I don't know if I can do this :(

Well I'm finally back at home after spending a few days at my mum's house.  The bad news just seems to keep coming, with every little glimmer of hope quickly being snatched away again.

My step dad is still in hospital.  He had his chest drain inserted on Tuesday, and as yet they have not been able to clear his lungs in order to seal the space.  The fluid was pouring out initially, and all was well as his breathing was easing, but then his blood pressure began to plummet so they had to stem the flow of fluid, in order to allow his bp to recover.  The only problem with that was that he was collecting fluid quicker than they could drain it.  At one point it was estimated that he was collecting around 3 litres of fluid around his lungs over a 24 hour period.

We had a bit of an up last night as the flow slowed dramatically, and I stupidly allowed myself to think that maybe, just maybe he would be able to have the talc procedure soon.  Should have known better.  They took him to x ray this morning, and it turns out that the reason the flow had slowed was because the drain had become dislodged-he still has a fair amount of fluid built up around his lungs.  For reasons unknown to me they can't just reinsert the drain-they are leaving him without it over the weekend and will give him a new one on Monday if he needs it (but as there was fluid there when he got x rayed then its safe to say he will need a new drain).  It remains to be seen whether they can clear all the fluid, so they can do what they need to do so he can start treatment.

I don't really know why I'm so desperate for him to get treatment though.  I know they cant cure him, I suppose I just want him to have a little more time living.  At the moment he is just stuck in a hospital bed with nasal prongs topping up his oxygen, and he's not even properly with it.  He's utterly exhausted and as weak as a kitten.  Yesterday he thought I was my Daughter, during the night the nursing staff were concerned as he was babbling incoherently-they asked if he knew where he was and he gave them his home address.  He is on restricted fluids at the moment and my Mum and I tried explaining to him how much he could have.  Rather than hospital issue jugs of water he has 500 ml bottles, so we put 2 on his table and said that in a day he can have those 2 bottles plus a cup of tea each time the tea trolley comes around.  After half an hour of explaining it in the simplest of terms he still didn't understand.  He said hello to me about 4 times today, even though I was sat right next to him the whole time I was there, and he just babbles away to himself, not even proper words half the time.  He has always been a talker, but even the old Navy days stories have stopped now.  He goes between rambling, fidgeting and fiddling around with things on the over bed table thingy, just picking things up and putting them down again.

Probably the worst thing is that nobody is telling us anything.  We only found out about the chest drain issue because Mum went off to ask someone when she noticed it had gone.  Is it wrong of me to think that a phone call at least to keep her informed might have been an idea?  There is open visiting on his ward between 1100 and 2000, and there is somebody there with him the entire time (he HATES being alone, so me, mum and my step sister are taking it in turns), yet there never seems to be a doctor around.

So yeah, I've spent the last few days at my mums, partly for company for her, and partly just to help out so she can relax a bit without having to worry about cooking dinner/walking the dog etc etc.  Plus I just wanted to keep an eye on her.  She's coping amazingly well so far, but the cracks are beginning to show and I just wanted to be there for her.  I only decided to come home today because I am completely and utterly exhausted, despite sleeping well while I was there.  I need a little time to myself as I know if I don't get it soon I'm gonna start to lose it, and if I do that then I will be no help to her at all.

I just honestly don't know how long I can carry on like this. I know I have to, but as the days pass it's getting more and more difficult to find the strength to do it.  This little corner of the internet is helping as I can at least let things out here (it may well be jumbled/nonsensical but I just let the words flow), work are being incredibly supportive (from a personal point of view, as well as the trust wanting to do what they can to help), and I am also lucky enough to have friends supporting me too.  Somewhat surprisingly is the fact that the person who seems to know exactly what to say (or what I need to hear) is someone that I have never actually met.  Just somebody that I follow on twitter (friend of a friend type thing).  We've tweeted each other a few times since we've been following each other, just general chit chat kinda stuff, but over the last couple of days their messages to me have made me smile and cry at the same time.  Both very needed, and both very welcome.

I am hugely grateful for all the support-it gives me the strength to be there for my mum apart from anything else.  I just need to find the same kind of support for my mum, so next on my to do list is to contact Macmillan/Marie Curie and to have a chat with my GP to see what help is out there.  At some point my step dad will be going home, and shes going to need all the help she can get both physically and mentally.  I'll do what I can, but I know I have my limits, and I know she feels bad for 'burdening' me with it (her words, not mine I hasten to add).

So another day draws to a close and I have to say that I am grateful for that.  Will soon be time to crawl into my bed, and 'forget' about it all for a few hours, then see what tomorrow brings.

A not so happy update.

