So after all the drama, the blood results say I do not have sarcoidosis again. I wrote that in my best Jerry Springer ‘You are not the father’ voice…
Obviously I am relieved. I hate going through this worry every time something happens to raise the concern again. It’s very difficult not to get worried but I guess when I’ve been doing this for another few years, I’ll get used to it. The boyf in that very pragmatic approach he has to things reminded me that much as may feel it’s a pain in the batty and an intrusion, it’s a side effect of what I have had and it’s just the medical establishment being precautionary. Better they check things rather than cause me to end up with seriously diminished eyesight like they did before and call it a ‘mild eye infection’….
Jaysus I am a bitch sometimes!
Thirty two came and went in a chilled day followed by dinner with the crackerjacks – the bro (Uncle Titty), little bro, and my ma.
We’d only been there a hot minute before my ma caught the boyf rolling his eyes mischievously at one of her wide sweeping statementa and tried to throw a napkin at him, missed, and landed at the table behind us. Everyone was in stitches laughing as my ma who always says ‘I used to throw the javelin with Tessa Sanderson’ seemed surprised that she’s an overzealous thrower….
We went to an Argentinian steak restaurant that we went to for one of our Christmas shindigs. The food had been previously amazing so we could hardly wait. It was like night and fricking day! The bread was hard, stuff was being mircowaved, and we were served food that looked like we were at a greasy spoon! The boyf doesn’t normally get annoyed about stuff (like the way I do) but he was p*ssed off.
But…he doesn’t like making a scene…or harping on about it…like my ma does…
The manager came over and my ma told him off saying how the food was awful and that even the bread was hard.
‘Look! You could stab someone with this bread!’ and she grabbed his arm and jabbed it at his wrist. We all (including him) dissolved into giggles.
They’d mentioned that the card machine had broken and my ma initially made noises about going to the cash machine and then it became clear that she was waiting for me to pay for the meal. ‘I don’t carry cash!’ she announced in tones that could rival the Queen. She always says this which is silly because you always need to have some cash just in case… But I thought I’d test to see if she was actually going to go to the cash machine as she kept insisting she was, so I gave the boyf’s cash to him and waited to see what would happen.
I turned away for a moment when all I hear is the bambino, ‘Here Nana! Money!’ and I turned around to see that she’d only gone in my bag, gone through my purse and handed my ma forty quid! I was incredulous and choking back laughter! I can’t get away with anything!
I’m thirty two in a couple of days and as a testament to how overloaded my brain is and how tired I am, I actually thought it was on Wednesday. I’m not even doing anything proper for it which is a first as I always do something but I just can’t be arsed! In the days before the kids and working for myself, I knew when my birthday was, had something planned and always knew when the bank holidays were – now the weekends are merging into my week! I need a frickin’ holiday! I stayed in bed most of yesterday afternoon in a bit of a funk – think it’s a mixture of tiredness, bit of worry, and God knows what. I’m fine now though, mostly as the boyf made me get up and have a laugh, putting some perspective on things.
I think I’m having a mid life crisis or something but I think I have said that each birthday since I started this blog (jaysus I’ve had six birthdays on this blog!). I’m just being moody and melodramatic! And yes…I did have the blood test. The results are on Wednesday. The boyf was not impressed when I told him that I’d bunked off – he just didn’t get why I’d do something like that when the quickest route to putting myself out of my misery would be to have the blood test!
The bambino has entered the stage of non stop yabbering and questions.
What’s wrong? Where are you going? What are you doing? What ya doing? What you saying? Why you saying what you’re saying? Where’s the biscuits? I want Charlie and Lola! Where’s daddy? I want a drink! Where’s your bag mommom? I want a story. SIT DOWN MUMMY! LIE DOWN MUMMY! Mummy, draw apple! No mummy, this one! (Hands me a red marker) No mummy, now this one! (Snatches the red marker and swaps it for a blue…) Are you OK? Don’t wanna sleep! I want brush the teeth. No mummy like this! MY MONEY! No, it’s not your money! Ha, ha! Silly mummy! Mummy! Daddy not doing it! NO mummy! I want eat not milk! Mummy there’s a dinosaur!
She’s almost 26 months…I thought it would be a while before this started…I’m now nervous of what the 27th month will bring. Will she be asking me if she can stay out past her 7.30 pm curfew? Will she be borrowing my clothes and hogging the phone? Jaysus! I’m being outfoxed by a mini-me!
Baby Moochie just wants to be suckered to my boob all day. I’ve explained to her that there’s a great big world out there beyond two bouncy brown breasty pillows of milk…
I made a tit out myself in Waitrose again a few days ago but it was only as I was explaining it to Uncle Titty (the bro) that I realised just how ridiculous it was.
