Part 32 – December 2014

Bradford - Skyline

My ailments did not disappear in December although they became less debilitating  for a time (or I just got used to feeling alternately snotty and fatigued).  At the start of the month, I told my partner that he must provide details of the gadget he wanted for Christmas: according to the news it was the law to do internet shopping on ‘Cyber Monday’.  I was joking but it worked. 

I managed to get out of bed the first Monday and worked on my blog but in the afternoon I developed a headache.  When he got home, my partner said he felt ill too but reckoned every time the sinusitis came back it was not as bad as the last time (I was not convinced by his theory). 

Wednesday started cold and frosty but bright– it was about time we had some proper winter weather to kill off the germs.  I still felt poorly and rang the doctors.  I didn’t bother saying much to the receptionist after what happened last time.   When the duty doctor rang back, she asked me lots of questions about my various ailments and booked me in for early the next morning. 

I was knackered when I got to the surgery.  I saw a different GP again (a middle aged woman) and we talked about the sinusitis, fatigue and depression.   My sinusitis was now officially ‘chronic’ and there was nothing to be done apart from use the saltwater nasal spray and inhalation. After the usual discussion about there not being anything else available on the NHS, I caved in and let her give me a script for SSRI’s which entailed a tedious wait in the chemist. 

When I got home I had a chat to my partner.  I felt that I needed to tackle my acute physical fatigue before embarking on the antidepressants.  It was imperative to break the cycle of having no energy, thus not getting out and seeing people, thus getting more depressed, thus getting physically ill due to a compromised immune system.  He suggested extra vitamin B and I ordered some off the internet.  Furthermore, daft as this might sound, I did not relish the prospect of the drugs making me feel worse in the run-up to the festive season, and not being able to drink alcohol would make me feel even worse still.  I thought I might start taking them early in January.

Despite my pathetic state throughout the week, I did pursue a few Christmas crafts. We had recently killed a chilli plant.  I rescued the fruits for drying and made spiced vinegar and oil.   I also finished off the Christmas card and came up with a fun idea for my partner’s presents: ‘The 12 gifts of Christmas’. 

Friday evening my partner finished work early and planned to go shopping in Leeds but he was too tired and town was hell (‘tis the season to do fighting).   I managed to drop the laptop on my foot which hurt like mad, made me hobble about all weekend and turned my toe purple. 

The amusingly-named Honey Hole

Saturday morning brought a frosty and bright scene again.  We embarked on a shopping mission to the next town although by the time we left the house it had turned grey and dull.   In-between shops, we took some photos including the amusingly-named Honey Hole and feeding time for the local crows.

Feeding time

In the market hall, my partner went upstairs to investigate while I visited posh nosh and the sweet stall before we met up for coffee and a ‘big shop’ at the discount supermarket.  Back at home, I tried not to give into illness and weariness.  At least the shopping trip had been entertaining even though I found it hard going.

The electric fire in the kitchen had stopped working.  My partner suggested lighting the oven for heat so I said I might as well bake a pudding.  I had just started to make it when there was a knock at the door.  I hobbled upstairs to answer it to a delivery man with a mop and bucket.   I returned to the kitchen when there was another knock.   I had to go back up and the daft man had forgotten something.  I couldn’t figure out what the second parcel was and hobbled upstairs to hide it in case it was a secret.  It turned out to be a spare mop head.  Grr! 

On Sunday we fixed the fire in the kitchen – this involved taking it apart and hoovering everything but it was worth doing for the feeling of heat and cheeriness.  I melted down some old candles to make new ones   I made two in tins and one in a ceramic cup cake mould, then cut up a cardboard tube to make smaller ones.  Despite my best efforts the wax ran out of the bottom and I gave up.  By this time, I was feeling ill and tired again but at least I had done some stuff.

After a pretty good night, I started the following week feeling much less fatigued and despite the continuing travails, I got back to my normal routine of keeping busy with writing, housework and Christmas preparations,.  I finally sorted out a box of car bits, threw some out and bagged the rest up to go to charity.  I put them on the bench outside so they would be out of the way and within two days everything disappeared! 