It's been just over a month since my last post, and what a roller coaster of a month it's been.

The one thing dominating everything else has been my step dad's health.  He has been in and out of hospital, has had numerous tests (and pretty much every complication associated with them), but we now know for certain that he does have lung cancer.

It was feared for a while that it had already metastised to his liver, but thankfully the tumours there were found to be benign.  His lungs however, are basically a total mess.  He has one walnut sized tumour in his right lung, but the entire surface of both his lungs are completely 'peppered' with abnormal (as in, cancerous) cells.  He is having major issues breathing due to a build up fluid in the space between his lungs and the pleural lining, but, to make things even worse, we have now been told that they cannot treat the cancer, due to the fact that his lungs are basically riddled it.

To say we have been 'up and down' is an understatement.  He obviously is having a really tough time dealing with it, and whenever I see him he recounts all sorts of stories from his navy days-it's almost like he wants me tell me everything while he still can.  His mood is incredibly low, and it is so unlike him it's unreal, and incredibly painful to see.  My mum is doing an incredible job of keeping herself together.  I can see the strain on her face and hear it in her voice, but she's just getting on with as best she can, and I have to say that I am incredibly proud of how she is coping.  Probably better than I am if I'm completely honest.

So the prognosis is bleak.  He is going into hospital tomorrow to have fluid drained, and to have a talc procedure to 'seal' the pleural space to prevent further fluid build up, then he will be starting chemo as a 'palliative' measure.  There is no point in them trying to cure him, so they will only give him enough chemo to try and 'control' the cancer, without making him feel even more ill.

This evening I have that horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach that something bad is going to happen, and I really am praying that nothing will go wrong for him tomorrow.  It may sound selfish but I'm simply not ready to say goodbye yet.

Please stay strong Pete, fight as hard as you can for as long as you can.  But when you've had enough, I'll be there to hold your hand x

Angry

Angry is not quite the right word really, it's nowhere even close to being strong enough.  Im upset, scared, worried, and pretty much every other negative emotion you can think of.

I've already mentioned being worried about my step dad after his recent heart op, as he went from looking and seeming so well, like the clock had been turned back ten years, then recently he has very suddenly gone downhill.  His sparkle has gone, his get up and go has got up and gone, he's pale and listless and just generally he just seems like a shadow of his former self.  There is a rather long, drawn out story which I dont want to go into right now, but it turns out that the agonising cough he's had over the last month or so, and his feelings of breathlessness and weakness aren't being caused by stress as we all thought, but are actually symptoms of a lung tumour.

He only found out today, and 'officially' I don't know yet as he is yet to tell my mum-but my step sister (bless her) thought I should know, so I've just had a teary telephone conversation with her.

And this is why I am so angry.

I mentioned recently about seeing my Father for the first time in around 17 years, but I'm not sure I said how well he was looking.  He looks about 20 years younger than when I last saw him.  He had to have a heart bypass about 12 years ago, but on the cardiac front everything is tickety boo, he had a cataract op recently and now doesn't have to wear glasses (he has worn them for as long as I've known him), and just seemed to be the absolute picture of health.  I cannot begin to describe how furious I am about that.

He and my Mum divorced when I was about 12 years old.  Mum had to fight for months before he would see me, then the last time I saw him til a couple of weeks ago was 1998.  That man walked out on  me, seemingly wasnt bothered about his Granddaughter (I only found out by accident when he had his heart bypass), yet there he is, all healthy and spritely, living his life doing what he wants, when he wants.  Then my step dad who has been an absolute rock for me over the years, putting up with all the teenager shit I threw at him, who thinks of my Daughter as his own flesh and blood, and basically just been the best Dad and Grandad we could have wished for just seems to keep getting crap slung at him.

It's not known yet exactly what the tumour is.  It could be nasty, it could be 'nothing'.  Either way, I can't see the prognosis being good.  If it is a nasty, then I don't know that he could tolerate chemo/radiotherapy given his other problems.  If it's 'nothing' then it can't be left as it's making him so unwell, but again I don't know that he would tolerate surgery to remove it.  I'm trying so hard to find just a sliver of light but I quite simply can't.  I can't find a way of there being a good outcome of this.

And I can't bear the thought of losing him.

Feeling drained.

First off, a warning.  This post isn't going to be a happy post.  I have a rather bad case of the blues at the moment, and this is the best place I can think of to let it all out. 

