Making tough choices.

The past few weeks have been totally manic for me. Between myself ending up in hospital, Cookie going to Spain and my head going to pot, losing one of my best friends, having to cremate said friend, making the decision to resit first year and making the choice to bring Sophie back to Ireland with me.

At the end of August I was meant to sit my end of year exams at uni. Because of my mental health, my GP, Cookie, Sophie and I had made the decision to defer my May exams to give me the best chance of getting my head into the best place as possible. Unfortunately, I ended up in hospital during the first week of the exams. I managed to make the first one, which was Cell Biology but wasn’t well enough mentally or physically to sit the rest. This left me in a bit of pickle in that I wouldn’t be able to proceed into second year because I didn’t get enough credits. So I attended quite a bit meeting in uni last week with my tutor, lab module co-ordinator and student welfare officer. We have decided that I’m going to redo 1st year as a clean slate and not have to sit the modules I passed, which were Study Skills and (shock horror) Cell Biology. I was totally gobsmacked to see I’d passed CB! It’s my worst subject!

Making the decision to resit 1st year and not just go “fuck it, I’ve had enough” was not easy. Every part of me at that time was not believing I was in anyway smart enough to be doing this course or well enough to be able to keep up. I just wanted to be able to do it in 3 years like everyone else. I know not everyone else didn’t have the crap going on that I did, but still. There’s so much I need to be able to do to keep up, and I’m scared I’m not going to be able to again. And then it’s essentially 2 years of my life and about 15 grand wasted. But I enjoy uni. I love having a reason to get out of bed and do something, I love learning new things and I’m excited to see what the future will hold for me. So I’m going to give it another go. Hopefully now we  know my head is doing a lot better(touch wood), I’ve had my shoulder surgery and hopefully my chest consultant will pull his finger out, things will be a bit easier this year. But I have another reason to work hard, and I’ll explain that in a minute.

I’ve had some rotten luck with the DWP lately. I got back from Leeds and the meeting at uni on Wednesday last week to a letter from the council telling me my housing benefit had been stopped. At this point I totally panicked and rang the council. They told me it had been stopped because it was up for renewal. I’d heard nothing about this and had no letter about it or anything, so needless to say I was a total mess.  At this point I rang the DWP to find out what was going on. They said that they hadn’t actually been cancelled or up for renewal, but in fact they were only suspended because I hadn’t sent in proof of my student finance for this year. I hadn’t a clue I needed to and was surprised when they mentioned it. The woman on the phone told me that they should’ve sent a letter out but didn’t for some reason and the only thing they could do was fit me in at the job centre in person to get the relevant documents sent into them quicker than it would be by post. Thankfully it was pretty much sorted by that afternoon, and hopefully things are semi sorted. Unfortunately due to a change in my student finance rate, my ESA rate has dropped considerably which is causing me a great deal of worry at the minute. I’ve been struggling to manage as it is. I’m debating cancelling a few things that aren’t totally necessary and seeing how much I can knock off monthly bills.  It was just a really shitty week.

I’ve spent a lot of time in Leeds lately. Sophie ended up quite poorly in her local and unfortunately her mum was in the Scottish Highlands and couldn’t get home, so I said I’d hang around to make sure she was OK and not on her own. I ended up with a sore arse from sitting in hospital chairs for so long! But we picked her up from hospital when she was discharged and the difference I saw from when I left her in the evenings during the week was astounding and was good to see. It was absolutely gutting and soul destroying to see her in so much pain and not being able to help or do anything. She really is an amazing human and I wish she understood that. But knowing that she wasn’t on her own has helped us both deal with it a bit. It was a very difficult admission for her, both mentally and physically, and being able to be there to hold her hand and show her the difference that she makes to me when she does the same was rewarding.

