7 Random things

My first meme!  Of course I am far too sophisticated to me excited by such a silly thing.  I don’t even know why I mentioned it. 😉

  1. I travelled the world as a child.  I had my seventh birthday in Greece, my present was a toy camel that was made from real baby camel skin.  I loved it to distraction, but it was lost/stolen the day we left Greece.  Probably a good thing, because it would gross me out now.  As a consequence of that trip, I can eat anything, sleep anywhere, use a squat toilet, and drive a hard bargain.
  2. My grandmother was an artist’s model.  Her father was Chinese, her mother was either Spanish or indigenous Australian – we don’t know.  Rita modelled for Norman Lindsay for years, until she married my grandfather, George.  Lindsay described Rita as his ideal woman, he had been painting her since before he met her.  Lindsay’s daughter described Rita in her book about her father in glowing terms.  She wrote that nanna “could make a kitchen chair look like a throne”.  I loved her more than I can say, and consider it a great tragedy that nanna never met Mark, and will never meet her great grandchild.
  3. I wanted a rabbit since I was a small child.  I don’t know why, and I always resented my parents for not giving in to me. In retrospect, I now know that they did the right thing – I could never have looked after a rabbit properly. Even as an adult, I find it challenging. A rabbit is not a good pet for a child.
  4. I can’t imagine loving a child more than I already love my husband, my bunnies, and my family. Apparently that’s the way it goes, but I just can’t see myself as being that selfless. One of the reasons that I never wanted to have children was that I saw my friends give up so much for their children, and it just never appealed to me. Too late now!
  5. I’ve always enjoyed my own company. I loved living alone, and very rarely felt lonely. I don’t know if this has always been in me, or whether I learned to be by myself after being rejected socially as a kid. It took Christian youth camp to teach me how to make friends. I went expecting nothing, but found a new world, where nobody had expectations of me, and I was able to be the person I was too afraid to be at school. I became a born again christian at about 12 years old, but it didn’t stick. What did stick, was a love of the basic tenets of christianity, an open heart, a generous nature, and a belief in forgiveness and equality. But I believe these things are inside us, not bestowed by a higher being.
  6. My big loves have always been bad boys. The more tortured and self obsessed, the more I loved them. Though it took me until the age of 33 to finally meet the man of my dreams, I honestly don’t think I could have appreciated Mark until I learned to value the right qualities in a man. If I had met Mark in my twenties, I would have been very mean to him, and then hated myself for it. Now I am just a little bit mean, and I try to make up for it.
  7. Socially, I am very shy. Most people would never pick this in me now, because I have spent years forcing myself to talk to people, and refusing to bow to my fears. I read compulsively, and picked up conversational gambits from the heroes in my favourite books. Now, I can play the part of the social butterfly with ease, but underneath I am still terrified that one day I will be found out for the fraud that I am.

Now, I’m tagging Mark, Jussi, Andrew, Emma, Andrea, Bex, and Pamela.

P.S.

Mark has just heard that his employment status has changed from probationary to full time permanent. And, instead of the 10% increase he was expecting, they have doubled the increase.

Woo Hoo!

So, as soon as we can get this in writing, we can move on with the secret project. Yay!

Update

Custard had a very long surgery, and it took him a long while to recover his appetite afterwards. He’s now doing really well – eating like a voracious wildebeest, and acting like he isn’t missing half his face. He had his first antibiotic shot yesterday, and I honestly think it was harder for me than it was for him. I have never been good with needles, the fact that I am able to do it at all is testament to my love for this little guy.

Tuesday night wasn’t a good one for me. More explosive spewing, but thankfully it was all over within half an hour, and I didn’t need to go to hospital. I wasn’t able to take the anti nausea medication though, and yesterday was horrible. I was wondering whether the Restavit was actually working, as I still feel nauseous after taking it, but yesterday proved that it does work – I could barely get out of bed yesterday after skipping a dose. Horrible.

I have received a few packages in the post in the last week – and I haven’t even opened two of them! One because the smell of the plastic absolutely kills me (I also have a magazine I can’t read because of the smell!), and the other mainly because I am a crappy secret pal.

I joined the knitters treat exchange as a test to see if I could handle a “light” version of the secret pal idea. I quickly gathered a variety of treats for my pal, and was pretty happy that I had a parcel of stuff she would love. Then I started to see other packages on blogs, and started to worry that my package was a bit lame. So I didn’t send it, thinking that I should add a few more things.

And then I got sick.

And then, I got my package from my spoiler, and felt too guilty to open it until I had at least posted the package to my spoilee.

