Miserable Bastard

It’s been a while since my last post. Why is that I hear no-one ask? I have been in agony. My twinged back from over three weeks ago from picking up a sock has not gotten any better. In fact, despite many co-codomol and ibuprofen it has gotten bad. I thought gentle exercise would ease it. I tried gentle Yoga and Pilates, but although that gave some temporary relief it wasn’t long before I couldn’t get on the floor to do these recommended exercises.

reluctantly I eventually contacted the doctor who consulted me over the phone. They told me to carry on with the co-codomol and ibuprofen but also prescribed me Diazapam and a laxative. It is common with taking co-codomol that one can get bunged up and at this point Zi hadn’t ‘been’ for almost a week!

not being able to do anything, not work on my bike, exercise, tidy the garden, nothing really started to get me down. Proper down, low mood, depression. At one point I thought about taking more diazipam than I should so I would just go to sleep and wake up when all this shit was over!

I knew I was getting a miserable bastard, more than I normally am so started avoiding everyone so Zi didn’t get them down or snap at them. Living in lock down so very difficult and everyone getting on and pulling their weight is very important. My thinking was by staying in my room or shuffling out to bottom of garden by myself to read and have a beer I wouldn’t be such a burden on Nicky, Ella and Katy. It also allowed me to wallow in self pity which is an awful side effect of depression. Those who haven’t suffered it probably don’t understand it’s something you can snap yourself out of. It’s a vruel circle of negative emotion that just drags you down so far it’s very difficult to find the energy to climb out of and fight against.

Thursday 9th April was the worst when I woke in absolute fucking agony. I needed to pee so pretty much fell out of bed and crawled to the toilet on my hands and knees in tears of agony. I won’t go into full details but sort of managed to get high enough on one knee to relieve my bladder. At this point I hadn’t had a crap for well over a week.

when I managed to get back into my bedroom I just let on my back on the floor, unable to get up onto the bed. I asked Nicky to phone the doctor for me and when they eventually rang back I pleaded with them to do more. I was in so much pain but felt really guilty and ashamed to be bothering them in such a difficult and exhausting time for all in the NHS. The doctor said I would need to get myself to A&E where I might get a scan and that if I couldn’t I should call an ambulance.

calling an ambulance felt I sued and a shameful thing to do but I was absolutely desperate. I was told they would be some time, about 45 mins, which I thought was pretty good! Less than 15 mins later they were at my food and coming up the stairs to help me. I recognised the one from when I had done my ‘Third Manning’ A couple of months ago as part of my Community First Responder training. I felt so embarrassed to have called them out but was also so very grateful to see them.

They tried to get me up but obviously my back wasn’t having any of it and I am ashamed to say I was sobbing. They got out the Entinox (gas and air) and got me puffing on that, knowing it was perfectly safe for me to do so as sadly I had not been diving for quite some time now. With a great deal of puffing and being told to slow my breathing They eventually got me stood up and I tentatively made it down the stairs where they got my onto the sofa. Despite the Entinox I was still in agony. They were concerned about the amount of pain I was in and called a doctor. I couldn’t hear what was being said but given the next action I think it must have been along the lines of “we can’t have him in hospital so give home some different meds”. They gave me a shot of Morphine in the arm which almost immediately made me feel awful with nausea and I went into a horrible cold sweat and threw up. They then injected me with an anti nausea elixir which helped very quickly. And that was it. They organised a prescription of a different ant-inflammatory for me, a much stronger laxative and then left me, unable to help me any further.

The morphine helped me to get back up stairs to bed where I just stayed in a pit of despair. I really am a sad old miserable bastard.

Yesterday 11th I stayed in bed most of the day but in the late afternoon I managed to drag myself outside, grabbing a couple of beers and a bottle of whisky on the way. I lit a garden oil lamp and studied social media and read about how everyone else seemed be coping with the lockdown so well. My friends were sharing pictures of gin and themselves sat in the sun of that glorious day that I missed in bed. I felt so detached from it all, not able to share in the positive encouragement everyone was sending out to each other. I then though “bollocks to it” I don’t wNt to get anyone down but not everyone can be feeling this positive. So I shared a short post that hinted at my mood and How I was trying to get over it, as surely not everyone was feeling so good and it might help to share so others might not feel so guilty or ashamed of struggling with all this crap. For me it was largely about my pain but a big part is also the real struggle with the social isolation. I have at least got Nicky and my girls with me, so many others are on their own, maybe without a garden or small open space to enjoy get a bigger perspective. I felt so much for those in that situation at that time. I raised my whisky glass to Venus, which was shining so brightly and wished them the strength and hope to persevere this ‘holocough’. Loki, who was sat next to me, then farted so I took that as my cue to go indoors.

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