The reason I had to leave Leeds was that I had to go to the funeral of one of my best friends. Simi passed at the beginning of August, but due to circumstances we were only able to say goodbye properly last Thursday. It was heartbreaking. I was in no way ready to say goodbye. Simi was doing the same course as me, all be it at a different uni. But it brought us so much closer together and we spent many a night moaning about uni politics, lecturers and the stress of assignments and exams. She would’ve known exactly what to say when I made the decision to resit the year. She always just knew the right thing to say and I can’t see how it’s ever going to not hurt. To not be heartbreaking when I see a picture of us both or to make me cry when I think of good memories. I’m just glad she was able to fill the last few months of her life with things she enjoyed. And that brings some comfort to us all.

I’m going to be going to Ireland on Wednesday for the first time since January. I absolutely cannot wait. I’ve not been home since January because of many circumstances. I’m taking Sophie home with me for the first time ever. I’m totally beside myself with excitement. I’m counting down the days. It’s logistically a nightmare, but the idea of giving Sophie a break for a few days and seeing where I grew up is fantastic. It’s coinciding with my birthday as well so I’m hoping we can all go out for a few drinks. It was tough making the choice to ask Sophie, as she has a lot of medical problems that could stop her flying and is taking a lot of phone calls and toing and froing to try and get it sorted. But I made the choice to ask her if she wanted to and left the ball in her court. And she made the choice to come over! And I’m glad she did! I’ve already started writing my packing list and tidying my room so I’m not having to come back to a bombsite!


So anyway, it’s nearly 4am and I’m not asleep.


Until next time people x


Rough seas.

I’ve kind of neglected my blog lately. I do think about it quite a lot,  but it’s finding the time, energy and motivation to actually take the time to start writing. Even more so when you have more revision to do than you can shake a stick at.

So. Since the last time I’ve posted….

It feels like a lot has happened, but in reality it hasn’t. We changed my anti-depressant to a completely different one, I’ve had 2 assessments by two different branches of the mental health trust, I’ve had surgery on my shoulder (Oh yea, that kind of counts as a lot…) and then all the general shenanigans that I get up to.

So I reckon I should just start with the first thing and work my way down. We (GP, me and Sophie) decided that it was time to do something about my antidepressant. It’s going to be a hell of a while before I’m seen by psychiatry (more on that later) so he’s decided to change it and see where we go. I have swapped from mirtazipine which I’ve been on now for about 2 years to Venlafaxine, which tends to be used more in severe depression but it is difficult to manage because you can only increase it every 2 weeks and it can mess about with your heart a bit, and because I’ve got a history of SVT, they’re being a bit cautious. He increased it again on Wednesday so we shall see how that goes. I’m starting to get frustrated with the amount of meds I’m having to take, and it’s getting more and more difficult to make myself take them. It’s frustrating me that nobody trusts me with more than a weeks worth of meds. I can understand why it’s happening, and I’ve been the one having to make that decision on behalf of someone, but it still isn’t easy. I’m losing control of something that has such a big impact on my life and I don’t like it.

I had an assessment with the Community Mental Health Team (CMHT), who are tasked with looking after people with severe mental health problems in the community. , which took 4 appointments. It doesn’t normally take as long, but apparently I’m “complex”. Not going to deny that! But the woman doing it was a total tosspot. She was so rude it was unbelievable. I took both Cookie and Sophie along to different appointments to make sure it wasn’t just me taking things the wrong way, but they both said she was totally out of order. She didn’t quite understand that there’s things I struggle to talk about, and that I may not necessarily be able to very easily. Making me feel bad by telling me I don’t want to get better and that they’re never going to be able to help me isn’t helpful. It was an assessment and she really did push me too much in them without giving me any coping mechanisms to deal with the emotions that she brought back to the surface. I had only just got to the point with my PTSD that I could walk past resus in A&E without having a panic attack and she decided that she wanted me to tell her exactly what happened that night. Despite me explaining I really didn’t want to talk about it for self preservation reasons, and I’d appreciate it if she would let Cookie explain it, she wasn’t having any of it, despite me bursting into tears. My psychologist and GP where absolutely furious with her for doing it. My psychologist told me she didn’t actually need to know the specifics for the purpose of that assessment. As well as that, there’s a rule in Manchester that if you miss two appointments with the mental health trust, even if you have a valid reason (eg being in hospital) they’ll discharge you. Not even 2 consecutive appointments, but 2 appointments at all. She wasn’t willing to discuss it with her manager because apparently too many people were taking the biscuit with it. I can understand that there was people taking the piss, I really do. But when I have a discharge letter from the hospital saying I was an inpatient, surely that counts as a valid reason?! In the end she decided to refer me to the Early Intervention Team (EIT) who are there to help treat the early stages of psychosis. So I had to have an assessment at home with them. That was only the one appointment thankfully, but they decided that my psychosis isn’t actually psychosis but is anxiety and PTSD related. Not sure I agree, but that was their call.  So they referred me back to the CMHT and I had to see the tosspot again yesterday. She’s decided she wants to see me for 6 appointments.  I’m not happy about it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for the help. I understand that there are people who don’t get any help. But she makes things a hell of a lot worse, and I don’t think I have much room to get worse at the minute. But we’ll see.  I just want to be able to get on with my life the way it was before January. It’s one of those vicious circles that once you’re in, it’s damned near impossible to get out of that I want to get back to uni, but going scares me into having a panic attack, but getting back is going to help my head.