We both still suffered from the seemingly interminable sinusitis.  Mine went in a cycle of:  1. Feeling okay, 2. Feeling ill with headaches etc., and 3. Getting the yucky bit.  The cycle could occur over the course of one day or several days.   Due to his fast metabolism, my partner had lost a lot of weight and made a point of eating extra food.

When I rang Mum on Tuesday night, I got an update on the distressing situation.  My brother had been diagnosed with terminal cancer a few weeks ago which had come as a complete shock.  He had been told he had six to twelve months to live and embarked on chemotherapy.  He had attended one session but was unable to even get to the next appointment as he was too weak.  Our German cousins had visited and felt that there was little to be gained from chemotherapy at this stage. I said I would try my best to go over the following week, illness and weather permitting.  Even though my brother had expressed a wish not to see any of his siblings, I had written to him which he had appreciated.  I felt if I turned up on the doorstep he would not refuse to see me.

Despite the awful state of affairs, we managed to have a laugh at a bowl of sick left on the pavement outside Mum’s house.  Her street was used as a rat run and she complained of all sorts of rubbish being dumped at the side of the road.  I found the image of someone opening a car door, placing a bowl of sick on the pavement and then driving off again highly amusing.

I then rang my art friend and we had a long chat about our respective woes.  She was also not well but had invited us for dinner the following weekend.  In the meantime, my partner had been in touch with his sister about his dad and I thought ‘oh no!  More shit to deal with’, but he said it was nothing to worry about. 

I was of course very sad about my brother and was totally drained.  The next morning I still felt awful.  I needed to keep busy and decided to brave the horrid wind and wintry showers to go on a mission in a bid to finish the Christmas shopping.  I failed and was even more knackered when I got home. 

As way of distraction, I practiced guitar.  I used a new app to learn ‘7’ chords but became confused.  I also wrote ‘Bus up, walk down’ for Cool Places.  I posted it on word press and received five ‘likes’ from people I didn’t know.  I had an aromatherapy session which was nice as usual.  She found a sore point under my neck and gave me a hand massage with posh cream as a treat. 

Christmas dinner a la Broadmoor

When I got home, my partner had e-mailed me a photo of his ‘school Christmas dinner’ which had a distinct Broadmoor vibe going on.  It took a while to figure out what the main item was – turned out to be nut roast.

Friday afternoon, my friend with the interesting ailments came round for a cuppa.  We caught up on each other’s news and sympathised with each other as her dad went through the same thing as my brother.

Country Inn decorations 1

The weather became even wintrier.  While we avoided snow in the valley, there was some on the tops.  Continuing the theme of a low-cost festive season, I realised that a fir tree we had in a pot outside was now six feet tall and we could use it instead of buying one. On the Saturday, my partner helped me bring it indoors.  It had been so cold overnight that it was festooned with ice droplets.  It looked lovely but needed to acclimatise to the internal temperature before being decorated.

Country Inn decorations 2

That night, we ordered a taxi to go up the hill.  When it came, it couldn’t get down the street because three Guardian women were trying to park at the same time.  We went up to my art friend’s for dinner - a posh fish stew and pear frangipane tart for afters, providing my partner another chance to practice his Italian (a hobby he had recently developed).  We chatted about all sorts and avoided horrid subjects which suited me fine.  We went to the local country pub for a couple of pints and admired the decorations.  

Crafty German tree

On Sunday we moved the tree into situ.  It had grown quite wonky and we laughed when trying to put the spike on the top as it looked so ridiculous.  Alas, the star lights were broken so we used the antique candle lights from my Mum instead.  There was definitely a German crafty homemade look going on this year!

That night, I was dead beat and couldn’t keep my eyes open.  I soon fell asleep and didn’t wake until 6.45 the next morning which may have been a record.  I then slept another two hours and felt quite restored on the Monday morning.  This was just as well as further bad news was to come.

In the evening I rang Mum.  She said my brother had been really bad over the weekend and they were waiting for a hospital bed so he didn’t have to go upstairs at night, and his partner was expected to call round to get an extra quilt.  Then the doorbell rang.  Mum said that would be them and she would ring me back.  When she rang later, she told me that it had been my two nephews who had called round with the news that my brother had died about an hour before.  We agreed it was for the best as he had been suffering so much. 