Work this week has been shockingly stressful.  My job is far from easy anyway, but at the start of the week the renal clinic at my hospital found themselves with only one functioning room (as opposed to the normal 3), so in order to ensure all the patients got at least some dialysis they were all in for 2 hours only, which was a logistical nightmare for me as all my vehicles work had to be rearranged to ensure that all the renal patients got in on time, and home swiftly after their shortened session.  This continued into Tuesday, so that combined with nearly 200 outpatient journeys and 30+ discharges per day meant for an extremely busy couple of days.  Yesterday was not so bad-the renal unit was back to normal and I had the other SPLA in the office as my 'back up', so I was looking forward to a nice, straight forward day.  

Didn't exactly go to plan as my Father decided to pay me a visit.

I say Father because I can't bring myself to call him Dad.  He and my Mum divorced when I was around 12, and I saw a fair bit of him throughout my teenage years (mostly because I was a little shit, so when Mum couldn't cope I got sent to his), and he gave me away when I got married in 1998.  After my wedding I saw him briefly on Christmas Eve of 1998, then nothing.  No visits, no phonecalls, no birthday/Christmas cards (for me or my daughter), nothing.  (I should mention that he told me he had moved and would let me know his new address/phone number, but never did).  So for 13 years he was completely out of my life, and my daughters.  

I can't be arsed to go into how he knew I was working where I am,  but he decided to come and see me, and I have to give him credit for that, as I'm sure it wasn't easy, but I was thankful that there were other people in my office.  I felt extremely uncomfortable, trying to talk to a man who was pretty much a total stranger to me.  I didn't know how to address him.  Seemed rude to call him by his name, but Dad just felt so wrong.  He may be my Father, but the role of my Dad was taken over many years ago by my stepdad.  Anyway, he said he'd come and see me again, and to be honest, I don't know if I want him to.  

Then we move onto my stepdad. Not long after he and my Mum got together I began calling him 'bit' cos he was a my bit of a dad, but as time went on and he stood by me through thick and thin, no matter how much of a pain I was being, that bit grew, until I began to think of him as my actual dad.  We have (almost) always gotten along brilliantly, and he really has been my rock.  He's had some major health issues over the years-heart attack around 12 years ago, stroke around 10 years ago, and a huge accident when he was a trucker in which his back was broken in 3 places.  He's been registered disabled for as long as I've known him but he's always just got on with everything, with his Northern wit bringing a smile to my face during the darkest of times.  Recently though, the chap I know and love has faded away dramatically, after he suffered a very traumatic event.

Around 6 weeks ago he awoke in the early hours of the morning feeling extremely unwell, only just able to muster the strength to wake my Mum so she could call an ambulance as he knew something was very seriously wrong.  When the ambulance crew arrived they immediately ran an ECG, and his bpm was a shocking 21.  Needless to say he was rushed straight to hospital and they eventually managed to raise his bpm, but he was still quite seriously ill.  A few days later he was transfered to another hospital to have a pacemaker fitted, and we all expected him to be right as rain in no time. Knowing that his dodgy ticker had some help was a relief to us all, him included.  How wrong we were.

The pacemaker has been an absolute godsend to him.  It took a fair bit of reassurance from the Doc's before he trusted it, but as the weeks have passed he has got more and more depressed.  The pain from his injuries is becoming unbearable (after trying pretty much everything he started using magnet therapy, which worked wonders, but he had to stop with the magnets because of his pacemaker), and he really is just a shadow of his former self.  His sparkle has just gone completely, and it is heartbreaking to see.  I went over to see him today, and although it's only been a week or so since I last saw him I was shocked at how old he looked.  Usually he'd be straight into the kitchen to put the kettle on, and would be chucking toys around the living room for the dog, but it was all he could do to lift the remote to turn the tv down (his hearings knackered too, as well as his eyes poor sod).  It really was incredibly difficult to see.

I can understand the depression given all he's been through recently, but I really am scared that he's starting to slip away.  The pain seems to be getting too much and it's like he's losing the will to live now. I'm not daft-he's 72 and I know he's not going to be around forever, but I can't bear to even think about him not being here.  I'm doing what I can to support him, and show him how much I love him, but everytime I see him I just want to cry.  It's almost like I'm grieving for the man he once was.

My Father, who I should care about is an absolute picture of health, yet the man who has always been there for me and my Daughter (who he thinks of as his own flesh and blood) seems to be fading fast.  It's just so f***ing unfair.

So this evening I have found myself wanting to do nothing but get into my pj's and shut myself away from the world.  I have a serious case of the blues (been here a couple of times before, and I don't like it one little bit) and I can't seem to shift the dark cloud that seems to be hanging over my head at the moment.   I have so much to be happy about-my Daughter is awaiting her GCSE results and is super excited about starting college in September, my driving lessons are going fantastically and I've got my test booked for around 6 weeks time, my bosses at work are fully behind me getting my licence so I can go 'on the road' and eventually move to join the frontliners, yet I'm stuck in this horrible bloody pit of doom and gloom.