So I had the surgery on my shoulder that I’d been waiting on since last year in April. Feck me that was tough. I was in hospital for Cookie’s birthday again though which sucked. But I did my best and made sure she had some presents to open and she brought them and some cake up on her birthday. I was in for a few days beforehand for IV’s to get my chest right because I had to have a general anesthetic, which in people with naughty lungs is a scary concept. The anesthetist I had seen for my assessment a few months prior had been absolutely lovely. He had said I could have someone in the anesthetic room, a PCA post op and would be allowed someone in the recovery room with me. The anesthetist who actually did my operation wasn’t having any of it and I had to pretty much argue the toss to allow Sophie into recovery. He got the huff when I put my iPod in when I was in the anesthetic room because I was starting to totally panic and was just a general arse. He told me he wasn’t having any of it the night before, so needless to say I didn’t get much sleep that night. My chest kicked off a smidge when I was in recovery and I had to have some magnesium and hydrocortisone, but apart from that it was all good. I think I was in for about 2 weeks in total, but my shoulder is a hell of a lot better now. I spent 4 weeks in sling instead of 3 because I managed to (being me) fall on my sore shoulder about a week post op. I will say though that I’m terrible at doing my physio. I’ve been trying to do it a bit more in the past few weeks, but I am absolutely terrible at remembering. But even despite that, it’s doing well. I’ve a good bit of movement back in it, and I’m slowly building up the strength in it. I’m still not fully trusting of it, but it was the same after my hip replacements. It took me months to trust my leg to take my weight fully when I was going up and down stairs. It’s only been recently that I’ve trusted them enough to go down stairs without holding onto the banister! But I’ll get there, I’m looking forward to hopefully getting back to the gym. I’m not allowed just yet, but I think once I hit 3 months post op in July they’ll let me.

I’m going to be sitting all my exams at the end of August/beginning of September with all the resits. I’m not actually sitting any of them as resits, but because I missed 2 in January because I was in hospital, and with having surgery and my mental health being so rubbish, my GP, me and uni all decided that deferring my exams to then would be better for me. It put less pressure on me because there was no way in hell I was going to be ready by May to sit the exams. Bearing in mind in two of my 4 modules I have to do 2 semesters worth of revision. So I have a kind of revision plan at the minute and I’m really trying to stick to it. Hopefully I will and it will all pay off. As it stands I’m on the fence about repeating first year so we will see how things go when I sit my exams. Not going to lie, I’m nervous as feck, but uni have been fantastic. Because I missed the majority of my labs, I wouldn’t be able to move onto 2nd year because of that. But my module co-ordinator is going to work with me during July and August to catch up and get me to the level for the must pass exam. So here’s hoping!

