Since the end of September my joints, knees, shoulders and elbows have decided to hurt.
I thought it was just arthritis and getting old and I would get used to it. I'm not getting used to it. I shuffle and try to do normal walking and picking up stuff but I am terrified of falling over. At least I've come down from two walking sticks to one to none and I'm sure that leaning on sticks didn't do the shoulders any good.
I refuse to acknowledge I have depression, that would really make me depressed. I do have anxiety, a gift given to me as a child, one of those gifts once given never leaves. I know my friends all have pain of some kind and all of us wouldn't make one whole healthy person so we shut up and stagger on. Well I was sick of doing that so I had a good howl the other day and felt better for an hour.
I'm now trying to get in the shower but there's no-one home, only my 80 year old neighbour and I'm terrified of falling. And no I'm not getting one of those alarm things because I'd fret and worry about pressing the button every morning. I think I'll have a cuppa and a biscuit and sit for a while.
I wish they'd stuff Black Friday sales which will lead into Christmas sales and hideous carols. I can't even buy Ice Bear a present, five minutes and he's bored. Can't figure out why cats shred toilet paper and look like they're having fun. I tried that and he just put his head on it and went to sleep.
Okay, tea and biscuit, I'll do that first then all that other stuff.
17 comments:
Tea and a biscuit sound like enough achievement for the day.
Why don't you get a proper shower chair? Or apply for funding to have someone there when you shower. If my mother can cope with her emergency medallion, anyone can.
Andrew beat me to it, get a shower chair. One of my neighbours, the one with the bright purple hair recently bought one as well as a hand rail frame thing that fits around the toilet to help her get onto and off it, says they are the best things she ever bought. I'm currently hurting too, four days now and couldn't remember what the heck I'd done to deserve this, then this morning I remembered sweeping leaves and fallen squished plums off the path next to my garden and of course that's what did it, it's the main reason I rarely sweep my floors properly. But mine will pass in a few more days of resting. I do hope you can find some relief. Are you able to sleep well? Copying Andrew again, can you look into getting some help even one or two days a week so you can shower?
Sorry everyone but
1. My arse is too big for a shower chair.
2. My house is on a concrete slab so the tiles are not flat, they slope.
3. Me, chair and washing stuff do not fit in small shower.
4. I cannot step up to get in shower. I tie a towell around the top of the shower stall and swing in. I kid you not, it is a sight
5. I cannot get into the bath, the leg weighs a ton with all the fluid so can't use the hand shower.
What I want is a room I can walk into with several different shower heads according to what I want to do. After being locked up so long, my Agoraphobia is worse than ever, making it to the letter box is the best I can do.
I meant it when I said all of us wouldn't make one whole healthy person.
Dear JahTeh, please consider yourself virtually hugged. Coping with chronic pain plus mobility challenges is more than enough to prompt frustration that blossoms into depression. You're more than entitled to howl.
Edema is one condition, lymphedema is another. When you speak of "the leg", it hints at the latter condition -- which can be alleviated by massage and mechanical compression pumps, but these treatments require a home-healthcare visitor. Is there no such person available to you through the recommendation of your physician?
I join Andrew and River in urging you to get an aide one or two days a week to assist you in bathing and ensuring skin lesions don't develop. My own limited experience in home nursing leads me to suggest that in the meantime, you experiment with non-alcohol based cleansing wipes (aka "baby wipes") affixed to a sponge/base on a easily held handle.
The image of you swinging on that towel...! Yikes! Please, do reconsider the emergency medallion gizmo.
Please don't resent me butting in: I read your posts and feel as if I know you. I just wanted to comment here that it's possible to feel depleted or drained, but not depressed. I admire your spirit.
Well it's summer now, so another option is to stand in your backyard with a cake of soap and turn the sprinkler on (evil grin here), if you do that fully clothed, your laundry gets done at the same time. Hoping this makes you smile or laugh.
A Merry Christmas to all my darlings.
Yes it's me, poor RH, displaying his humanity whilst risking his dignity, yet again.
Maid River's comment reminds me of a time when I got into the bath with my underpants still on. So I gave them a wash as well. A true story.