So if I do have any readers, I apologise in advance but it looks like this blog might just become my respite for a while.  

Thanks for listening x

The End of an Era

It's been a long old week-spent 2 days in Cambridgeshire on a course and the rest of the week at work, and for a part timer that's a busy week!  It's been uber stressful as per usual, but slowly things are starting to change and I'm edging ever closer to achieving my goal :)

The focus of the week has been solely on my not so baby girl though.  She turned 16 in January, finished her GCSE's a couple of weeks ago, and tonight saw her and over 100 other Year 11's attending their Leavers Prom.

The Dress got sorted weeks ago (just needed some minor alterations as it was a little too big, despite only being a size 6!), and this week she's had trial runs with hairdressers and make up people.  Last night was spent plucking eyebrows and doing nails, then today was hair and make up 'for real' and The Big Night itself.

Seeing my little girl all dressed up was hugely emotional for me-I can honestly say that I have never been so proud in all my life.  I know I'm biased, but she looked absolutely breathtaking.  I was in tears when she walked into the kitchen all ready to go, and I had to fight hard to keep the tears back when she stood on the patio for pictures, as I realised that she was standing in the exact same spot as she had oh so many years ago on her first day at School.  Back then she was all blonde pigtails and a book bag that was almost as big as her, this evening she was a stunning young woman, in her evening gown and tiara.  As I took the picture I could see in my mind that little girl on her first day of school stood next to her grown up self.  I simply cannot even begin to explain how proud of her I am.

She had an absolutely brilliant evening, and is now over the road at a friends house for the after party-which to her group of friends is a few drinks, her friends Mum's hugely popular waffles, and no doubt copious amounts of Zumba/Rock band, with maybe a little sleep thrown in for good measure!  (Just in case the PC Brigade is reading this-yes I know she's only 16, and yes I know they 'shouldn't' be drinking, but the friends parents are there and I am literally just a few steps across the road.  Teenagers like to have a drink, and I personally don't have a problem with that so long as they know when to stop.  My Daughter knows her limits, she alternates between alcohol and soft drinks, and stops before it gets silly. So ner)

So that's another notch on the Bedpost of Achievements for her.  She has now completed her compulsory education, has already achieved her lifetime ambition of performing on a West End Stage and as if that wasn't enough she has also performed at the O2 Arena.  I'm confident that she has reached, if not exceeded, her GCSE targets, she's all set for Sixth Form in September and has a very bright future ahead of her.

I honestly do not believe that there is another Mum on the planet who is bursting with pride as much as I am right now.

Luyu Boo :) x

And so it begins, once again.

This isn't my first journey into the world of the Blogger.  I have been here numerous times before-each time with every intention of keeping it going but failing after a few months (or weeks).  I have 3 blogs around here somewhere which I have somehow 'misplaced', but as they were from times in my life when I used blogging as therapy then I really don't mind that chances are nobody will ever see them.  Or care about what is written there.

The trouble with me is that in the past I have used blogs as diaries.  Therapeutic diaries.  A place where I could let my innermost thoughts and feelings run free without the fear of a 'real' diary being found tucked away in a drawer. If I wanted people to read them then I could tell them where to look, without the fear of them being found accidentally.

Now though, my reasons for having a blog are completely different.  I find myself constantly inspired by blogs such as www.traumaqueen.net and www.dooce.com - partly because of what they write about, but mostly because of their incredible talent at drawing a perfect picture in words.  I can only dream of being able to write as well as those guys do, but the honesty and heart that goes into their postings makes me realise that what I write here doesn't need to be fancy or intricately written.  It just needs to be me.

I have been through things in my life which to others are the stuff nightmares are made of.  Those situations, those trauma's have made me the person I am today.  I'm far from 'perfect', but what makes a perfect person anyway?  I don't own my own home, I'm divorced, and the closest I get to seeing my youngest child is visiting his grave at the local Crematorium.  I do, however, have a job which I adore, some good friends and a teenage Daughter who is an utter joy to be around.  We might not be the media's ideal family, but we're as happy as pigs in shit-how many people can honestly say that?

So I shall pop on here from time to time.  Not to try and be something I'm not, and not because I expect to have 73242 readers in six months time and banner ad's for random crap you'll never want or need.  I shall come here simply because I can.  This is my space, for me to write about whatever the hell I want to.  If you don't want to read it then please feel free to click on the 'next blog' button at the top of the screen.  If, however, you do want to read, then please pull up a chair, make yourself comfortable and I'll go make the tea :)