Life's Rich Tapestry: June 2007

Friday, June 29, 2007

Fragmented Spice

I've been trying to come up with a sizable topic for today's post, but my head is full of fragmented pieces of information that can't be stretch into anything worth writing about. So if I have to live with snippets, then by jove, so do you, fnar fnar.

Random piece number 1

My brother is a policeman (no hissing in the cheap seats). Last night whilst on duty he was bitten hard enough to draw blood and need medical attention. A bitch bit him and not the type with 4 legs. After 20 minutes of trying to calm an intoxicated chavette, my brother lost his patience and spoke those infamous words, "right love, you're nicked". She didn't agree with his decision and as a women who obviously likes to get her point across, she literally jumped on him, teeth and nails a blur. He is of course milking it, you know, the typical bad statements, "how can you blame her, all women want a piece of me", *collective groan*

Random piece number 2

For the first time in my life, a social worker completely floored me by speaking the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

"Jilly, I'm so sorry for being such a crap social worker in the past"

Random piece number 3

Thursday rocks because she bought me scrummy products and I want to say thank you publicly, because it will embarrass her. Woe betide the day when I do something positive and don't follow it up with a negative.

Random piece number 4

As expected, neither of Dad's biopsies were good enough. He goes in for the risky operation they were trying to avoid, next Wednesday. I'm ok about it, what will be will be.

Random piece number 5

A large bag of food exploded in my car this morning, I drove 15 miles with melting yogurt covered banana chips all over the floor, dash board, seats and my hair.

Random piece number 6

I am invited to a wedding tomorrow. I hate weddings with a passion, plus I have a church phobia right now. I don't think I'll be going. More cake for everyone else.

Random piece number 7

I recently discovered why the flat next door isn't selling. The old guy that lives beneath it jumps out on any potential buyers and gives them the Spanish inquisition right in front of the accompanying estate agent. I am ashamed to say that I've positively reinforced this behaviour.

Random piece number 8

I've already pestered friends to go and see the Spice Girls on their reunion tour. Don't judge me. Aziggaziggaaa.

Wednesday, June 27, 2007

Tea and crumpets are like, totally awesome dude

American slang words I never used before I started reading blogs;

1. Totally
I totally never used this word, but now I often totally can't help myself.

2. Like
I never use this word in like, 'real life', but I like totally use it when writing.

American slang words that will NEVER sound good when said in an English accent;

1. Awesome
This has got to be the most 'American' sounding word there is. The word awesome said
with an english accent is like, totally cringe worthy.

2. Dude
Unless your are American or Australian, leave dude alone. Those who live in certain
areas of the UK, (Vicky Pollard for instance), may use the word dude
only when referring to a completed task. (eg, I dude the ooovering yesterday)

American slang words I would rather shoot myself in the head than use;

1. Retard
This word offends me, bear this in mind or you may one day get your toes severed.

2. Pooped
It's tired, or knackered. Pooped conjures up nothing more than the image of a human
excreting another human from it's arsehole and there's nothing acceptable about that.

I'm waiting for Henman to start tossing his balls, only apparently tennis players don't toss their balls in the rain or the dark, fussy lot.

Monday, June 25, 2007

More run on sentences. Because I'm rebelling.

On a day when your emotions are running high because you attend a hospital appointment to find out which strain of carcinoid your Dad has, hence finally getting concrete evidence of how long you have left with him, only to be told that the biopsy was 'inconclusive' and that he must go in tomorrow to be completely opened up this time to take another biopsy and that that operation will have a high risk considering his physical state but is necessarily in order to administer drugs to make him more 'comfortable and then you drive your parents home, firstly stopping off at your Grandads to put him in the picture, only your Dad suddenly doubles up in pain and starts to collapse in your Grandads front room, so your Grandad starts to cry and gets very distressed, but you all have to leave him like that because you have to get Dad home and Dad can't wait the 2 minute car journey to take his morphine because he is crippled with pain, so he tries to spoon measure it whilst in your car and deposits half of it on the floor, which now leaves you with a car smelling of a hospital ward

You drop them both off at home, where mum helps dad to bed and you turn around and go back to your Grandads to calm him down, but whilst doing that the phone rings and it's your mother in tears asking you to come back over to her when you are finished at Grandads, so you do and you try to support and console her, but knowing that nothing you can say or do changes the fact that her husband is upstairs with a sunken face and bulging eyes, his skin a ghostly grey and whimpering in pain and she has to see that all day everyday.

