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| Mid Forties Fabulous Footwear |
I wanted to start this post with a conversation I have recently had with a wise, supportive and similar aged friend. We both have reached our mid forties, though her birthday has not yet happened, and realised that contrary to the rose coloured views of the young, we have in fact reached the perfect age.
Chilling back on the sofa sipping a “decent” coffee we listed what had changed over the past year and how those changes had led us to the comfortable, confident women we are today.
It was then I mentioned how I have started wearing my beloved high heels on a daily basis, how it had raised eyebrows of passers by with queries and comments made.
I had already experienced the “light bulb” moment where I knew that my attire and appearance was important to me and that having a stick, wheelchair or friendly arm shouldn’t stop me being just that…me.
It’s strange, the idea of growing older with an illness/disability isn't phasing at all. It is all part of the journey that gets you to the person you want to be. I can safely say that regardless of treatment, illness and other blips, my confidence is at tip top level and at least 4 inches higher than it should be thanks to my fabulous new black stillettos J
In my last post I told you all about my to-ings and goings to the hospital and treatments. Well, I have had the second load put in and waiting to hear how it has effected the HUVs. It is going to be a long process but fingers crossed I will see some improvement, if not, then onwards and upwards. As sung by the infamous Beastie Boys “you’ve got to fight, for the right, to parteeeeeeee”. My mantra “Carpe Diem” still stands and will going forward. I recently have found strength in a friend who is also on a rocky road. We are both facing our challenges with humour and spirit. It makes a difference when you can share your experiences with someone who is going through something similar.
The other big thing is that in a couple of weeks I am intending to increase my work hours. This is great news as I currently still feel out of the whole working loop due to my very reduced attendance. I’m not sure that I shall be so pleased once the hours have kicked in……..this leads me onto the serious side of this post.
When living with a long term debilitating illness it can be very difficult to deal with the daily things that everyone else just completes. For instance, on a work day I compartmentalise my day depending where I am at that point in the day. Tomorrow I shall be Work Sarah, HUVS Sarah, Mummy Sarah followed by Wife Sarah…..so many roles in one day J but it helps. I don’t necessarily want my work colleagues to see the HUVS Sarah, the children see Work Sarah and feel that Mark deserves to see Wife Sarah occasionally. Sometimes things can become all consuming and it is paramount to put the nasty things back in their box even for a short time. If not life an become confusing or even worse un-faceable.
Personal
Well “The Fam” are ok, we have had many birthdays recently and still have a couple to go this month. The weather here in the UK has been beautiful with unseasonable temperatures which mean the children have been out in the sun A taste of summer in March….unbelievably great J The other wonder I found was an exercise show, on the Fitness chanel, for a workout totally completed in high heels..my idea of exercise heaven. I may sit in the chariot in my very high heels and throw my legs and arms around for a while. It all counts.
Mark is in training for a football tournament so the house smells of deep heat and other medicines. Both children are involved in their activities which included Boo dancing in the middle of a school field last night……Jake is at the grunting stage so I never know what he actually wants, I have looked in the local library to no avail for a “grunt” dictionary to help me understand my soon to be teenager…
A promise is a promise
In my last post I mentioned that friends had suggested that I try my hand at writing down my experiences into a sort of journal or book……well below is the first chapter… it is the only one I will be posting but enjoy….it is a humorous look at my days in hospital when I first fell ill…it is rather long J
Until next time fellow Living with HUVS followers
Love
Sarah x
The title is:
Pills, Wheels and Beautiful High Heels
I awoke in the hospital to a haze of blue. The ceiling, floor, curtains and staff all in varying shades of the same colour. I could hear the shuffling and sniggering of the staff, their athletic see-saw trainers not able to hide the sound of their movements. A group of nurses in their navy uniforms with their clip-on hand gels and watches were grouping round beds as if in a choreographed setting. I was amazed that they had not realised that half of us in the ward were pretending to be asleep. After six days of reading the same magazine the highlight was the morning round. Listening to the nurses detailing the night out on the tiles the previous evening and finding out who else in this emergency sterile environment had made it through the past eight hours. As awful as it sounds, it was the highlight of the day which afterwards stretched out in front of us, identical to the monotonous grey sea view we had from the windows opposite.
Mary next to me had survived and thank goodness. An octogenarian who insisted all her tubes were removed each day so she could apply her lipstick and face powder. She was the mostly lively entertainment I could have asked for. “ How have we done?” she asked as I peeped over my sheet. I peered around and could see that all were presented and accounted for. The ward sister looked over and pursed her lips and marched on to see where her shuffling gaggle of blue had gone. “We are all still here” I whispered. “Including Flora”. Mary groaned and pulled a face followed by a quick crafty spray of her violet perfume. I don’t like violet at the best of times but compared to what Flora offered I was willing to breath in the flowery scent with all my might.