I’d only popped in for a few things and next thing I’d racked up just over twenty quid. As soon as I opened my wallet, my heart sank.
Ah feck! I’ve left the debit card at the bottom of my handbag…on the sofa. Oh I know, I’ll use the spare account for miscellaneous ‘emergencies’…Oh arse! The boyf forgot to put the cash in the account yesterday. Oh I know, I’ll use the emergency credit card… Thank God that’s gone through. WHAT!!! It’s cancelled! Oh…the card has expired…. oh arse, feck, bollox, numpty, feck, feck, feck! I can’t remember the pins on any of the other cards!
Then I had to go through the rigmarole of taking things out the basket as I only had £16 on me. Scarlet O’Hara I was, but then they’re well used to me as I kept forgetting my purse when I was pregnant…
I got home and told Uncle Titty who was keeping an eye on the girls for me.
“OH NO!” he said horrified when I explained. “I’ll go back for you and get them! What did you have to leave behind? Was it dinner stuff?”
“Oh…er…a copy of Elle Decoration magazine…four packets of Haribo sweets (on a buy one get one free – was going to hide as a secret stash in my ‘office’), a four pack of eclairs…er….never mind!”
I admit it…I bunked off my blood test this morning. I was decent enough to call and say I was unwell hence me not being able to make it but the truth is, I couldn’t be arsed and I’ve spent so much time secretly worrying about going that I thought it was better to stay home and vacuum the bedroom – doing housework rather than going out just goes to show that I must be stressed. What next? Dusting the entire house?
And then you’re like, what the eff are you talking about? What blood test?
Ah…it’s that time again when the ‘ole sarcoidosis worry rears its ugly head. I’m just over three months since I had the baby and just like with the bambino, as a precautionary measure, they’ll check my blood. Problem is that all the swine flu talk plus a mystery rash amongst a few other oddities has me feeling a bit…well…paranoid.
I’ve been in remission for over three years but no matter how much I have cast away the sarcoidosis, it comes back time and again because each time there is something wrong with me, the doctors bring it up and when the hospital cocked up by not assessing me properly in the last few weeks of the pregnancy, the cheeky bastards covered it up in the notes by saying it was my sarcoidosis why they had said I had to have an elective c-section – it wasn’t. The baby wasn’t in the right position and starting labour could have caused the cord to come down, big risks and yada, yada, yawn… But because it had been picked up by my midwife and they’d ignored it at a recent consultation, it seemed better to blame the mystery disease….
As far as I’m concerned I don’t have sarcoidosis but that’s not how the medical establishment see it, so when I had a mild eye infection during the pregnancy, I didn’t say anything about the ‘pre-existing medical condition’. I was in the pharmacy when they got a call asking me to come back to the office and when I got in there, the head doctor plus the one I’d just seen were waiting for me, and twenty minutes later, they had me cacking myself that I may be having a flare up again. I hate this.
And this is the problem really. I have a mystery immune system disease (you know I don’t like saying the D word) that has symptoms that get mistaken for more common things…like flu…
I realise I can never just be ‘ill’ – there’s always the possibility that my ‘flu’ is indicative of my immune system deciding to do a nosedive and attack all my good organs… The first time they’ll take me seriously is when I’m near blind and can barely walk or breathe like the last time…
I’ve stopped listening to the news with all the swine flu talk because I’m one of those people with an underlying condition and potentially high risk. There, I said it.
I’m young (ish) – I’ll be thirty feckin two next week but that’s a whole other story – and all this flu stuff and sarcoidosis flare up paranoia has me worrying because I like living and being able bodied for my kids, not having my arse ridden like Zorro by some stupid disease.
I will go for the blood test because at least I can rule it out or tackle it if there is something to worry about, plus when the boyf finds out, he’ll hustle me down to the docs because he won’t want me worrying (and moaning).
Back soon….
Jaysus time has slipped through my fingers again! So much has gone on and I feel finally ready to say that the man who allowed me to win dancing competitions, created many a hilarious moment within my family, and triggered me acting silly in many a nightclub, party, and karaoke session has gone. I don’t think I realised quite how much of a MJ fan people think I am until I got loads of messages and emails of condolences from people!
My crackerjack family manage to bring him up in a lot of conversations and on Saturday, my mum reduced us (including the boyfs mum) to hysterics with her latest antics. Seemingly, on the day of the MJ memorial, my ma got little bro to put every single MJ song possible on her ipod and blasted him out all day. She watched the memorial, cried her eyes out and went off to bed. Just after midnight, my mum was startled out her sleep when MJ’s Thriller suddenly came blaring out of the speakers! Terrified, she raced into little bro’s room screaming her head off in panic and he had to come and calm her down. She was convinced that she had some sort of visit from him and the more she insisted is the harder we laughed!