You make a telephone call to your brother, telling him that he should come and see his Dad the next morning, just in case he doesn't come around after the operation and your brother sounds strained and upset and all you want to do it reach through the phone and put your arms around him, because you know he is home alone and feeling helpless because he is too far away to pop down in the car and throughout this conversation you are acutely aware of your mothers soft sobs in the next room, so when you replace the receiver you go to comfort her, but just before she rests her head on your shoulder, the telephone rings, it's the hospital, they won't be doing the operation now, it's been decided the risk is too high, so he will be having an endoscopy instead, in which they will try to get another biopsy, which will take 7-10 days to gain results, but it may be inconclusive again and then there will be no other option but the operation and we will all have to wait, wait, wait.

You ring your brother back, to update him. Your mother wants you to go and explain the new course of action to your Grandad, but you don't want to leave her, she is so emotionally drained and will be on her own all day because your Dad ends up staying in bed, only moving momentarily to take morphine and wince in pain, but you do as she says, because that's what she needs you to do, but all you want to do is stay with her, support her, hold her, because leaving her alone feels cruel.

You finally get home and manage to eventually doze off, dreaming the whole time and are eventually awoken by the neighbours banging their doors an hour later. You are feeling a bit better, less uptight, in less pain and the lump in your throat has dissipated. You put a pizza in the oven because you know you should eat something today, you make a couple of quick phone calls to friends and then ring Sarah to catch up. You demand she gives you no sympathy because you can't deal with it, so you both take the piss out of certain acquaintances a little, banter with her husband whose a cheeky, but lovable bint, start to relax and laugh heartily. And then you smell burning.....

Shit, Bugga, Bollocks.

You finish your phone call, your strength and positivity restored, you chuckle at your cooking disaster and decide to be resourceful.

Mr (similar to a blow up dolly) Face.

A virtual fiver for the first person to guess the added ingredients correctly.

You retire to bed, with a glass of milk, only to realise after 3 large gulps that it's as off and rancid as roadkill arse, which induces a swift sprint, (ok, drag) to the toilet bowl, after which you start to laugh inside at the irony of it all and then with a smile on your face, you do what you should have done hours ago, caused someone else grief for your own satisfaction, you slowly torture Mr (similar to a blow up dolly) Face with a pizza wheel. Satisfied smug bastard.

Edited to add; sorry for the grammer, rambling and general disjointedness, putting it politely, my head is slightly fucked today.

Thursday, June 21, 2007

1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10

Just here alone and need to get something off my chest, I don't know whether to be upset or angry.

As I've said here before, I don't have much time for my Grandad, I love him, but I don't like him very much. I know old people become selfish, but Grandad has always been this way, I have heard stories from Dads childhood that makes me respect Dad so much for even still talking to him and I also remember him from my childhood being highly selfish.

I had mum on the phone in tears a while ago, Grandad rang her today...

"I've been up all night worrying about my shrubs, I need Stewart to come and prune them"

"You know he's not well enough Ernie, he's sleeping a lot and on morphine!"

"I know, but can't he take some morphine and then you drive him over quickly so he can get started on them straight away?"

"He's not well enough Ernie, why can't your gardener do it?"

"And how much is THAT going to cost me?"

The man has more money than he knows what to do with, I can't believe he even considered demanding his dying son does his garden so that he can save a tenner, it's beyond words.

Mum did his shopping on Monday and has since gone to the shop twice more to get him things he has rung up and demanded, things that are not essential but that he apparently MUST have. She clearly can't cope with his demands anymore, she is in effect now a carer of three family members and enough is enough I say.

I've ordered her to ring Grandads social worker in the morning and demand someone do his shopping, washing and ironing and the tight selfish bastard will have to pay for it and if I go to hell for saying that, I don't give a fig, he's already lived most of his life and a damn easy privileged one it's been, now it's time for the attention he seeks to stop, it should be all about his son now.

Ahhhhhhhh, the weight, it is slightly lifted, I should be able to settle down and eat my Rusks in relevant calmness. What? I LIKE baby food!