Trying to think whether anything else big has happened. I went to Edinburgh to see Dad on Father’s Day. He hadn’t a clue I was coming, and seeing his face when he saw me coming up the stairs has to be in my top 15 moments ever. It was good to see him. I’ve not seen Irene or Sean since November, and although I’ve seen dad since, it was only briefly because he came down for the day.  So it was good to spend some proper time with them all. Sean’s voice has broke and he’s getting so grown up. He’s just a little bit older than TJ, but he’s so much more mature. With TJ’s learning difficulties he’s very naive and innocent and can’t really look after himself to any degree. Whereas Sean is a lot more independant. Hopefully though we will get TJ to that level and he’ll be able to be to live independantly. While I was in Edinburgh, I had a massive haircut. I’m still undecided as to whether I like it. I think it’s too short and I look like an oompa loompa, but everyone else says it’s lovely. I think it’s nicer when I can get it tussled and not like a bob. It actually means I have to use products on my hair for the first time in my life. It’s mad. Although the advantage of having it dried in an hour and it taking about a quarter of the time to shower is a massive one. It’s whether or not I can keep it this short or not! I think I might let it grow a bit, and keep it just above shoulder level. But time will tell.



Unfortunately a few months ago we lost Dolly. Dolly was my Jack Russell Terrier back in Monaghan. She was a total legend. She got me through the worst of stuff with James and was absolutely epic at making me laugh. She had a heart attack when mum went to pick her up from Nanny’s. I was, and still am totally devastated. I can’t imagine going home now and Dolly not being there. It’s going to take some doing. Miss my puppy 😦



If you’ve managed to get to this point and not fall asleep, I congratulate you. I promise to try to be a bit better at blogging. Hopefully once my head starts to wise up, things will get a bit easier and I will have a bit more motivation to do it. Watch this space.



So this morning I had an orthopaedics appointment to get the results of my MR Arthrogram. I had this done on my shoulder because I’ve dislocated it so many times they wanted to see if there’s any structural damage in it. I found out I’ve torn cartilage and ligaments in it and am going to need surgery on it. This scares the complete shite out of me. Mainly because they’ve said that they don’t think a nerve block is possible on my shoulder because it will paralyse my diaphragm into the bargain. So I’m going to need a general anesthetic. They refused point blank to do my hip under GA because of my screwy chest and made me go through a spinal for both of them. So this is not a piece of good news. And the asthma nurses at the hospital don’t think my consultant is going to let them do a GA. I’m a bit freaked out to be honest. It really feels like just when things are starting to go well for me, that something gets thrown at me to make things difficult again. I know that the saying is only the strongest people get the biggest battles, but right now I don’t want another battle. I don’t want to have to be strong. I want to go to uni in September and not have to worry about this op and having to take a chunk of time out to recover.

I’m scared.


James Keenan. 9th August 1966 – 25th January 2014

Well as you’ve guessed from the title, James died last Saturday. It was quite unexpected in the sense that we thought he had longer with us. He went to be on the Friday night and just didn’t wake up. I got the phonecall from mum on Saturday morning and just didn’t know what to do.

I went straight into Civic and bought a shitload of DVD’s. When I’m stressed I tend to buy things. I’ve no idea why but it does make me feel better. 

I don’t know how I feel. I’m distraught, relieved, angry and upset all at once. I spent 10 years or more believing that James deserved whatever he got, and now that he is actually gone, I can’t believe it. I’m gutted. My whole family is torn up and nobody knows how to deal with it. I don’t know why anyone would get cancer, or why it would be something that kills people. But they took my little brother’s dad from him. My mum’s husband. And as much as I hate to say it, my stepdad. And I did love him. You can’t live with someone for that long and not have feelings. I remember James before he drank. I remember the James that took me to the cinema, watched the Lion King on telly and drew pictures with me. The James that walked me to school in the mornings. The James before the drink. 

I wanted to get home for the funeral, but it just wasn’t possible. It was on the Monday, and I was still struggling with my own health. I can’t risk flying over when I’m not well. I’d just end up in hospital as soon as I landed. But I’m going over on the 16th Feb. This is the first time I’ve flown home that I’m not looking forward to it. I know what I’m going to. My little brother is blocking everything at the minute, and if I know him as well as I think I do, he’s going to crash as soon as I get home. Maybe in some ways that’s a good thing, because then I’ll be able to be there for him and he needs that. But on the other hand, I don’t want to see my little brother hurt that much. He’s so important to me, and I love him to pieces. I don’t know if I can deal with seeing him struggle that much and not being able to make it better. The best I can do for him is to be there for him, and I will do my very best. I will be home for the months mind mass, and I think that’s when it’s going to hit TJ. But I’ll be there for him, and for mum. I’ve got to be there for my family. 