In true mum style, she wittered on about all sorts of irrelevant rubbish.  I said I would ring my big sister again seeing as it was me that had told her about our brother having cancer a few weeks ago.   When I rang my big sister she kept saying ‘poor mum’.  I got the impression she had thought about things since her strange initial reaction to the news he was ill.  She also asked me was I alright, and I kept saying yes – at that time, I felt strange and numb.  She suggested cancelling her patients and going over to Mum’s.  I said it might me more practical for my younger brothers or me to be there.

Then I rang my sensible sister.  She had spoken to Mum just before I rang her so didn’t know the news.  She talked about going up and working from the Manchester office and I said won’t you get compassionate leave?  Oh yeah, she said, I wasn’t thinking.  I felt drained.

When my partner got home we had a bit of a chat and he annoyed me saying something about the bad timing.  There had been speculation as to whether the funeral would be before Christmas but my sensible sister pointed out that it was ‘a busy time of year’.  My partner misunderstood what she meant and I flew off the handle at him, shouting “oh sorry; how inconvenient of him to die now!” Later, he told me he had reacted that way because there was an investigation going on at work.  I said “Tough.  It will have to go on without you won’t it? “

Of course I had a rough night.  When I heard my partner get up the next morning, it felt like the middle of the night.  I slept another hour, contemplated turning over but decided there was no point as I would toss and turn.

I thought I ought to tell an old friend who had been close to my brother when we were teenagers. I messaged her and received a condolence message back.  After Christmas, we had a more detailed exchange.  She had been ill herself and had lost her Mum to Alzheimer’s earlier in the year.  I didn’t realise at the time but she had very little support from the rest of her family and I felt bad for her.

I put sad music on which brought tears out that I felt had been stuck. At first, I thought that I had done my grieving when I found out my brother had cancer (which is what happened with my partner when his Mum was dying).  But as the next week would show, this was not true and a lot of crying was to follow.

During the day I managed to keep busy with housework and writing.  In the evening my eldest nephew rang to tell me that the funeral might be the following Tuesday and that my brother didn’t want any of his siblings there apart from me.  He said he didn’t agree with this but that he had to respect his wishes.  He had just been to my Mum’s and my two younger brothers were there so I rang them.  Mum was obviously upset and said she didn’t think she could go if we weren’t all there and she would feel like a foreigner.  When I talked to my partner later, we concluded that my brother obviously wasn’t thinking about the effect his last wishes would have on Mum, and in fact on me and the rest of us. 

I had a torrid night.  I tossed and turned for hours, dripping with sweat and with chest pains (Was it the return of the illness or stress or literally heartbreak?)  I made a huge effort to be up earlier and go to Mum’s.  My brother’s partner and her daughter came round and we had a chat about the difficult situation, then my nephews arrived and we had more chats.  There was no budging on the issue so I said we just had to deal with it.  Mum continued to fret and still kept saying she might not go but if she did, that she would just go to the service and then go straight home where she wanted all her other children to be with her.  My sensible sister would be staying with Mum over the weekend and as a compromise, it was agreed that she could attend the funeral to support Mum. 

My nephews gave me a lift to the station and I told them to look after each other.  They were coping with everything so well and my eldest nephew was so grown up for 24!  So proud!  When I got home I was exhausted and drained but glad I had gone to see Mum and to have those difficult conversations. 

After another torrid night, on Thursday morning I talked to my partner.  I told him that this was the saddest thing I had ever had to deal with.  Apart from elderly relatives, I had never had someone this close to me die and despite carrying on with stuff that had to be done, sometimes it was too much and I had trouble coming to terms with it.

I kept busy again with household tasks and Christmas preparations and did some meditation which helped a tiny bit although it was very hard to keep bad thoughts out of my head.

In the evening I went out and saw a couple we are friendly with.  He was back at work after almost dying (literally).   I met my art pal in the wine bar and told her my news.  Then my partner arrived and we got onto other subjects.  She told us a funny story about the Peace Studies and Conflict Resolution departments at her university having a fight (oh, the irony!)

