Five Things

I've adopted a new life rule.

As I recover  - s l o w l y - from pneumonia, I have had to learn to NOT do stuff. I physically have been unable to clean, tidy, cook or even stand for long periods. I have found it difficult to adjust to this temporary way of being. As I discover that I have a little more energy I have been pottering, doing little bits. This is where my new rule comes in.

I do five things.

I limit myself to doing things in fives.

If I see the huge pile of robot spare parts (that's empty boxes, yogurt pots and loo rolls, if you're over five years old), I pick up five things and put them in the recycling. That's it. Just five. Then I go and sit down.

If I'm in the lounge and see toy cars on the floor, I pick up five and put them in the car box. Just five. No more. Then I sit down.

If I see the boys' school uniform scattered where they left if, I pick up five things and put them in the laundry backet.

Each time I see mess I attack it five things at a time. Over a day I can make the house a little tidier. Breaking tasks down into achievable chunks is working for me right now. I can fit in bits and pieces while I'm waiting for the kettle to boil and I feel better for it.

As I get my strength back I'm going to stick to my five things approach. The thought of sorting out the toy mountain or tidying the spare room fill me with dread, but not if I tackle it five things at a time.



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Five Things

Rest

Imagine if this was your day...

8am - You are gently woken by your husband. He makes you breakfast before taking the children to school. You sit at the kitchen table with your laptop, crochet, books, magazines and DVDs to hand.

9am - Your husband comes home from the school run, makes you another cup of tea and fills your glass with water before he starts work. He works from home and is in his office should you need him.

10am - Your husband makes sure you have everything you need. He passes you a banana to save you going to the fruit bowl. You think about having a shower.

11am - You shower and dress, taking your time. Afterwards you go back to the kitchen table.

12pm - Your husband makes you a cup of tea, before asking what you would like for lunch. He pops to the supermarket. You rest your head on your hands.

1pm - Your mum arrives. She asks if you need anything before starting on the housework. You explain exactly how you want the laundry done.

2pm - Your mum makes you a cup of tea, fills your water glass and then starts preparing the evening meal.

3pm - Your mum collects the children from school. You listen to them read for a little while. Your mum plays with them in the other room.

4pm - Your mum cooks. You explain exactly how you like your fish cooked, which wooden spoon for the sauce, how much pasta to put in the pan.

5pm - You eat while your mum loads the dishwasher and washes the pans.

6pm - Your husband baths the children. You sit and watch. He reads them a bedtime story. You sit and watch. Your children gently hug you goodnight. You kiss their heads.

7pm - Your husband makes you a cup of tea and makes sure you're comfortable. He spends the evening with you. You try to concentrate on a film.

8pm - You start to think about going to bed.

9pm - Your husband refreshes your water while you sort out your medication.

10pm - You go to bed.


Does that sound like fun to you? I mean, who wouldn't like to be waited on hand and foot? Me, that's who. It's horrendous. I've been out of hospital for nearly three weeks and this has been my life.

I always thought I was a stereotypical fatandlazy person, but now I realise that I hardly ever sat in one place for long. I was always doing at least three things at once. I never left a room, or walked up the stairs, empty handed. I was always busy. I rarely sat and watched television. I did everything at top speed.

On my discharge from hospital, after being treated for pneumonia, all the consultant said to me was 'You can go home now. Rest'. That was it.

Rest.

I haven't sat at the kitchen table day in day out for weeks because I like to do as I'm told, or because I'm fatandlazy, but because I physically can not do anything else. I have no energy. It is difficult to describe exactly how that feels. You're not out of breath. You're not yawning. You just have to sit down. You have to rest.

The first week out of hospital I sat and willed myself to stay alive. That sounds dramatic, but I felt at death's door half the time. Last week I progressed to being able to make my own cups of tea, but had to sit down - exhausted - afterwards. This week I have forced myself to eat more in an attempt to generate some energy and it is working. I've read the children's bedtime stories, I've folded a bit of washing and I've chopped a bit of salad. After each tiny burst of activity I go back to my seat and sit for an hour, but I am improving.

I had no idea that recovery from pneumonia could be so slow, but I understand now that it could take 4-6 months before I'm back to normal. That's a awful lot of rest. I wish I could concentrate on my laptop, crochet, books, magazines and DVDs. Most of the time I just sit and rest.


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Rest

Morphine for Breakfast

Pain is a strange thing. Once it's gone you can't remember it, although you know it was unbearable at the time. If I'm in pain now, I always compare it with the pain of being in labour. Is it worse than being in labour? It can't be. Surely labour pain set the bar at an all time high? The pain of pneumonia and pleurisy was pretty awful. Added to this I was holding so much tension in my shoulders that I had muscle spasms. I certainly couldn't sleep because of the pain.

