The Tower has been visited.

That place wasn’t built for wheelchairs, for sure, but with  the Triride attached, i coped ok.  Cherie and i got in, the sun shone and we engaged a Beefeater for a bit of history as often as we could, who are obviously mines of Tower information, and really good blokes with it.

Blimey, the jewels have to be seen to be believed – worth, said the Beefy, £35 billion. There are eleven TONS of gold in the Crown Jewels… There’s a punch bowl as big as a bath, that holds 144 bottles of wine. Some of the stuff is breathtaking, and some of it just ridiculously over the top, but it’s all fascinating.

The Tower itself doesn’t have a lift, except for a little one down to the armoury and gift shop in the basement of it.  There were lots of places that I couldn’t look around, but hey, there were lots of places that I could.  I accept that that is how it is, and was thankful that I was able to see what I could see.

For a second i thought I saw the ex wife perched on a railing..

My unpredictable life rolls on. …. and on… and on.

As i lie immobile  ( most of the time ) in the hospital bed  I received an email on  Tuesday evening informing me of the fact that my Ex and daughters (and help potential, Kim) are moving out of the flat in which we all currently live, on Saturday. Given that I was due to leave hospital on Friday, this was disconcerting to say the least. Disconcerting at the least, and a total headf*** at the most

With impeccable timing ( as always ) I find myself in a very uncertain situation. When you’re paralysed and incapable of so many things, the prospect of being alone is fairly terrifying, frankly.

I can’t even get in and out the door without help, I can’t reach most things in the kitchen, and I can’t get into bed and undressed..

I can’t attach the Triride motor to my chair, and neither can I detach it.

The people in the hospital are trying to arrange emergency care for me, which I appreciate greatly.  They really do wonder what kinda woman I married….

Thanks to Roy, Neal and Leigh, and his exceptionally stunning daughter for dropping by. I listened to Leigh’s daughter, and watched how she was. She’s a trainee nurse, and in it for all the right reasons – No 1 that she just cares an awful lot about people in need.  The world has lots of people like Bethan in it.

Thank God.

We all (SCI) have the black dog under our beds. Sometimes he can’t so much as wag his tail (when we’re strong) Other times, he’s close to ownership  🙁

As I’m close to the Tower of London, here, I’m going to go and see it, either today or tomorrow, or both days?  Get me, crazy right ?

I read up a bit about it 2 days ago. Hell of a history, obviously. It’s almost a thousand years old, give or take a century.  I’m not an historian, so it was all fairly new to me, other than the Beefeaters and the Ravens, and the torture.

When Queen Victoria was in charge of GB, she had Tower bridge made to ‘ complement ‘ the Tower – it’s only stone cladding over a metal structure, that one.  The Bridge and the Tower were the Disney of their day, I read. They tarted up the Tower with golden orbs to match the ones on the Bridge.

They used to keep lions, wolves and bears in the Tower grounds ( and an elephant ) and when it became a tourist attraction in the 1800’s you had to pay to go in and mooch around. If you’re squeamish, don’t read the next bit….

If you took your family pet dog or cat, you’d get half price admission…. on the basis that you’d have to ……..

…… feed your pet to the lions.

Those Victorians were nice peeps, right?

I told Mark that last night. He didn’t really react, but then said ‘ Did that apply to taking your kids too?’

🙂

In keeping with my own prediction, my life did get ( or maybe just seem ) better today.

I slept ok,  and I woke up in less pain, have been in less pain all day, and I saw some great people that made the time to call in/ come out with me/ escort me back to the hospital.  Also there were about a zillion staff visiting me in my room, compared to just the two very ineffective ones on the weekend.

Thanks, In no particular order, to JuJu, Marky P and Dan, and to the many messages that I had . Thanks to Lea, too.

Thanks to Sara, the physio, who saw me when I was here, in 2013, a skinny and broken road accident victim who couldn’t speak, make much sense, or pick up anything with his right hand. Sara would agree that I’ve come a long way since then.

Thanks to my 2 daughters for their messages ( and advice ). I’ve nicknamed Amber WOU – Wise One of the Universe… who’d have thought a 13 year old could know sooo much about, well, everything really…?

You are never too old to listen, I say…..

🙂

I’m writing this as I’m being nebulised ( sounds like something from Dr Who ) – to ease my wheezing chest. It’s far too impossible to sleep with the gas mask affair on my face …

The ( male ) nurse just put my shoes on, on the wrong feet.

I pointed it out, and guessed that he wasn’t yet a parent. He said that no, he wasn’t, but he would be shortly.

It has happened to me before, but never with a female – they just don’t make that mistake.

Obviously shoe putting on and reversing are not controlled by the same part of the brain..?

GOOD EVENING OUR RUSS,

Hope this little email Russ finds you a little more comfortable, well it’s all done now , just get well in yourself Russ, am sure you soon will be, you are stronger then most able body people.Russ can you remember, many years ago up Nan Tess’s  – you 5 little boys were up there, and somebody shit behind the settee, think you must have  been about 3 ,our Alwyn, said it was Russ, Nan. We were all laughing , and our Mam and Dad, were the salt of the earth, and said never mind my old lv, our Dad said what’s a turd amongst  friends, end of story. Our Mam would say for weeks after to you little boys, no turds boys behind the settee, up in the lavy, please.