At this stage of the story, the boyf and I were howling with laughter and when he finally managed to calm himself, he said to her “But what I want to know is, why would Michael Jackson choose you out of all the gazillions of people to pay a visit to on the night of his memorial?!” which only made us laugh even harder! Little bro insists that my mum accidentally set her ipod alarm for just after midnight but I think she’s sticking to having got a personal visit!
Our families have also decided to do a mini syndicate for the lottery. My ma organised the proceedings and she wrote out all the numbers and they were drawn out of the bambino’s Charlie and Lola rucksack….as my mum said “Hee hee!” in her best MJ voice after every number was drawn.
In another hilarious moment of family hilarity, my ma stared down Ethan Hawke, yes the actor, at the Science Museum. The bro (Uncle Titty), little bro, my ma and myself and the girls were queuing for the lift when he approached with his wife, his two kids that he had with Uma Thurman, and a very gorgeous blonde toddler boy in a pushchair. He sidled past us to slink in front and turned to find nana’s eyes of thunder on him.
“I’ll…er…let you go ahead” he said nervously and then stared at us as if to say “Can’t you see I’m effing Ethan Hawke?” Well actually I could, but no-one else did….
I naturally quickly Twittered the episode (I’m sure he sussed me) and what followed was a very uncomfortable few moments in the lift where he kept staring with a bit of a scowl as my mum tutted about bad manners.
After he got out on his floor, I cracked up laughing and said to her “I can’t believe you just scared Ethan Hawke?!”
“Who?” she said blankly.
“The actor?” Cue tumbleweeds. “He’s been in…ur…I can’t remember which films but he was married to Uma Thurman”
“HIM! That cheeky feck! I should have given him a piece of my mind! Who the hell does he think he is pushing in front of my grandchildren?” Cue muchos giggles from everyone including one of the museum attendants. The more she thought about it, the more indignant she became!
“Ma!” I exclaimed. “He’s gone now so you missed your chance!”
“I bet if it had been Michael Jackson he’d have waited!” It was the day after he died so you can imagine how much chat there was. She then started singing Beat It….
There was a few minutes earlier when the boyf and I were discussing the bambino and how we’re going to have be firmer, as she’s fast learning how to run rings around us. For starters, we’re gonna have to crack down on the bed situation as she keeps rocking up in the middle of the night since about a month before her little sister was born. We could probably hack it more if she didn’t either, 1, swan into the room as if it was the middle of the day gaily saying “Hallo mummy! Hallo daddy! He-lll-o!” which startles me out of my sleep, or 2, yell for me from her bed as if needing permission to do what she’s already been doing for the past few months!
When I got up this morning, my dad, who has finally returned like the prodigal father to finish off the overdue DIY (more on that later) said “I heard the bambino yelling for you last night at about quarter to three. I was laughing to myself when she got all sarcastic with you!”
Yes, my not even two years and one month old child has discovered sarcasm…even at 3am…and when I didn’t respond quickly enough, she got all snippy with me!
We’ve agreed that if we’re awake and she strolls in, she’s going to be taken back to her own bed each time along with clamping down on demands for ‘bisquits’…
Afterwards the boyf said “Gosh, we sounded like proper parents for a few minutes there!” and we both giggled. I think we still have bemused moments where we look around us at signs of being overrun by a couple of kids and still can barely believe it!
I threatened to disown my father ‘Gwandad’ last night which gave him something to stutter and flap his mouth over. It’s no secret on here that my family are crackers, albeit in an often funny way, but he’s forced me to play the ‘disowning card’ because a few days before I went off to have the baby, he told me he was popping home (Wolverhampton) and would be back in a few days to finish all the jobs he’d promised to do…and returned a couple of days ago! The child was born over 9 weeks ago!
“Because you didn’t come back, I painted the shelves in their room myself and botched up the wallpaper AND THEN when I was leaving the room, the tin of gloss tipped over, burst open, and wrecked the feckin’ carpet in the hall!” I seethed at him.
Anyway, he’s back now, and of course he sprung it on me that he has to pop to my aunts for a couple of days to finish a job there and then he’s back till mid next week. I’m going to have to rename him as ‘Flake’ if he’s not careful…
“You’d better not be pulling a swift one one me! I have my eye on you!” and we laughed. “I mean it! If you don’t come back, I’m divorcing you!” I threatened.
“Er, don’t you mean disowning me?” he said and we all howled with laughter.
“Yeah yeah…you know exactly what I mean!”
I have got to stop mixing up my words! I called a guy a ‘d*ckstick’ when I meant dipstick… I blame parenthood…It’s mashed my brain…