Breakfast came and went and then the endless day started. I had been in the hospital for several weeks after suddenly falling ill with a mystery condition. At first it was all very frightening and I lost count of the number of specialists I saw in their threadbare jumpers, un-ironed shirts and scuffed brown shoes. It was as much a uniform as the blue gaggle. They didn’t giggle though, they looked like they had the world on their shoulders and peoples lives in their hands, which they did.
It had all began on what should have been the start of a relaxing week with Mark, my husband. The children were back to school so the time was ours. I could look back at that day with a rose tinted memory. I could say the autumn sky was blue for as far as the eye could see and that Mark and I were enjoying a romantic stroll hand in hand along the shore. But alas, although it was early autumn, the sky was grey, we were huddled from the drizzle in the car and only on the coast road to enjoy a hot mug of tea and butty with the local fisherman. It’s funny how your memory can alter what happens. Its like having your own editing suite that allows you to remember only what your brain will allow. Unfortunate really, as I would love to be able to remember some of the drink fuelled nights of my twenties.
Mary’s snores interrupted my thoughts. I looked at her and wondered what sort of life she had experienced. Her pale face wrinkled, each one folded into the face powder she had previously added, the only splash of colour was the ruby lipstick which was now slightly smudged into the lines of her cragged smile. Unplugging my monitors I slowly moved towards her bed and adjusted her cover. The gaggle were on the other side of the ward and hadn’t noticed she was cold. She looked at me with one eye open, smiled and settled back down again, even with one eye open she saw all. Once again I considered what a wonderful woman she was.
Visiting time arrived but no-one lasted more than two hours with Flora in full control. Mary and I were convinced she would wait until her own family arrived and we definitely saw her smirk when they left, looking green and embarrassed, within ten minutes. We thought maybe we should invite her into our conversations but Mary was swiftly running out of violet perfume and the alternative was to much to contemplate.
I heard Mary move about “is it lunchtime yet?” she asked. “Can you see my oxygen coming? If so, then yes” I replied. It was the gaggles’ revenge. Every time the caterers appeared so did my nebulisers and oxygen. By the time I had inhaled my way through 20 minutes of noisy air stream the plates were always cleared away and cups of tea in their place. “It’s ok” I would tell Mary, “ the special tight jeans I have never worn will be coming out to a full fanfare”. Hunger is a strange thing. It is all consuming until suddenly you cannot consider eating anything. “Here, I saved you a bit of my pork chop” Mary whispered. “it was a bit tough for me” I looked at the piece of meat carefully wrapped up in violet scented tissue and could just make out the ruby red tinge of lipstick on the left hand side. “Er, thanks Mary but I couldn’t eat a thing, I make it a rule not to eat to anything ruby red before five in the evening”.
We looked forward to the night shift because Sophie joined us. Sophie was a nurse but not yet fully qualified. She wore a white fitted tunic that stood out amongst the blue. Sophie was different. Her hair was jet black and pulled up into a pony tail with a 1950’s quiff at the front. Her right arm was a kaleidoscope of colour. Beautiful roses and peonies crawling up the ivy from her elbow to collar bone. She was the third and final part of our renegade group.
Her energy was infectious “Hi Girlies, how have you both been today? Sarah, have you eaten at all?” she said as she pulled out a sandwich and packet of crisps. She placed them on the counter next to my head, winked and turned to Mary. “So my lovely, I hear that you have been eyeing up Reginald in Bay 4”. Mary spluttered loudly, draw up her entire six stone frame, looked at Sophie straight in the eye, smirked and applied more lipstick. Reginald was the night time wanderer. He regularly decided to have a nocturnal walk which was ok when he was walking towards you but once passed your bed the view was not so pleasant, thanks to the gown that everyone had to wear. More than once one of his pale buttocks popped out. Luckily Reginald never knew and for us it was just one more weird and wonderful thing that saw us through another twenty-four hours on the emergency ward.
Time ticked on and people came and went. Some to other wards in the hospital others to the bigger ward in the sky. We seemed to stay static. Mary’s daughter, Dorothy, bought her more perfume. “Mum, you need to put on this cardigan” she’d say holding up a hideous nylon paisley creation. Mary’s jaws jutted out “Not on your Nelly. It clashes with my lipstick and washes me out”. Dorothy, “her name is actually Dorothea” Mary would chime, looked from her mum, to me to Sophie. We would all glare together as if shielding Mary from the offending article. Dorothy would sigh, give her Mum a quick peck on her powered cheek, put on her cheap anorak and walk towards the exit already thinking about the parking fees in the car park. She never stayed long.