But today, just as I thought I was getting my head around it all, things changed. I had managed to persuade myself that James didn’t give a shit about me, and that made it easier for me to deal with. If he didn’t care about me, why should I care about him? But I got a phonecall from my mum this morning saying that they’d got James’ belongings from his old accomadation. When I was sitting my Leaving Certificate, I had to do what’s known as a lino print. I spent ages working on it, and I was really pleased with the result. It was part of my mock and I did quite well in it. But I gave it to James at a time when mum was trying to make things work with him and he was off the drink, and to be fair thought nothing else of it. I thought it would be a nice thing to do and that he would appreciate it being a graphic designer. But they found it in his belongings when going through his stuff. He did give a shit. He did care. And that completely changed the way I look at things. And now I don’t know how to deal with it. Am I upset that he cared and I persuaded myself that he didn’t? Am I angry at myself for not giving him a chance? Should I have tried harder to make things work? Or was I right to just completely ignore him? I didn’t even get to say goodbye to him. He went to his grave thinking I hated him, and that’s the worst thought of all. 

I didn’t hate him. I hated the way the drink made him. I do miss him. I miss the James from 2000. I miss the person that he was. Not the person he became. I miss Him. 



James Keenan. 1966 – 2014


New Years.

New years for me was not what you would call upbeat. On the 27th of December, I flew back from Tenerife. When I touched back on the tarmac in Manchester, I got a phonecall pretty much immediately from my mum. It was not the sort of phonecall people look forward to. “I’ve got a bit of bad news” is never a good way to start a conversation and the first thing I thought was that my dog had died.  “James is in the Marie Curie center in Belfast.”

What was I meant to say to that? I was still on the plane so I had to hold it together. I held it together waiting on the taxi, going home and just about held it together getting in. Cookie answered the door and was on the phone to Kira at the time. I came in, fired my suitcase and rucksack into the corner and sat down on my bed. I don’t know how or why I didn’t cry, but I don’t think it had properly sunk in. I told Cookie I needed to go out so we went shopping at ASDA. We needed to go food shopping anyway, but I had a few gift vouchers to spend and needed to feel better. So got home, had dinner and went to bed. Was lying watching TV and I don’t know what happened. I just broke down. At 2am of all times. I rang my mum in pieces. Bless her, I wouldn’t have been too happy to get a phonecall at that hour, but she talked to me for 45 mins while I sobbed my eyes out, asked questions and generally lost it. I couldn’t stop myself from crying when I got off the phone, and went into cookie. Now I’ve lived with Cookie for 2 years, and despite having severe asthma attacks in the night, pain hitting stupid levels and sharing a room with her for over a year, I’ve never woke her up in the middle of the night. So it shows you just how upset and distraught I was that I went into her. I got into bed beside her and just had cuddles from my best friend. She’s amazing. I wish she knew just how awesome she is.

I don’t know what I feel, or felt. For so long I wished him dead, severe pain and God knows what else. But now he’s got cancer, and about 3 months max to live. Lung, Liver and possibly pancreatic cancer. My little brother is going to loose his dad. My mum’s going to loose her husband, all be they seperated. I’m angry, upset, worried, scared and a million and one other emotions at once. Nobody deserves cancer. Not even the person that caused me so much pain and upset. I said to mum that I didn’t want him to go to his deathbed thinking I hate him. Because I don’t. I hate the person he became and was because of the drink. But before he started drinking he was a different person, and was easy to be around. But drink changed him. And not in a good way. I don’t want him to be in pain, or for him to suffer. But I don’t think he will be. They’ll have him that dosed up with pain meds he won’t know where he is for the last few days.

