's come through so much in his life; and has done so much for so many - he cannot end in this pissy, awful way.

Today is the specialist appointment. We fully expect that he'll be in hospital tonight or tomorrow - I'll be disappointed and upset if he's not. He is very unwell and should be, at the very least, drained and then monitored.

Everything changes if this is really bad news. Everything.

What I have learnt

1. Nothing matters much when your dad, Mr Invincible is sick. Pretty sick at that.

2. Dreams are not real - crying over a dream that is not real makes no difference. Those feelings of utter humiliation are still with me.

3. Not eating contributes to weight gain. If I could be bothered, I'd elaborate.

4. Eating the wrong foods contribute to my mental health

5. Refer #1.

Change your perspective, change your world

Instead of being a big sooky la la about life; I need to jump in the deep end and change what I don't like. I know what I want to do; I know how to do it - now, all that's left, is to just jump in and do it.

The doing bit is the hardest. And, quite frankly, I don't even know why. It sounds easy on paper; eat this, do that and you will have your result in 12 weeks. But those 12 weeks seem to taper off - and they seem so damn long!!!

I need to make so many changes in so many aspects of my life; the weight is just the beginning. I can see though; once that comes off, so much more will follow. My headspace, my zest - many many things will be be possible.

I will admit here (nowhere else mind you!!) that I am scared. Of change. The habits of old, whilst obviously bad, are comforting. I like knowing where I'll be tomorrow, even if I don't like where that is.

And, I'm really REALLY starting to not like where I'll be tomorrow. And tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. And it is there that lies the problem. I can't like the knowing of something if it is no longer preferable to the unknown.

I have a funny feeling that these changes will turn my life upside down. And, I think that is where I am most fearful. I want to know what changes will take place - not the physical aspect, but the mental. What will I think of myself? My friends? My relationships? Will I still think and feel the same about them all? Whilst most of me really hopes so, there is a devils advocate in there wondering what if. And, if you are a long term reader of this blog, you'll know that what if and me do NOT have a great history.

But, I'm going to 'feel the fear and do it anyway'. I feel stagnant; backed into a corner and even that lucky last door is shrinking. This cannot be all there is to life.

Small changes are being made in small steps. I am starting to trust myself and find my direction (both literally and figuratively - I got to my friends all BY MYSELF on Friday night without getting lost and felt ridiculously proud of that) - and each time I do, I find a little bit more of that door opens.

The problem though; I simply don't fit. This fat person ain't going to fit through that new door.

Fat

I feel awful. Fat, frumpy and stuck in a corner. It's as though I have a choice to make; either change it NOW - or 'this is your life' forever more. And the thought that this could be me forever more scares the bejesus out of me.

So, I have to change it. I can't live like this anymore and I need to stop lying to myself.

Holiday was grand; more on that when I get a little more than 5 minutes to myself.

xxxx