Monday, September 7, 2009

A mountain of poo

I'd like to apologise for the image. I hope you weren't eating or suffer from a delicate constitution.

Just lately, I haven't felt much like blogging. Or at least, not blogging without whining.

Rather than making me happy relaxed, my holiday ended up being cut in half and I just seemed to be stressed and miserable. Lots of stuff got in the way of it being a happy time. Only stuff, but just adding to the small hillock of manure.

Partly, this was down to the fact that I sussed out a month or so back that the legs weren't all they were cracked up to be. In the hot weather back in June (yes, there was some but it was before the school holidays), the right one started to swell up. Only a little bit to start with and you probably wouldn't have noticed. Except, my shoe was too tight. Then there was this tell-tale vein snaking its ugly way down my shin. And a big bruised area that hung around under the skin and was just slightly uncomfortable. Someone dropped a carrier bag containing ring binders onto my leg and immediately it started to swell up with even more bruising under the skin. And just didn't go away. A trip back to see the consultant was already planned and I knew what he'd say. So last Wednesday, off I went for a bit more embroidery. More messing about with support stockings. The dressings came off on the weekend and, as I expected it all looks horrible. Yes, yes, I know it's transient and even today the bruising is much less. But just at the moment, the support stocking has worn a raw patch at the back of my knee and my leg throbs like bloody hell if I'm not either walking or resting it up. I've had it all done before, so why am I so down in the dumps this time?

Madette, my lovely clever baby, has been bitterly disappointed. Something that she wanted so much hasn't worked out. The letter arrived and it was a thin letter. We knew that if it was good news, it would be a fat letter. She asked me to open it. It was kind and thoughtful beyond the need to just give the news. But it didn't stop it breaking her heart. And there is nothing I can do to make it better. All I can do is hug and talk and listen but I can't make it different.

On Saturday evening we went out for a little while and when we came back, lovely blind Spottie Boy had emptied the partly full washing machine. And strewn the laundry all over the floor. When he'd finished that, he had a little chew at the washing machine seal. And pulled it out with some little nibbles. It took me nearly three hours yesterday morning to get it back in place (and work out that the seal wasn't ruptured). My finger tips are raw. My arthritic knuckles are swollen. Last night I couldn't use the knife and fork properly at dinner.

Yes, I know that this is a bleat. Any one of these little turds of unhappiness could be dealt with. All together, they have just overwhelmed the regular mountain of poo. Normally, I can just get on with the daily dose of poo. In fact, I'm the one that turns up with a shovel to help out for other people. But just at the moment, I've lost the ability to keep shovelling.

My fingers will mend. My leg will mend. My Madette's heart will mend.

I just didn't need any of it to be broken in the first place.

Anyone got one of these to lend out? I'm all composted out.


  1. There's one of those there machines the other side of the garden wall, I'll send it down to you. Sorry youre not on top form lately, it's crap when lots of little things build up and start to get to you as you feel you can't actually moan about it because each individual thing sounds so petty but join it all together and you just want to burst into tears at the stupidest thing like a broken biscuit that drops into your tea as you dunk it.

    I'll have to send Henry down to you along with the muck spreader, he'll make you laugh and cheer you up either that or drive you so mad that you'll feel so much better for sending him back! Catherine x

  2. There you are, you see, compost happens. All the time. And never in just ones and twos but in threes and fours just to see what you're made of. I know you're made of tough stuff but that doesn't help when someone's chucking it at you. It will get better. Just scream. Or cry. Or throw something. But not anything that matters or will make a mess when it breaks. Anything that lets the compost chucker know you would like a camel to crap up his exhaust pipe.
    You need a Harley. They make one heck of a noise when you're cross.

  3. Your baby's heart put you over the edge...I need one of those heavy duty poo poo shovels, sometimes when that last straw hits, you can't help but take a break.

  4. Talk about needing a post. Thank goodness I came here because now I feel better. Something about misery loves company. har har

    I am sorry that you are not feeling well and I am very sorry that Madette didn't get what she so obviously hoped for. Parents, there sure is something about how we feel when our children get hurt isn't there?

    Lets hope for better days.

    Love Renee xoxo

  5. Hang in there girl - although I know it's hard when your heart is breaking for your kid.
    I guess you can always glean hope from the fact that wherever a lot of compost is used, the garden is always more fruitful in the long term.