It’s TJ and mum that I’m hurting for the most though. TJ never got to properly know his dad, and anytimes he did, James was not the dad he should’ve been. It was always an experience tainted by drink. They went to James’s sisters one day, and mum left them in the living room, so they could have some time on their own. TJ walked out after 5 minutes because he didn’t have anything to say to his dad. He’s never had a relationship with his dad. And I don’t like that. No matter how things were, I always had my dad. It was mum I struggled with, but now things are a lot better and I’m proud of that. But dad was always there for me, and I told him everything that happened when I lived at home. I had that experience of going travelling with dad, and all the happy memories involved in that. But TJ won’t have that. And he’s 12. I was his age when James started drinking, and I struggled with it for over 5 years. But TJ experienced it from such a small age that as he grew up it was what he believed to be normal and that’s no way for a child to be. But I’ve said that I would go home and be there for him when things got bad. She doesn’t quite understand that TJ might need me. But as I said to her, she doesn’t have a good relationship with her siblings, whereas TJ and I always got on so well and he does come to me when he’s struggling. And I don’t want him to look back at this period and say “Well where was Vicky when I needed her?” He’s my little brother, and is the most special person in this world to me.

So James has 3 months. Some might call it the end of an era. But I don’t. I call it the beginning of a new one. It’s never going to be the end, because there’s always going to be the difficulties associated with what’s happened, such as my PTSD. But I’ve started to address those. James being alive or dead isn’t going to change that. It’s the beginning of another story. One without him, but with dealing with everything that has been left. Such as my little brother and mum. I wouldn’t be the person I am today if it wasn’t for James. Be it a good or bad way, I am a different person for having experienced everything I have. I’m going to make sure that I do everything I can for my family. I love my family more than anything, and my little brother needs me. And as much as she might not admit it, mum does too.

2014 is going to be tough, but I can get through it. With my friends, family, and my new boyfriend (YES! Shock horror!) I have the people I need around me to get me there.


A Proper Diagnosis.

Well on my recent admission to hospital, I got the results of the MRI scan of my pelvis and hips I’d had the week before.  I knew before I’d got the results, what the likely options where. It was either Avascular Necrosis, a worsening of my Osteoporosis or torn cartilage. AVN is caused by long term steroid use, so I was preparing myself to be told that it was that, but that they’d be able to treat it with medication, or minor surgery. The realities weren’t so rosy. My respiratory consultant was the one that actually told me, because the orthopaedic consultant was on annual leave, and I knew it was bad from the moment he walked in. I have Advanced Avascular Necrosis with oedema and labral tears in my right hip, and moderate AVN in my left hip. We’ll call my cons Dr R for easiness, told me he’d never seen the severity of necrosis and degeneration in the hip as he had in mine. Bearing in mind Dr R has been a consultant, all be it a respiratory consultant, for about 30 years, that wasn’t good. Because AVN is primarily caused by long term steroid use, which is a treatment for asthma, he knew quite a lot about it and had seen it before in many patients. So for him to tell me it was that severe, was a major blow. And as soon as they actually realised I wasn’t just addicted to morphine, or experiencing a low pain threshold or going through withdrawals, they put me on stronger painkillers. This being after they’d left me all weekend without my proper painkillers, and the ones they did give me made me feel incredibly odd. Dr R was not impressed by the treatmeent I’d received by the oncall team over the weekend. I’d been led to believe he was on call that weekend but apparently not. Stopping an asthmatics nebulisers in the middle of an acute attack was stupid, and he agreed. The pain I was experiencing was nothing like I’ve ever experienced. Being off painkillers with an avascular hip was agony, and I’m not afraid to say it.

But anyway, with the diagnosis now definite, we can start to do something about it.  From what I believe, the most likely treatments are either Core Decompression or a total hip replacement. Each has it’s advantages and disadvantages. CD is only an option if the necrosis is only in a certain area of the femoral head, but it’s the one they’re more likely to want to do, because hip replacements are not something they like doing in people of my age. They will only last 15-20 years and if I need a second one, they’re less likely to do it and it’s less likely to be as effective. So CD is the more chosen route for someone of my age. I’ll know more about what their plan is though when I see the orthopeadic surgeons. That appointment hasn’t come through yet, but I’m hoping I’ll be seen in the next few weeks.  To be honest, I just want it all over and done with now. I’ve had joint problems for nigh on 3 years now with several diagnosis’, including it all being pyschological, thrown around. To now have them tell me after all that, that infact it is something “major” so to speak is just rude.

