stress on another level

I thought I was wound up and stressed out and I couldn’t get any worse. Perhaps thinking that is what got old God upstairs wringing His hands and thinking, “Oh ho, she thinks she’s got it bad now?! Well, let’s up it a notch…”

Yes. I have just felt stress on a whole other level entirely!

Somehow, and it beats me what the hell I did, I managed to get subtitles on my telly.

You have no idea JUST HOW LONG it took to figure out the flipping remote control and navigate the menu system in order to get subtitles off again!! And I still don’t know what I pressed to make them go away!

cleaning up the act

It takes shit sometimes to knock some sense into you.

I never really gave my body a second thought before now, because, hell, I’m 24 and reasonably fit. I can’t run 5km, but I’m not overweight, my skin is in good nick, I don’t get out of breath walking up stairs. I never thought that anything like what has happened would ever, ever happen to me.

Have you ever seen those adverts on the London Underground, the ones above people’s heads inside the carriages. There are two that I have seen. Both show a woman in tears, sitting on the tube. Both have the words “I remember the day I found out…” They both have a blurb of text on them. One details how a woman felt when she was diagnosed with cancer. The other explains how another person felt the day that they were given the all clear. Seeing those (and we are talking over a year ago before this became serious for me), it crossed my mind that ONE DAY I might POSSIBLY get some form of cancer. The stats are 1 in 3, and that’s not good. Let’s be honest.

But I never thought that I would be where I am right now, with the very real worries that I have.

I have treated my body with enormous disrespect over the years. I drink too much. I eat junk. I don’t exercise. I never get enough sleep. I run from here to there. I am never at home (this afternoon is quiet bliss). I am always hacked off. I say: “Well, that is what life is like for a twenty-something these days. Life is fast and furious.” I may not realise it, but I am always under huge stress. After longterm ex, I had a mad period where, possibly due to self-loathing, I slept around a bit. I used protection apart from once. I headed down to the GUM clinic and all was fine. In relationships with longterm partners, I have done away with condoms after a while because they “got in the way” (literally and figuratively speaking). It never dawned on me (until one charmer of an ex passed on a delightful disease) that I was putting myself at risk – because I trusted them.

I can’t undo the past and it weighs heavy. I wonder what damage I have done? I wonder what other horrible surprises may be in store in my future? All because I didn’t take care of myself.

So, not drinking over Christmas is a good thing. I might have a small glass with dinner on Christmas Day but it will be the day after my ABs finish so heavy drinking is out. I need to sort my life out and go into damage limitation mode. This post is more for me than anyone else. I need to come back and read it and remind myself when I am feeling weak and want to drink a bottle of the red stuff alone or order another Pizza Hut. They say that too many changes in one go increases your chances of failure, but what else can I do??

hospitals – i ought to pay rent

Well, I wouldn’t expect too much out of me today. I have been in hospital all morning. I’ll spare you the details (trust me), but I was a ball of nerves all night. There is so much whirling through my head. When I left (after 3 hours), clutching yet more drugs (same drug, slightly different dose), I felt a bit calmer but then I did a stupid thing and hunted about online… and now I am all het up again. I won’t tell you what has upset me – it’s not something I would feel comfortable sharing. Tomorrow I am in another hospital for a general STI screen (well, paranoia does that to you so I’m getting rechecked. Hell, it is my annual leave, and I’ll waste it in waiting rooms if it gets me increased peace of mind). As I’ll be seeing a gynae doc, I will run my fears by them as well for the second (third??) opinion.

Otherwise, it’s sit tight until May.

God, I hate being a woman.

Dan, you may also be pleased to read that I am now taking the medication. Ok, so I can’t drink at my party or on Christmas Eve, but whatever. Maybe I won’t put on a tonne over the festive period. The Christmas Eve thing is almost a blessing in disguise because I can drive without feeling deprived by not drinking, AND it means that I can get 4 other mates home safe and sound that night.

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what happened?

The short version:

1. I met up wih Beardy. I was in a great mood because of my hat and my little skirt and the fact that I thought I was looking pretty nice so I felt full of beans and confidence. He agreed that I looked gorgeous. We went and bought him new shoes, then we went to The Coal Hole for a drink, and then we went for food in Covent Garden. We had a lovely time, just chilling and laughing and talking and eating and drinking wine. And drinking wine. And drinking wine. So then we had a HUGE fight. In the middle of the restaurant. About Fat Fuck Housemate of his who HATES my guts and has done since I met him at uni. Well, fuck him. If I am ever unlucky enough to be in his fat fuck company again I will let rip about what a fat fuck he is. Anyway, somehow we managed to rescue the evening and we went to the Ship and Shovel for more drinks, before parting on the Northern Line. Not before agreeing that it had, all in all, been a good evening.  My head is a bit doolally.