On Friday, I was struggling due to lack of sleep and emotional stuff.  My partner tutted at me when I spilt some cereal.  I got angry. I was upset that he seemed to be putting work first.  Although he had been very supportive in general, I was annoyed that when I said the funeral would be early Tuesday morning and we could go over the night before, he said ‘I’m working late’ and when I’d asked if he could come to my Mum’s earlier in the week, he said ‘not really’ (which was the opposite of what had happened when his Mum died).  He said he had been with me a lot which I appreciated and I realised he had a job, but there were times when work should slip down the priority list. 

We talked about the scenario in the wider sense and the shock of it being that particular brother who died first as he had been active and looked after himself.  We then got onto talking about amusing deaths which was a bit bizarre.  After he left for work, I went shopping and saw an old friend on the way back.  I told her my news and she cried a bit (she met my brother when he used to come over to visit me with his previous partner).  At the weekend, someone stuffed a packet of chocolate through our letterbox.  I tried to find out who it was through social media.  I failed, but I suspected it was this friend.

In the evening my walking friend came round and we had a good chat about the situation.  She kept saying she should go home to her cat but stayed for dinner (very nice sausages) and wine (even though she shouldn’t drink).  We talked about all sorts of stuff but kept getting onto uncheery subjects.  When my partner got home he had a bag of stolen from the closing Christmas market (Shutting on mad Friday - the pathos!)

On Saturday, I spoke to two of my best friends to tell them my news so that I would not have to tell them over Christmas.  This made me cry again.  After a hug off my partner, I got back to keeping busy.  I baked pies and cookies to take to Mum’s.  My partner came to interfere and made some tiny mince pies which came out surprisingly alright. 

That night, I got very upset thinking about the situation – it suddenly hit me how horrendously sad it was and I found it very hard to deal with.  I hated being ‘the chosen one’ to attend my brother’s funeral.  I agreed with my sisters that it was very sad for Mum and couldn’t imagine her pain at losing a child.  But as the little sister I felt my pain was just as bad – the only thing I could imagine being worse was something happening to my partner.  Life felt totally shit.

Following a couple of hours’ sleep I was still sad in the morning and woke up crying.  My partner put his arm round me and I tried to explain some of my feelings but I don’t think he knew what to say to make me feel better. 

On Monday afternoon, my friend with the interesting ailments came round and we chatted about mundane stuff then the sad stuff.  She walked out with me and gave me a hug and I went to catch a train.  It was going great until I got to Victoria. 

There were signal problems ‘to the east of Manchester’. After some confusion and a chat to my sensible sister I went to get the tram.  I managed to get on one going the wrong way and ended up in some god-forsaken wasteland so had to go back, then changed to get the tram to my Mum’s.  The Weather was awful and I got soaked.  On the way, I decided that I would wait until Mum went to bed then talk to my sisters about how I really felt.  However, when I got there I got a big hug off my big sister.  I burst into tears and it all came out. I said it was like “Your brother’s dead.  What’s for tea?”  they said they felt the same.  It was an emotional evening. 

Mum couldn’t cope with the waterworks and when I spoke to my partner later on the phone he said that generation never showed emotion.  Of course I didn’t sleep at all, just tossed and turned on my Mum’s sofa bed. 

My big sister decided she was going to the funeral. I feared ructions but thankfully it was okay and my nephew said afterwards he was glad she had.  I thought my partner might not come as he was ill (he had gone to work on Monday even though he was unwell.  No one else turned up.  He put the heating on, fell asleep then went home again).  He did arrive but cut it fine; our taxi spotted him walking up from the station and picked him up on the way.  It was emotional again outside the ‘chapel’.  I cried on several shoulders.  It was odd hardly knowing anyone else and there was barely a mention of ‘our family’ during the humanist ceremony.  There were nice moments though, especially my younger nephew playing the guitar and singing ‘Hallelujah’.  We decided if we went to the wake, we would be strangers amongst my brother’s friends and went back with mum.