  6. You see, I said I was just whining, didn't I?

    Henry: I'll take a cheer up visit any time as long as he doesn't eat the washing machine ;-)
    As I took Spottie Boy (Git First Class) out for his evening walk last night, there was a muck spreader trying to do a U-turn in the middle of the village. He looked like he was coming my way and had a small bucket hanging casually on the side of the tanker.Hmmm.

    Jean : The Harley sounds like a great idea. You can get a thing (like a howler) to put on the exhaust of your car. You hit a button on the dash and then as you build up the revs it makes a wonderful 968 kind of growl. It's possible to fit most cars. So there you are pootling along in your Austin Aggro and you frighten the living daylights out of those young lads with their finely tuned Vauxhall Corsas. Of course, you can always wait until the silencer gets a hole in it ...

    @eloh: yes, spot on as usual. We have had a month of waiting for the news for Madette and it's made everything else just rattle a bit more. But what really tipped me over the edge was Saturday night and finding bits of washing machine seal scattered around with a disturbingly nonchalant collie. Who me? Yes, YOU!

    Renee: As usual you've made me feel ashamed of bleating. And there is something physical and tangible about the pain that you experience for your child when they hurt. And there is nothing you can do to stop it. Yes, hoping for better days and trying to keep her positive.

    Cate: Someone said the "what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger" thing. And I resisted the urge to thump them. I like your compost analogy much better.

    I know I'll come around again. It just seemed that I had no-one strong to lean on and, just for once, I needed to be the one doing the leaning. When the support stocking comes off the holes in the leg will start to heal and I'll be able to walk a lot more and that always cheers me up. Endorphins and all that.

    Thanks ladies. You've all cheered me up and put some perspective on it for me.

    Mad x

  7. i found your blog from HAPPY HOUR SOMEWHERE. i love finding new blogs and i love yours! come check me out, if you decide to follow i'll be sure to return the favor!

  8. Thanks for your vg advice on my blog and just popped over to return the favour. Perhaps it's just the time of year....I've got lots more pictures of poo if you need them - lion, hyena, buffalo. You name it, I've got it Lx

  9. thanks for popping over to see me! you must come back and tell me what a BRADAWL is.

  10. I love that organ donor image on your sidebar. God I almost feel if people won't voluntarily give up their organs when they die, they should be forced to.

    I know that is not politically correct.

    Love Renee xoxo

  11. SFTC: I quote from wiki: "A bradawl is an awl with a beveled point. The normal use of a bradawl is to make small indentations in wood in preparation for insertion of brads or screws, although it may be used for a variety of tasks requiring a sharp point. Its handle is made either of wood or plastic. Sometimes it is used to start a hole before it is drilled."
    I like the idea of "it may be used for a variety of tasks requiring a sharp point". I can think of so many ...

    Renee: Bugger political correctness. And I think we may have found another use for a bradawl (see above)!

  12. Family affairs: I've had lion poo for the garden (to keep out neighbour's cats). Now hyena poo ... I have a few people I could drop that on. Do you do home delivieries? Their home, not mine!

  13. Ah there there honey...some days we are the fly on the windscreen...some days we are the windscreen wiper...

    I am sending a big bloggy hug, you know I know how you feel...take care..hoping it feels better soon..and don't worry about posting a whine, goodness knows I have done plenty lately.. nobody minds.

  14. Bitter and Twisted sound like a match made in heaven.

    Love Renee xoxo

  15. Ohh i've come to this post a little late so i'm hoping you have wadeed through that big mountain of poo by now, poor you, things always seem to go wrong all at once.

    How's the leg now? Hope it's on the mend along with your heart, you'll be back shoveling in no time :)

    Sorry to hear about Madette, but as they say "when one door shuts another opens" and all that, things happen for a reason so hopefully something better is just around the corner. I'm dreading the day i can't make things better for my girls by simply cuddling them and giving them chocolate bics :)

    Award for you over at mine x

  16. What in the Sam Hill is going on over here?

    Nothing you're willing to blog about, evidently.

    I hope things are going better for your baby and your legs.

  17. Oh - I guess it looks like I've been hiding. No, honestly not.

    I haven't gone away (or gone away, if you see what I mean). Nor am I such a miserable witch.

    I'll be back in a day or so with some good photographs and some opinionated old rubbish as well.

    Thanks for worrying about me, though.

    Mad x


Go on, have a little mumble here. You know you want to.