In hospital I was given morphine in A&E, but once on the ward I must have been marked down as only give pain relief if required. With hindsight this was a mistake. Pretty soon I needed all the pain killers, one after another, until I was left sitting in bed just blinking. The pain was still there, but I was so out of it I had drifted away and been replaced by Zombie Sandy. I'd stopped screaming and crying anyway.

I saw doctors and an amazing physio. The physio reminded me to how to breathe using my diaphragm - not my shoulders. I was given regular pain killers and the option of morphine at night, when the pain was unmanageable. I took it. The early hours of the morning were worst.

After five days in hospital my blood test results showed an improvement in the sepsis and pneumonia. During the day I was fairly mobile, once I'd come round. The doctors dangled the carrot of going home, but only if I could manage without morphine. I was desperate to see my children. Then I remembered a pain management technique I had been taught. Mind over matter was worth a try.

This was the point I contacted Dawn from Think It Change It. I was her guinea pig when she was training to become a Cognitive Hypnotherapist last year. I asked for a reminder of the technique that she had taught me to help with my slipped disc. She dropped what she was doing and rang me. I spent the rest of the day practising. I repeated this mantra and used it throughout the night:
My muscles are completely relaxed. My back and my shoulder are as comfortably numb as my leg.
Mumbo jumbo you may say, but it got me through the night. It wasn't easy, but I managed the pain without morphine. I slept for three hours too. In the morning I was able to text Andy "Fruit & Fibre for breakfast" and he knew I would be coming home that day.

I can't thank Dawn, or recommend her services, highly enough. She has also helped me to remove the mental barriers that were preventing me from losing weight. At some point I'll do a ta daa post, as I am a fair bit smaller than I was last year. Dawn works from her therapy room in Dundee, but also offers downloads and online support. Check out her website to see if she can help you with phobias, pain, weight, smoking and more. She has also written a book about her personal transformation, again details are on her website. I'm proud to call her my friend.

Morphine for Breakfast

I Didn't Say Goodbye

The last couple of weeks have been a bit difficult.

I am trying not to dwell on how seriously ill I was, but I am struggling to process my thoughts. I went from thinking I had flu, to collapsing and going to A&E via ambulance. I then spent a further five days in hospital, in quite a bad way. I've been home since Saturday and am still pretty poorly.

I guess I am in shock that my life, and that of my family, could change so quickly.

I'm only 43. I had pneumonia, sepsis and pleurisy. My blood pressure dropped to below 60/30. I had hallucinations. I cried with pain, then was in too much pain to cry. I was given morphine every day in hospital. I still haven't slept properly. I've had consultants leaning over me telling me I'm seriously ill. One A&E doctor got very excited over my blood test results and chest x-ray - she'd never seen anything like them. It's all been rather surreal.

I've watched my mum worry that she was going to lose another child. I've watched my husband age. I've put on a brave face and smiled at my boys. I held on tight to them when I got home.

The worst part was realising that I hadn't said goodbye to my children. I was quite out of it as I left the house with the paramedics, but I thought if I didn't say goodbye then I would have to come back to them. Later, when I felt worse, I panicked. My babies could be left without a mummy and I hadn't said goodbye, or told them I loved them. I hadn't written them letters, kissed them or held their hands. I couldn't remember what they looked like.

Now I am home. I think I'm out of the woods, but I'm not certain. We have a great deal of support from family, friends and neighbours. When people have offered help, they've meant it. The NHS have been excellent, I was surprised by the high standard of care at Milton Keynes hospital - from staff at all levels. I've even had a home visit from my GP.

My four year old, Cash, said he'd put a wish on the wishing tree at school. He said he wished his mummy would get better. I'm doing my best, darling boy.



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I Didn't Say Goodbye

We Were On A Break!

We were on a break, a blogging break.

My Mum was here for her annual visit and I didn't want to spend all of it behind a laptop, although when she wanted to read her book...

So what happened while we were (mostly) offline?

We had some birthdays. Cash was two, then Andy was, erm, 29 again and then Presley was three. They still haven't opened all their presents! 

Presley took his first photographs, I think Andy helped a little setting this one up.

We walked on the beach in some beautiful September sunshine.

We made sandcastles.

We sat in holes.

We went to Ikea. It was a rather successful trip. We got there as it opened, bought everything on our list, ate meatballs and left the tea-lights alone. We bought the boys one of these gorgeous quilts each, the photograph really doesn't do it justice.

We said goodbye to baby curls as Cash had his first haircut. 

We got new jobs. We're Toys R Us Toyologists. Toys R Us have recruited forty families from around the UK, known for their online presence, to review toys. This lot was in the first box. We won't keep all of the toys. We'll be holding Toyologist tea parties where toys will be put through their paces in toddler groups, hospitals and children's homes. Reviews to follow...

... Speaking of reviews.

Drumroll please.

