Tuesday, July 19, 2016

This post contains graphic photos of trauma...

Okay, so you've decided to ignore my warning - just keep that in mind...

Wednesday, almost a fortnight ago, I was headed out with mum to get her dog groomed when one of my big fears happened. I fell down a flight of steps. It's one of those things you get asked about a annual optometrist appointments; have you had any falls? I have always been able to answer yes. Next time the answer will be no.  

The stairs in question are very familiar to me, which is quite surprising. Just a short flight; the concrete steps down from the front porch. I didn't slip or trip, I overstepped so that instead of my heel landing on the step below, it skipped a step altogether. Before I realised what I'd done my nose had connected with the brick path a metre below.

This is what my nose usually looks like...


This is what it looked like after the fall...


I had one of the Sherlock Holmes moments where in the span of a few microseconds after connecting the dots, I was analysing the situation... My thoughts went something like this...

What? Oh shit, I've fallen. My nose, ah crap, it might be broken! Filling with blood, if I breathe in now, I'll inhale it, better breathe out. That's better. Ah crap, I'm wearing that cream jumper. I need to get the jumper out of the pool of blood [at this point I did a REAL push up, which I regretted for the next four days].

DIZZY!

My mum came rush over and flipped me over, which undid my valiant effort to save my jumper, but luckily she's a whizz with body fluids and saved it later in the day. She asked if I wanted to get up. I assessed the situation. I was feeling dizzy, it could be from the blood loss (my body tends to react to injury with fainting), or it could have been an oncoming seizure. If I stood, and fell again, who would catch me? Dave's knees were bad, mum's shoulders were bad, stepdad's back was bad... 'Call an ambulance.' I said.

Then mum wanted to know if she should stay with the kids while Dave came with me to the hospital. Dave hates hospitals. He hates waiting. He hates not being able to do something when people he loves are hurt. As well as this, we had one of the boys' friends sleeping over, and I didn't want the kid waking to strangers in the house, or the mum coming to pick him up to find strangers caring for him.


As it turned out. I was fairly lucky. No obvious break, though a suspected fracture. At the time, they basically sent me home with a band-aid. I did report feeling dizzy and sleepy, and so they did an ECG, but that came out clear. I would have thought they might do a CT scan with my history seizures, but they didn't. I wish I had insisted they did though, because the following days I had several absent seizures, I have also had a lot of cranial pressure, and dizziness. My GP suspects concussion, so I had a CT scan yesterday.



At least my nose is healing up!

Tuesday, July 05, 2016

The winter of our discontent...

It's bloody cold this winter...

It really is much colder than it has been the last two or three years at least. Both the Grumpy Old Man and I are suffering from the SADs from the gloom of it. It's not just us, though. The Federal election was this Saturday just gone, and it was a rather dismal affair for everyone involved. Dismal in that here we sit, several days later, with no result. The two main parties sit neck and neck, and the likelihood of a hung parliament is, well, actually not unlikely.

There was a swing away from the incumbent Liberal party, but not such a great swing as to bring in the Labor party. Enough though to bring a bunch of ratbag independents including Pauline Hansen and Derryn Hinch, though.

Some are calling it protest voting. I don't know about that. I think it's desperation voting. Anything but the same old, same old.

Let's face it, the Labor party and the Liberals just don't seem to get what most Australian's want or need. The Liberals kept going on and on about innovation and investment and how that was going to bring jobs to the country (through trickle down economics, which so far hasn't worked for most of us Aussies living on under 80K per annum). Labor still isn't listening when it comes to the environment and asylum seekers. The Greens aren't big enough to form Government. Neither are independents, obviously.

Then again. Maybe this is just Australia. Tall Poppy Syndrome is iconically Australian. The two major parties have gotten too big for their boots, too sure of their indispensability. So, like good little Aussies, the people are doing what Aussies do and lopping their heads off. We'll cut you to size. Put you in your place.

You can thank us later.

Tomorrow Erik turns seventeen. It'll be the first time we don't wake up with him on his birthday and give him cards and presents or have a birthday dinner and cake. We sent a card yesterday. Just a card. We're not in a position to do anything else, finances have been extremely tight since he left. I can hardly believe it's been seventeen years. That seems like such a long time, but it is no time at all. I don't feel any older, or wiser, mores the pity!

Teenagers and the failing parent...