So, to both my pals, a HUGE sorry. My mission for today is to have a shower, and drag myself off to the post office. I’ll wrap everything properly and write some little notes, AND GET THE DAMN THING POSTED. It may not be the best package ever, but each item was chosen with care and the very best of intentions. And I think I know my new pal well enough to know that she will appreciate the sentiment behind it. And I’m going to have to learn that perfection isn’t possible – being a parent will surely teach me that!

Custard

My lovely dad stayed with me all day yesterday – we dropped Custard off at the vet, and then saw Pirates of the Caribbean III while we waited for the all clear.

The text message came two hours into the THREE hour film. I left the cinema to call Matthew, and chat with him about the surgery. It wasn’t good news.

The abscess had two branches, the one I could feel on his jaw, and another behind his upper back teeth. The abscess had wrapped itself around his jugular vein, and also his left facial nerve, which meant Matthew was only able to remove about 95% of it.

Normally, an encapsulated abscess has a good survival rate if the surgeon is able to remove the whole thing, and no infection remains. But even a small pocket of infection will usually come back, even with aggressive antibiotic treatment. There is a chance he will respond well to the antibiotics, and we can stop this thing in it’s tracks, but he will be on the treatment for the rest of his life. Realistically, the chances are that it won’t be a long time.

Custard had a very large abscess in his nasolachrimal duct when he came to live with me, and he was given only six months to live back then – over six years ago. Every day since then has been a blessing, and I am determined to give him the best care I can until the time comes to let him go.

Thanks everyone for your messages of support. He has been getting lots of cuddles.

Some vibes for Custard please…

The restavit seems to have toned the nausea down to a dull roar, which means that if I take things slowly and carefully, I can actually get out of bed occasionally without spewing.

Saturday night we babysat Alex for a few hours, and despite having a worrying cough, he was an absolute angel, and we’ll be happy to babysit anytime in the future. No pictures, because I didn’t want to stress him, but you can be assured that he is still cute.

On our way out the door on saturday night, I discovered a lump on Custard’s jaw. It’s an abscess, and Matthew the wondervet confirmed it yesterday. He’ll have surgery today, and we are hoping that Matthew won’t find any bone involvement – he has a much better chance of surviving this if his bone is healthy.

Abscesses in rabbits are very often life threatening, because of the way their little systems make pus – an abscess diagnosis is often as bad as a cancer diagnosis. So please keep everything crossed today for my little guy, that he has a safe surgery, and a good prognosis afterwards.

And a big thank you to Dad, who will be driving with me out to Penrith, and waiting around for most of the day so that we can get him home safe and sound. You rock Dad!

WTF?!

What does this mean?

My take is that the (UK) government is putting the frighteners on pregnant women.

“The Royal College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists says there is no evidence that a couple of units once or twice a week will do any harm to the baby.”

Now, I am hardly advocating that pregnant women should get on the sauce, but it would seem to me that this is an unwarranted level of control over women’s bodies. I dare say that most of our mothers had a shandy or two while pregnant, and worse still, cigarettes!

I haven’t touched a drop since before I learned I was pregnant, but I drank far to much on my wedding anniversary (when I was pregnant but didn’t know it). I am also open to the idea of a white wine spritzer later in my pregnancy (when and if the idea stops making me gag), and I resent that this is being done in such a heavy handed manner. What might be more intelligent, is tackling a problem that is a massive health threat – like smoking.

In Ampersand news, I saw my GP yesterday, and got the results of the blood test from the hospital last week. Elevated liver enzymes (from puking so much), and an elevated white blood cell count. GP suspected an infection, and sent me off to the SAN clinic to speak to an obstetrician.

I’ve been given a new drug called Restavit – it’s an over the counter insomnia medication, which is apparently very effective for nausea of pregnancy (I refuse to call it morning sickness if it won’t confine itself to mornings). I fell asleep before I could take it last night, and have had another rotten day today, but I am hopeful for tomorrow.

He reckons that 14 weeks is the magic number for feeling better – not 12 as popular opinion would have it. I also spoke to the midwife at the clinic, who agreed with the doctor about the 14 week thing. She has also given me a phone number for the social worker at Hornsby Hospital, so that I can call and make an appointment before I book in to the hospital (which is not until the 14th of June).

Thursday night we did a tour of the birthing unit, and were pretty happy with the facility, but for one small detail. They like you to check out 24 hours after giving birth. They will extend it to 48 hours, but no more unless there are exceptional circumstances. I’m no fan of hospitals, and thought I would be keen to get out, but that sounds just a we bit harsh….