2. On returning home, I managed to type a typo-less email to FM, subject line (for tender’s benefit): Quits. I am amazed at the clarity of language and perfect spelling and grammar given the amount I had drunk. Anyway, in aforementioned email, I said that I didn’t understand him or quite what I had done, but that this would be the last attempt I would make at contacting him again. Thanked him for the support and distraction from health issues, and wished him a happy new year. Signed off “Jerkface” (which is where the alcohol came shining through).

Passed out.

End of story. (Of last night anyway. There’s a new segment to add today. See new post).

tears on my pillow

I am a jerk.

I feel shit as.

Which one?

Both.

I kissed one goodbye. He never need reply, but it means that even if he doesn’t, I got out graciously. I promise you, you would be proud of me. It doesn’t matter that I’m scooping my heart into a bucket and leaving it at the top of the stairs. I did what was right.

And the other?

Fucked.

Well, 2008 isn’t far away.

I suppose.

boo, nasty antibiotics

Hellooooo! I hate blogspot so I am migrating to here… just for another two weeks, then back to the Old Home. Besides, have had too many complaints that people are having problems with Blogger sooooo, I wouldn’t want you lot inconvenienced now

Right, this has to be short and sweet because I am busy. I nearly typed busty there. The little boobies are looking good today but not quite busty. I have some silly photos from last night where I am looking at my boobies, so when I get my camera back (because I am an idiot I left it in The Doctor’s bed, ooh er missus! Um, no story there. I was just too flaky to remember to take it home today), I will post one or two.

First things first. My lady donut is a pain in the arse. Well, not in the arse. In the lady region. !!!!! Was in hospital aaaall flipping afternoon. Bah. The new hospital has not managed to get my results from the old hospital. This is not good. It also shows that there is no hope for us poor patients if even the docs can’t speed the process up. Bah again. The news is not fab. There is something not right going on. They can’t really tell much as it’s still a bit of a war zone up there (well, not going to mince my words) and I appear to be making a right meal of healing. Typical. My body can’t just DO THINGS NORMALLY CAN IT!!!!! So, I have been sent away with a fat old prescription of a naaaasty antibiotics thingy which, sadly, is one of the few that make you VIOLENTLY ILL if you so much as sniff a drop of alcohol while taking them.

Oh shitty.

The rest of the week hangs around drinking. Tomorrow is a leaving do lunch and afternoon piss up. Thursday is an afternoon drinking sesh. Friday sees celebrations with Donald, and on Saturday we are holding a mulled wine and mince pie party at our little house. Oh. Bummer. So, I called The Doctor (my friend, not the hospital doctor) and quizzed him at length about my options. I am not starting the course until Boxing Day now. I can’t drink then anyway, as I have to drive and my social life between Boxing Day and 30th (end of course) is dead plus I have loads of work to do so that works out. We reasoned that if I hadn’t had my appointment today, I wouldn’t have been given the ABs anyway and the infection isn’t life threatening, it’s just a bit of a bummer. I mean, I have been like it for 7 weeks as it is… one won’t make a difference. So that will all be out of the way in time for the New Year night out too. Then I have to go back in 5 months (woo, just in time for my silly 10km run) and they will have a proper poke about and tell me if I really am ok. So, better hope for the best eh!

After being mauled and abused and then waiting about for my prescription (incidentally, I felt A LOT safer at Chelsea and Westminster than at St Georges, people seemed to have a vague idea about what they were doing which is always helpful), I decided some retail therapy was in order. I mean, a girl deserves a treat after all this crap! So, I blasted some money in Accessorise (the EVIL DEMON MAKES YOU SPEND ALLLLLLL YOUR MONEY shop) on a fantabulous new bag and a totally super hat, plus some sparkly goodies as well. Wonderful. And I got new shampoo in Boots as the Aussie range is on offer. Top stuff.

Now I have to go and beautify myself and then wear my new hat to go for a drink with Beardy. This will be the last time I see him as 2008 is rapidly approaching and it’s bye bye Beardy and bye bye Dickhead Fire Man.

If you read this before 5.15pm today, I will be NAKED!! HAHAHAHAH

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So, this is where the passworded posts will go. One blog across two platforms…