Later on, my two younger brothers arrived with partners/kids and there was more hugging and crying, then food.  My two nephews also popped in at different points to make sure their Gran was okay.  Big sister produced a bottle of prosecco to toast our late brother and we recounted funny stories about him. Then I became very unwell.  I had to run to the bathroom to be sick.  I felt too ill to travel by train and one of my brothers drove us home.  It took longer than it should have because the weather was foul and he missed a turning off the motorway.  But it gave us a chance to talk and I finally got the story of how he fell out with my late brother 16 years ago. 

I went to bed and drifted in and out of a stupor for sixteen hours.  I remembered bits of telly, and my partner making me eat a piece of toast and that was it.

The next day (Christmas Eve) I felt slightly better; like I had a bad cold.  One of my best friends had texted to say it would be nice to see us.  I told her we felt too awful to socialise but would pop a pressie round for her small son.  When I went round later, there was no answer so I left the gift under a clean bin. 

The 12 gifts of Christmas

Christmas morning started crisp and bright. I arranged Phil’s presents according to the ‘12 gifts of Christmas’ stickers I had made.   We did all the Christmas things as normal, pushing the bad stuff to the back of our minds and ignoring our streaming colds but I was very tired and went to bed early.

The next morning I got overwhelmed by sadness again.  It still felt so hard; as I said to my partner, I just had to wait for it to pass.  He replied that it was more that you got used to it than it going.  Whatever, it felt like I would never be properly happy again.  We had a lazy day followed by a long sleep. 

Overnight, there was a sprinkling of snow. The day dawned bright, but very cold and by the time we were ready to go out the light was already fading.  We had a meander round town.  My partner took photos with the new camera lens I bought him for Christmas and I bought a fluffy red scarf to match the new tweed coat he had bought me.

That night, I slept until the early hours before waking with bad thoughts again.  I managed to see through my semi-conscious state enough to realise my mind was wandering and focused enough to get back to sleep.  It was a crisp, bright day again.  We considered going out but still felt unwell, it was literally freezing and we severely lacked motivation.  Instead, I played with my new guitar-themed toys and set up Rock smith on the Xbox. I also replied to a few messages and phone calls.

The holiday period was characterised by unprecedented early nights but I did not rest during the day and I just couldn’t keep my head up later in the evening. I developed a pattern of falling asleep alright but then waking in the early hours with stuff churning round my head and being very sad again.  Thankfully my sleeping improved somewhat the following week.  I slept longer and was not always thinking of horrid stuff when I woke in the early hours –sometimes I was thinking about food, which was mundane but a welcome change.  Despite still having a cold and sinus symptoms, I felt a lot better, physically and emotionally.

Festive poster

The following Monday, we went on an expedition to Bradford for shopping, photos and lunch at an ‘Asian British cafe’. We had been once before but it had since extended from being just a corner bar to quite a large concern.  While we ate curry, it was full of young people eating chicken ‘n’ chips which was quite amusing. 

On the Tuesday, we went out for some groceries and then met a friend in the square for a cuppa.  We joked about the happy cafe staff (sic) who appeared to be overjoyed with their lovely jobs.  I told her about the recent horridness and she told us about her bronchitis which had also made her ill over Christmas. 

Please sit on the reindeer

In the afternoon, Mum rang.  She kept saying how good it was of us to go last week.  I didn’t say anything, but I thought, I went for me and the rest of the family, not just you. 

On New Year’s Eve we had an early lunch before going to meet our walking friends at the pub round the corner.  She gave me a pressie of a bag of beads from a charity shop.  I briefly told her about the events of the previous week. 

Pub decorations through a prism

I also saw another old pub mate and told her about my brother as I hadn’t caught her before Christmas.  After two pints our friends departed.  We went to the traditional pub with ace festive decorations.  We had a couple more pints and played with the beads my friend gave me, using them as filters and taking phone pics.  

We also talked a lot and I said things I had been holding in for a while.  I hadn’t wanted to ruin the holidays and with us both being poorly, I had concentrated on getting well and flobbing and having fun. I told him how I had thought my heart was literally breaking and could understand more fully the link between emotional and physical health.   While chatting to a random stranger, a realisation came to me: Because none of us know what is round the corner and how long we have, it was important to be authentic.  

We went home early and managed to stay up (just) to toast 2015 and let off some party poppers.  

Happy New Year!