This week is going to be a difficult week.  On the 20th February we lost one of our dearest friends, Kat, to a terminal condition called Auto-Immune Vasculitis. This Tuesday is her funeral. It’s going to be a very difficult day. Kat wasn’t ready to get her angel wings, she was too young and too much of a fantastic person to have gone through the pain and suffering as she did. But she’s no longer suffering, which is a consolation to us all.  She was a great support to me over the past few months when things where difficult with cookie. She would come up from Sheffield when I needed a hug. She stayed overnight a few times to make sure I was OK aswell.  She was a very selfless person. We all have our faults, and Kat ackowledged hers and would always attempt to make sure that if she had ever upset anyone, that amends were made immediately. But she had far more amazing traits than faults and she was someone who was always trying to spread love and hugs. She’d give even a random person a hug and would do everything she could to help. And this is the Kat that we would all remember. The person who would bring KFC up to the hospital and demand cutlery from the nurses, who would steal the O2 taps in the bays of people she was visiting so she could stay longer.   My friend Kira is coming up on Monday, and will be staying until Thursday. She’ll be going to the funeral with me on Tuesday, along with our friend Dorri, who is giving us a lift and being an all round star as always.

It really is times like this, difficult ones, that we realise just what we have. When I got told about my hip, I was a complete mess. I needed a hug. And there is no family near by to call on in situations like that. But I’m lucky. I have friends. Friends who, that when they heard I was having a bad day, came up to the hospital with sweets and crisps, and would cheer me up with some nutty talk and games of UNO.  At the moment, I’m struggling to get around the flat and keep the place clean and tidy. I’m meant to be on complete bed rest. As it is, I’m refusing to keep that one up. I’m too stubborn and independant. But when there’s things I can’t do, like carrying the washing out to hang, or doing the shopping and carrying it in and out, my friends rally. They can’t do enough to help. And it’s amazing.

I’ve started drawing again. It’s giving me something to do when I’m bored in bed or hospital. Cartoon characters are one of my favourite things to draw. But I’m trying other things too, like human portraits and grafitti writing. I’m not Walt Disney yet, but I do enjoy doing it, and it’s burning some time.


The lighting on this is crap, but it was one of the first colour with marker drawings I did.

The lighting on this is crap, but it was one of the first colour with marker drawings I did.

Really like this one. I think it shows 3D quite well.

Really like this one. I think it shows 3D quite well.

This one took a few goes to get the end result, but I was pleased with it!

This one took a few goes to get the end result, but I was pleased with it!

Just did this one off the top of my head. What does anybody think? If it's worth me doing a few more of these or not?

Just did this one off the top of my head. What does anybody think? If it’s worth me doing a few more of these or not?


But anyway, will try and post again soon. I’m really not good at the whole regular posting thing.  I’m considering doing a review blog about books I’ve read. A friend has sent me his book of poetry to review, so I’m quite looking forward to reading it and reviewing it.

Alternate career path maybe?


R.I.P Freddie

Yesterday evening I had to have my beloved hamster put to sleep. I’ve only had him about 6 weeks so he was still very much my baby and I loved him to bits. We noticed on Monday that he was squeaking when we handled him, but we thought that was just because he was scared and thought nothing more of it. Last night however, Cookie noticed that he was struggling to move and that his wee was red and he couldn’t get up his tubes in the cage without his back legs giving way, so we took him to the OOH vets who basically said he had a large abdominal mass and it would be kinder to put him to sleep. I’m absolutely devastated because he was the most awesome hamster ever. The amount of times he put a smile on my face on a bad day is uncountable and he was a beautiful colour aswell. I miss him already 😦

R.I.P Freddie, Miss you little dude.

R.I.P Freddie.