Merry Christmas big woman, and though you spurn the religion you cannot dismiss the sentiment. Ha. Therein.
A few years ago after near-death I had a meeting with a surgery professor who along with medical matters (and to the discomfort of his offsider) saw fit to throw in a little lecture about God. Out of nowhere! He was a foreigner this bloke and looked like an Indian, a Hindu, maybe. but it doesn't matter, we've lots in common. Atheists have nought in common. Atheists: self-admirers, grow old, haggard, crawl up to the mirror, say: "Who's that?"
I have no motive. My mother said, "That's nice, dear." to everything, and it cost her everything. If people are irreligious I don't care a damn, it's fashion. And I'll remind them. As a kid I knew a neighbour with ten kids whose hubby lay in the front room all day yelling down the passage while she shuffled barefoot about the kitchen/living room always amused. Witty, like you Miss Jahteh. Invaluable, like you.
Where's Miss Brownie, Anne O'Dyne?
Miss Laura is still typing. There's been a shock development. Marriage tires women, divorce enlivens them. Laura has turned into Diana Dors.
Oh, virtual hugs Witchy. Wish I could do something to help. You don't deserve this.
I think it's time you went into hospital for a while. Just for a while. You'll come out better.
Thanks to everyone but especially Robbert who hit the nail on the head as I've just come out of hospital. Highriser started it by having a heart attack, Miss O'Dyne needs hip replacements, River isn't good either and Elephant's Child still battles on. Even Balcony is having trouble with her horse riding.
WE ARE GETTING OLD BLOGGERS. I AM HAVING TO SHIFT MY THINKING INTO THE NEXT AGE.
And just to make things good, I've gone and fk'd up the computer. The window has moved to the right and won't come back.
Frances, no one butts in here, all are welcome.
Good heavens. You started me on a new search for your address!
Marvellous news. How long were you in hospital? What did they say?
I'm pleased also to hear Miss O'Dyne is still kicking; she'll kick higher with a new hip.
Send me your address: robertalan0742@hotmail.com. I've got a little package for you.
And to all my darlings....Merry Christmas (again).
Or trash it if you want, trash Christmas, it won't matter.
-Robbberrrrt!!!!!!!
Big woman you will be glad or horrified but certainly surprised to know that I've found your address in an old notebook and consequently a missive will soon be launched your way but when it will arrive I've no idea. In it you will find another daffy duck from my vast novelty tie collection, a freddo frog and a Xmas card. I'm in no doubt this will make it the best Xmas you've ever had. I know you have the other two daffy ducks hanging near your computer so this will make three and things are always better in threes. Keep well big thing and FOLLOW MEDICAL ADVICE. I myself caused a riot in hospital among the homosexual nurses by singing Ferry Cross the mersey in the ICU. They nearly got sacked.
(And now, if I may say) Merry Christmas again to all my little cabbages. I am a Christian. I am R.H. I am free.
Robbert, sorry I haven't replied but just found as you did, your address. I am sitting next to 4 Daffy Ducks and one witchy tie riding a vaccuum cleaner, always gives me a laugh. I cannot sit for long but I'll be back blogging soon. I don't trash Christmas just the money part of it and the knowledge that a lot of children will not have presents. It brings back too many memories I don't want to remember. My Christmas dinner will be fruit cake and lo-carb beer.
I sold 13 Ross street Newport to the latte set, they thought it was wonderful, but don't know it like I do; all those shit (and illegal) RH renovations will become apparent. As will the rotted subfloor, roof tiles that blow off in the slightest breeze, and so on. I can't list everything; the place is shocking.
I'm actually sorry for these types: victims of estate agents who invented the word lifestyle to inflate prices/commissions by enticing intelligent yet emotionally credulous people to worship the inner suburbs. I got one million dollars for the place, $991,000, to be exact, four years ago.
And so I'm not there anymore, you'll find my current address on the 'sender' part of the envelope, posted last Thursday.
I only remember sending you two daffy ties, and maybe the witch tie as well.
Don't ever think I include you in my jibes against people, I never did. But I have used your blog as a soapbox, and remain startled at your tolerance of me. And I don't care who reads this and what they say, you are one of the best-hearted people I've ever known.
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