I've started a new blog.

Oooh.

From now on I'll be posting all reviews on a dedicated reviews blog called...

(Another drumroll)

Sandy Calico Reviews

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I think we're almost up to date now. 

Mum left yesterday and gets home tomorrow! She lives a long way away and is having a stopover in Singapore to break up the journey.

We've all had colds and one or other of the boys has vomited every day and night since Sunday - yes, another bug. I spent most of the day today on the sofa with two poorly boys, covered in towels (just in case). I'm tired.

Presley missed his first day at nursery today too.

Hey ho. I'm off to apologise yet again to the washing machine.

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We Were On A Break!

This Too Shall Pass

The mummy mantra: this too shall pass.

I've said this a lot this week. Both boys have been ill and then I was ill. It's been a tough week.

On Tuesday night, at midnight, Andy and I were just about to go to bed. We heard shuffling coming from Presley's monitor, followed by a strange noise and then screaming. He had been sick. We cleaned him up and changed the bed and loaded the washing machine. We took Presley downstairs and arranged towels around him.

The poor thing was sick several times. Now he's two and a half he's much more aware of what is happening to him. He knew he was going to be sick. He put his hand over his mouth and screamed 'no'. My poor baby. It's heartbreaking to see your children in such discomfort.

We heard moaning coming from Cash's monitor. We decided to bring him downstairs, to save his bedding and teddies from the washing machine. We did the right thing. Shortly afterwards Cash was sick. It was a slightly different experience for him as I don't think he is aware of the build up and seems to forget soon afterwards. He still screamed during, of course. 

Thoughts of dehydration and hospitals and drips ran through my mind. At what point to you worry, I mean really worry? Thankfully the boys' temperatures were normal and they had no other symptoms.

Once Presley had been puke-free for an hour Andy took him to bed while I stayed up with Cash. I finally got to bed at 4am. They were both up at 7am full of beans. This didn't last though and they were both sick again in the afternoon. It was hard to explain to Cash why he wasn't having his bedtime milk. Luckily they slept all night.

On Thursday morning I gave Cash his morning milk. An hour and a half later he projectile vomited all over me. We both sat, dripping with regurgitated milk, neither of us knew quite what to do.

We spent the day in our pyjamas drinking water and eating bland food (dry toast,  rice cakes,cereal bars, breadsticks and bananas). The boys were listless. They had no energy. We sat and cuddled in front of CBeebies. It was miserable. I wanted my happy boys back. I wanted to take them outside.

Thursday night I was sick. All night.

Luckily Andy was able to take Friday off work so I could try to get some sleep in the morning. The boys were still under the weather, but thankfully had stopped being sick. It was another day of water, bland food and sitting around in pyjamas. Neither of us had the energy to give the boys a bath - again. 

So here we are. It's Saturday. Everyone feels better. We got through it. It passed.

My heart goes out to all parents with seriously ill children, How do they cope with the fear and worry? How do they carry on? How do they keep life 'normal' for the siblings that aren't ill? Is the mummy mantra enough? What else do they have?

UPDATE

It's now Saturday night and I spoke too soon. Presley has been sick again this afternoon, several times, but not for the past ninety minutes. He has kept some water down so Andy is now taking him to bed.

This too shall pass.

Photo Credit

This Too Shall Pass

The Misery of Being 15 Months Old and Poorly

My poor miserable baby.

Cash isn't well. He's got a cough, a cold, a very sore throat and chapped lips. He's also teething - molars.

Any one of these things is enough to start him crying, but all of them together is utter misery.

It seems like every time he swallows it hurts. He cries. Crying hurts. He cries some more. You wipe his nose and accidentally brush his sore lips and he cries, this makes his throat hurt. He cries again, only louder. You get the picture.

His cry is hoarse. When he talks it's like he's phoning in sick and putting on his ill voice. You know the one I mean? It's the voice you use when you're a bit ill and fancy the day off sick, so you phone your boss and put on your ill voice. After managing malingerers for many years I can spot an ill voice from a mile off. You're not fooling anyone by the way.

We're using Dentinox, Calpol, Karvol and Vaseline to help Cash, but he's still miserable. The slightest thing sets him off. My head is ringing from the crying.

I feel so sorry for him. I've been up the last two nights with him as he's struggling to sleep. He's tired, but just as he's dropping off he swallows and we get another cycle of crying. My arms ache from rocking him. Fortunately his temperature is normal, so we can hopefully avoid the GP's surgery.

Presley just has a cough and a cold. He seems to be coping fine with it. Every five minutes he comes over and asks for a tissue.

Andy has a cold too, he's suffering with it. I'll say no more on the subject of man flu as he reads my blog.

I suppose I'll be next.

At least we'll get it out of the way before Christmas!

Photo credit

The Misery of Being 15 Months Old and Poorly