Tuesday, June 19, 2007

Busted

The end of an email I received from my Dad after he looked at this photo and relevant comments on my flickr account.

. . . and who's this Philthy Dog, then? I think him and I need to have a word!!!

Dad xxxxxx

You'd better start running Phil.

In other news, today I savagely stabbed and chopped up my cleaner, she is currently in the wheelie bin, I just couldn't listen to her narrow minded theories and racism for yet another week, anyone fancy coming to keep on top of the hoovering? I promised to be unarmed.

Saturday, June 16, 2007

I hope someone will be standing by with oxygen for her

Terribly sorry folks, I've been at the hospital everyday since I last blogged and have also not been getting an awful lot of sleep, hence I'm zombieish, but without the greasy hair and greyish tinged skin, a Hollywoodesque air brushed zombie if you will.

I bought Dad home today, armed with lots of morphine, which makes me happy, because seeing my father shouting in pain does not make me happy, no, it makes me take off at full speed down the ward to have a wee 'moment' in the corridor, but things are under control now, he is getting periods of comfort, hurrah. Now we have to work on him maintaining his weight, he currently weighs less than my mother, who has the body of Cher, (no really, she does, it's amazing, plus hers is all natural!).

I guess the non Dad speak has gone out of the window, but that's ok, it's not so much of a secret now, to put it bluntly he can't hide it anymore, it's damn obvious, but I still don't want to keep a running commentary on here, simply because I need my sanity and some time to think about something different once in a while.

The real reason I wanted to blog is because someone is doing something wonderful for my Dad and family tomorrow, that someone is Sarah over at Children, Chores and Chocolate and I just wanted to tell da' internet how bloody lovely she is, please go over and give her a 'Yo', cheers.

Tuesday, June 12, 2007

In which I have the screaming ad-dabs

Mum and Dad left Cumbria, (where they have spent a few days ’taking stock’), at 2am this morning for a six hour drive home, giving them plenty of time to recuperate for Dads 3 day hospital stay starting tomorrow. Neither bothered to get any sleep before leaving, Dad doesn’t sleep much before 1am anyway and mum is prone to nervousness before a long journey, simply because dad doesn’t drive and a six hour continuous road trip isn’t something anyone would relish being a lone driver, (well I guess it depends on what’s waiting for you at the other end. Plane to Barbados? A lover? Liposuction?).

I think it important to mention now, that the hospital were fully aware of my parents break away and held strict instructions to contact me should there be any alterations or additions to dads admission. Which then leads me to wonder why the hell mum and dad received a letter in the post at 10.30 this morning with an appointment for a pre op assessment at midday TODAY?!

So let’s recap here. The admission has been booked for 2 weeks, the hospital were given my telephone number for ANY communications regarding new appointments or changes, my parents had not been to bed last night, mum drove six continuous hours, they are both near breaking point. Hmmmm, would I be incorrect to want to kick someone’s arse from here to kingdom come for receiving an appointment a fucking hour and a half before its actual time?!

Without harping on about the situation, it’s hard enough to keep your head above water without, what I feel is, total lack of compassion and organisation. Still, I shouldn’t be surprised, I worked at this hospital for over a year and spent a large part of my nine month inpatient time there and I wouldn’t trust their management with my big toe, let alone my life.

Of course I couldn’t show my anger and frustration to either of my parents, so I slapped myself about a little before leaving the house to pick up Dad, kept the soothing smile on my face throughout the trip (even the bit where you are called in an hour late for your appointment), and made the appropriate mature, supportive comments in response to heartbreaking emotions that Dad needed to get off his chest on the way home, dropped him off with a hug and a kiss, came through my front door, curled up on the floor and sobbed uncontrollably for two minutes, which may sound like such a short amount of time, but it’s two minutes more that I’ve cried since this begun and I guess that’s a start.

Monday, June 11, 2007

Scraping the barrel of entertainment

"Yes. Fight and you may die. Run and you will live, at least awhile. And dying in your bed many years from now, would you be willing to trade all the days from this day to that, for one chance to come back here as young men, and tell our enemies that they may take our lives, but they will never take our freedom?"

Armed with camouflage and weaponry, the purpose of my life is clear, the mission begins, I'm just going outside and may be gone for some time.

Tuesday, June 05, 2007