How long will you be in for Russ, make sure all is good and working well before leaving. Much easier while there than when you come home and there are problems.

. Sleep well love you lots Gill and Mike. Xx

As i was only 3, I really don’t remember having a poo behind the settee. I do however admire my apparent skills in having crept behind there, done it, and come back out, unnoticed.  Those  ‘ silent sh**** skills ‘ served me well in the years to come.

As there is actually no proof that it was me, I actually think it was Alwyn, my older brother.

Today I’m in less pain, my cough has dried up a lot, a lot of medics have appeared on the ward, and everything seems better than it did.

Yesterday my mind was full of dark thoughts. I couldn’t keep them away, despite knowing that things WOULD get better, and it was just a matter of time, and healing.  As I’m used to this happening, I am able to understand what’s going on in my head, and what will happen given a little time. I’m not so good at it, however, that I can stop the despairing thoughts washing over me altogether. They still materialise, and they still affect me profoundly, even though I know for a fact that they WILL pass.

I understand totally how people commit suicide, and  it being a complete surprise to their friends and families – they are apparently happy people, but inside their heads they suffer spells of abject despair. Those spells may be short lived, but while they’re enveloped in them, all/ everything seems hopeless and committing suicide seems like a perfectly reasonable thing to do. Had they held off for another few hours, or a day, or talked to someone, or had a decent sleep, then many would perhaps not have committed the final act. I’ve been there myself, and had these notions so many times. I know how perfectly rational suicide seems when you’re in that mindset.

I’m glad to say that I’m not in that mindset today, that the black dog isn’t looking at me, willing me on, as he does so well.

Today, I’m looking forward to seeing a few lovely friends instead, and getting out of this room for the afternoon.

If you read this and you know somebody who you think might be in this situation, then you really never know  ( or you do actually now ) what a visit from you, or a call, or an invite to do something tomorrow,  might do – just enough to stop someone doing something irreversible.

Thanks to my gorgeous friend, Cherie, for helping to shoo that dog away by coming last night, helping me outside, and making me drink wine. ❤️

F*** me,  it’s incredibly painful to cough.

Isnt it ironic that I develop a chesty cough at the same time as they cut a hole in my stomach wall, that hurts  like hell every time that I cough.

I’ve been given an air mattress, which is ‘ pressure relieving ‘.  The trouble with it is that I can’t move at all. I’m stuck in a fixed position, as there’s nothing hard to push against, so I can’t move. I pull really hard with my arms on the bed rails, but as soon as I let go I’m back in exactly the same position again.

When i ring the bell, it’s pot luck as to whether anyone comes. I had to go online and find the main hospital number just now, and phoned that to say that I was in Room 421 and in a lot of pain, couldn’t reach the nurse bell, and had been shouting for 15 minutes… ffs?

Thanks to Lisa Jones for coming from Wales to see me! That’s a long way by donkey.

And to Cressida for coming today.

F***, just coughed again and it really is bad.

Just been helped into my chair.

Sat up and doubled up/ bent the pressure on my wound is far more, so it hurts a lot now. As I can’t just get back into bed, it’s how it’s going to be for the day, and at least I can leave the room now, which I will shortly.  I really don’t like being alone, so I’ll get out of the hospital to at least see the normal world. I really should have arranged things to do, and had I known I’d be able to get out, I would have done.

When i saw one of the staff here yesterday, she and I talked about the time in late October, when she ( along with the Ward manager )  had the task of telling me that my then wife had phoned to say that I was barred from ‘ home’ and that the locks would be changed. She brought in brochures for care homes that my then wife had proposed I go and live in .. it was the night before my 4th ( and most risky ) operation. I went on line and investigated the legality of doing such a thing, and found that it was VERY much illegal, particularly in light of my circumstances.  I was also advised to alter my Will, which I did, and had to ask my doctors to certify me as sane, in case of legal challenge to the validity of my Will, in the event of me dying in surgery.  It was certainly all happening that night.. on the eve of a yet another huge operation.

The lady yesterday described it as ‘ a very awkward moment for her ‘ when she had to deliver my ex wife’s message ‘.  No wonder, poor girl. She said that they’d never experienced anything like that in the hospital before… not surprising really ? I recall being more than a bit stunned myself obviously.  At least it gave me something to think about that night, my recently ré-engaged brain going into overdrive, faced with that bleak looking imminent future.

Finding myself back in this hospital, in pain, puts me back a bit, although of course it will shortly improve ( pain wise ) and I’ll be better off than I was. Ringing the bell for a nurse here doesn’t actually result in one coming, so painkillers are not arriving as I’d hoped.  The last time I was here I seemed to be completely overrun by staff, to the point where it was incredibly hard to be alone for more than a few minutes, but I suppose that the severity of my operations dictated far more attention.

Right, off to find a nurse. As one won’t come to me, I’ll go searching.