One morning a new face arrived on the ward. Mary and I sat up in our crisp clean sheets instead of peering over the top like usual. “Who an earth is that”? exclaimed Mary. As a tall male nurse walked passed the beds pushing some electronic equipment completely unaware of the impact he was having. I had never seen Mary move so quickly, her powder was on her face so fast I hadn’t even noticed her compact. As for the ruby lips, she had applied with such enthusiasm they practically reached her nostrils. “Mary, what are you like?” I asked. “Have you seen yourself”? I laughed. Mary threw me a look of disgust whilst grumbling under her breathe. She took a quick glance before ducking under her blankets with wads of perfumed tissue wiping vigorously. After a time she reappeared perfectly made up. I gazed at her in awe. “How do you do that?” I exclaimed. “It’s amazing, you are apparently to frail to go home but you can put your face on in double quick time that would have a twenty year old green with envy”. I had realised for sometime that Mary didn’t want to go home. She was much stronger than she was letting on to the hospital staff. Sophie also knew but couldn’t bring herself to inform the discharge team. Mary had her reasons and until she was comfortable enough to confide in us we just ignored the fact we had rumbled her.
The new nurse was called Vladimir and had recently moved over from Cardiology. I could see the blue gaggle were very impressed with him. Their blonde hair suddenly shiny and eyes bigger through the application of mascara, constantly checking their appearance in the face of their fob watches. I’ve never thought it acceptable that a six foot hunk should be allowed to see me in an open backed gown, no make-up, hair everywhere and sporting a breathing mask that looks like I’m a constantly deep sea diving. I’m not what you call beautiful even after hours in the saloon but can pass as acceptable when giving time. One thing you have on the ward, just not the inclination, Reginald was hardly motivation to sprucing yourself up. Now I was faced with the prospect of being in some highly undignified positions with a man who had made even the 84 year old Mary swoon causing her drip to fallout and spray the patient in the next bed. The only person who was totally unaffected was Flora. But even then Vlad’s ability to block out the Flora’s natural “presence” was awe inspiring and endeared everyone to him even more than before.
During this time Mark visited. He kept me and Mary in supply of magazines and news from the outside World. His harassed tired face would remind me that he was holding everything together outside. The children were creating havoc with only one parent to harass and his mother was having a field day without my supersonic powers to rebound her forever interfering ways. He laughed with the gaggle, sweet talked the ward sister and always made sure that Mary and I had everything we needed before he ambled out of the doors, a man sleepwalking through the concerns and worries that you have when the one you love is chronically ill. Why would I look at Vlad when I already had my hero? But that didn’t stop Mary fluttering her eyelashes whenever he walked passed.
Night was particularly interesting. The lights dimmed to no avail as patients were moved in and out like bumper cars. Patients came in 3 groups. Silent, Moaning and Screaming. Like Meer cats Mary and I would watch all the comings and goings adding our own dialogue and diagnosis. “Ooooh! I bet he has chronic constipation” Mary declared loudly as some poor old gent who was bumped off the wall near our beds groaning in pain. “Look at her” she whispered. “Too much to drink, hope she doesn’t keep us awake too much, I need my beauty sleep, Vlad’s back on tomorrow”.
Sophie would join us, as her station was opposite our beds. She would occasionally have a worried frown and be distracted by an emergency occurring further down the corridor.
It was her concerned face that I saw when I came round from my first crash. Her soft voice clashing against the bright lights on the tiled ceiling. “Sarah, you are ok. You are back with us now. You had a reaction but we have it under control. Put your deep sea diving mask on and take a few breaths”. Focussing on the roses on her arm as she slid the mask over my face I was thankful she was the one looking after me. “Is Mary ok”? I croaked. I could hear fidgeting and I knew she would be apoplectic with worry that she couldn’t see her partner in crime through the blue curtains they had wrapped around my bed. “She’s alright Mary” she shouted enduring the withering look the ward sister gave her. Even with flashing lights, people and face masks I could physical feel the relief across the gap between our beds. Sophie stayed seated between us that night. The three of us against whatever was going to happen. We even giggled, me through a cloud of white vapour, when Reginald decided to go for his night time meander, sauntering past, smiling at Mary, white backside illuminating the muted walkway. That was the last time we saw Reg. He wasn’t in the roll call the next morning. Mary and I silently understood that we had probably witnessed his last swan song and a fine one it was too.
What’s next
