Apparently. (It also breaks continental plates.)
It hasn't been an easy month or so. Cath has been ill and off work. On Tuesday the doctor told her that (and this is a paraphrase, but it's Cathy's summary) 'you're broken and I don't know how to fix you.'
Two of my friends experienced an unexpected bereavement when a pregnancy fell short.
Work hasn't been easy. Managerial caution at the highest level (some of it justifiable) has pushed one of my already-fragile colleagues almost over the edge. I have my own issues with another person who seems to have a fantastic knack for making easy jobs much, much harder than they should be, and a definite talent for creating work for other people. Unfortunately I am other people.
I still get surprised by reminders of Grandad when I least expect it. Occasionally I am ambushed by grief.
But there have been some good things shining through like sun rays in a cloudy sky.
Last week on my birthday I saw all three members of my immediate family. And it was sunny, so we went to Rest Bay and breathed in sea air and saw starfish in the rock pools.
The dodgy bit of our roof is finally - after months of stress - fixed!
Along with all the other staff I got given a Cadbury's Creme Egg in work from our CEO for Easter. Sometimes it's the littlest gestures that mean the most.
I am now working on helping with two more books. I may be involved in four books getting published this year now.
My eBay purchase of a box of 100 Padres baseball cards arrived, and I've been geekily cataloguing them. Happy Excel Spreadsheet fun!
Showing posts with label doctors. Show all posts
Showing posts with label doctors. Show all posts
Thursday, April 09, 2009
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Paean to Pholcodine
It's been nearly a week since I last blogged, and the cyber-silence got to my brother so much he even phoned me tonight! Those who know me know that when I shut up there's usually something wrong, and I guess the same is true of blogging (although I have been blogging under an alias here).
But why have I been incommunicado? Well, shortly after my last blog post I got sent home from work because I had difficulty breathing. My dear Dad who'd been visiting us at the weekend had somehow passed on his cough which had taken a virulent turn for the worse en route to me and had left me very short of breath. Now I'm used to being out of breath from exercise - in fact, that's one reason I don't exercise, but this was shortness of breath because I couldn't breathe in.
My doc proscribed me an inhaler and I spent the rest of the week under a blanket on the sofa, only really emerging at the weekend. Meanwhile at work, the final stages of the big shake up happened and some of my close compadres lost their jobs, which was unexpected and obviously occupied my thoughts more than blogging. Then I had a writing project over the weekend to do as a favour for the friend, plus bowling with the youth on Sunday evening, and then, oh I don't know, just stuff happening like a staff carol concert yesterday and things, and now I'm here telling you about it.
But on the plus side, I get to neck Pholcodine, which has to be my poison of choice. Ah, the warm rush as it hits the back of your throat. When we were kids my mum apparently used to have to hide the bottle so we wouldn't drink it like pop.
Pholcodine is a liquid opiate - basically opium can be split into two main drugs: codeine and morphine. Codeine's what you get in Co-codamol and drugs of that ilk, and morphine is morphine, named after Morpheus, the Greek god of dreams, one of the sons of Hypnos, the god of sleep. (Morpheus is often depicted asleep on a bed surrounded by poppies and opium comes from poppies - coincidence? I think not!)
One of the best feelings I've ever had was after my appendix operation when I was mega-dosed with morphine and the pain just melted away into the night. When I woke up the next day I insisted the room had been painted pink when I went to sleep - but I was reliably told by the nurse that they hadn't repainted the ward in the night; my colour confusion was down to the morphine.
I even wrote a (very poor) rhyme about it. All I can remember is the refrain:
But why have I been incommunicado? Well, shortly after my last blog post I got sent home from work because I had difficulty breathing. My dear Dad who'd been visiting us at the weekend had somehow passed on his cough which had taken a virulent turn for the worse en route to me and had left me very short of breath. Now I'm used to being out of breath from exercise - in fact, that's one reason I don't exercise, but this was shortness of breath because I couldn't breathe in.
My doc proscribed me an inhaler and I spent the rest of the week under a blanket on the sofa, only really emerging at the weekend. Meanwhile at work, the final stages of the big shake up happened and some of my close compadres lost their jobs, which was unexpected and obviously occupied my thoughts more than blogging. Then I had a writing project over the weekend to do as a favour for the friend, plus bowling with the youth on Sunday evening, and then, oh I don't know, just stuff happening like a staff carol concert yesterday and things, and now I'm here telling you about it.
But on the plus side, I get to neck Pholcodine, which has to be my poison of choice. Ah, the warm rush as it hits the back of your throat. When we were kids my mum apparently used to have to hide the bottle so we wouldn't drink it like pop.
Pholcodine is a liquid opiate - basically opium can be split into two main drugs: codeine and morphine. Codeine's what you get in Co-codamol and drugs of that ilk, and morphine is morphine, named after Morpheus, the Greek god of dreams, one of the sons of Hypnos, the god of sleep. (Morpheus is often depicted asleep on a bed surrounded by poppies and opium comes from poppies - coincidence? I think not!)
One of the best feelings I've ever had was after my appendix operation when I was mega-dosed with morphine and the pain just melted away into the night. When I woke up the next day I insisted the room had been painted pink when I went to sleep - but I was reliably told by the nurse that they hadn't repainted the ward in the night; my colour confusion was down to the morphine.
I even wrote a (very poor) rhyme about it. All I can remember is the refrain:
Oh let me sleep, Oh sweet morphineHmmm, morphine, codiene... the bottom line is at heart I'm an opium junkie. Now if only I'd been born 150 years ago when it was quite acceptable to get out of your head on poppy power.
Oh let me sleep, Oh sweet morphine
Oh, let me sleep, and dream sweet dreams
Bid me never wake
Monday, November 19, 2007
Caring husband
Cathy's had a blurgy birthday which started with a trip to our nice GP who told her that she's developed sinusitis now and will probably suffer from it for the rest of the week. Still we had birthday brioches and some nice post for her to open when we came home, and she got to open her presents from me.
I gave her a handbag made out of a recycled truck inner tube, a set of cubees (bizarre singing cuboid animals from Japan - natch), a Darth Vader rubber duck and a Peanuts calendar. No toiletries or socks from this big kid! This evening Viv and Ian popped round and gave her even more funky frivolous things, including a Play-Doh Mr Potato Head set. But she's going to wait until she can smell properly before she opens it because apparently the thing with Play Doh is 'it's all in the smell'.
I gave her a handbag made out of a recycled truck inner tube, a set of cubees (bizarre singing cuboid animals from Japan - natch), a Darth Vader rubber duck and a Peanuts calendar. No toiletries or socks from this big kid! This evening Viv and Ian popped round and gave her even more funky frivolous things, including a Play-Doh Mr Potato Head set. But she's going to wait until she can smell properly before she opens it because apparently the thing with Play Doh is 'it's all in the smell'.
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