NOT Drug Induced... withdrawal

I'm having withdraw symptoms!

 

I love going to my mum's 'beach house' (as the kids call it ~ nieces and nephew, that is ~ my kids are no longer kids!).

 

Anyway, here I am, on the BEAUTIFUL PEMPROKSHIRE coast, overlooking the sea on a lovely warm (warm is a relative term... it is nearly October after all) afternoon, and what am I doing? MOANING, that's what I'm doing ~ moaning because I'm not stuck in my little messy cubby-hole (aka my craftroom) beavering away midst the untidiness that is my creativity!

 

No sooner do I get here, than there is a panic over my mother's health... I know she's not coughing up blood just to pee me off... but due to the fact that my step-father is useless a man, apparently it is my job to act as ambulance driver, paramedic and comfort provider to a cantankerous old woman who is... "NOT going to hospital". I'm patient (she is after all my mother and I've been raised to show the proper respect), I'm caring (not something that always comes naturally, I blame my mother... but I'm working on it), I'm organised (there's plenty of petrol in the car... you never know when you might have an emergency, there's tissues to mop up the blood, there's even bottled water for the severly dehydrated!) and I'm forcefully enough to get said reluctant woman into the car and on our way with as little arm wrestling as possible!  We get there and OMG...

 

It is NOT like 'Casulty' or even 'Holby City'... I'm shocked and very disappointed that a little man (or even a gigantic nurse) hasn't rush up to me and taken charge of my mother and then (hopefully) shoo'ed me away.  No... there are no nurses, there are no doctors, not a uniform, white coat or stethoscope in sight... just a couple of extremely bored looking receptionists, giving of vibes of 'seen it all before' and 'what's all the fuss about'!  I book my mother in (I mean where am I?  The Ritz!) and proceed to a seated area for the 'emergency' patients who require urgent help so they've come to that place where it will be freely and immediately given -  A & E, hah! An hour later... I kid you not, my mother is on the verge of walking out, bloody tissue in hand for every time she coughs.  My mother is after all of the certain opinion (not unfounded I will add) that the more time you spend in hospital, the less likely you are to leave alive!  Just before I have to go ninja on her skinny arse a young gentleman sticks his head out from one of the many numbered doors (why they've got so many is a mystery to me, I'm convinced there's no one behind them, at least I haven't had to give anyone a dirty look because they've been seen before us - because NO-ONE  has entered or left!), he calls my mothers name and gestures for her to enter the mysterious numbered room '7'.  She immediately goes from Attila the Hun to Everyone's Favouite Granny in two seconds flat, leaving me looking like the world's worst bully for all to see (...and hear).  Do I care? Nope, my poor mother is finally going to get some help.

 

I know what you're thinking... that everything following the arrival of the 'young gentleman' (yes, he is a doctor, although I never did get his name), is going to be a disaster ~ not so!

 

In true 'Holby City' tradition he was very helpful, very knowledgeable, very nice and caring ~ he attempts to 'fix' my mum; he tried to fix what her GP should of been doing (but 'forgot' to book the CT scan) and send us happily on our way armed with lots of advise and a clear plan of action for tackling my mum's health issue.  Before I go any further about my mothers 'problem', I would like to point out that 'Casulty' and 'Holby City' are fictional, the real health services of this country bears little to no resemblance of said television programme.  "I want... U's & E's, UFTL, bloods and ..." (or whatever tests they are calling for) is the immediate demand from doctors on these programmes - that simply doesn't happen... SHOCK!  I thought my mum would have a team of helpful people running around desperate trying to figure out the problem... I'm a fool, she wasn't even offered a clean tissue! We got one bored receptionist and one tired, but polite young doctor. Grateful as I am, my mum wasn't rush up to the ward or into surgery, to immediately fix her... Oh no, she was sent home to go back to her GP, so he can write a letter sending her back to the hospital we've just come from, to see another doctor, who will then pass her on to someone else and so the cycle will continue... if he doesn't forget.  If only it was like 'Holby City' my mother would be fixed and I wouldn't be looking at being a hospital taxi service for the next six months whilst we go backwards and forwards to a variety of hospitals ranging from 15 to 40 miles away. Oh the joys of being a daughter (not an only daughter I might add!) - but at least my mothers knows NOT to go back to A & E if she coughs up any more blood - after all they think they know what's wrong with her (they know they can't fix her but at least they think they know what's wrong ~ cold comfort!).

 

Needless to say it was not the best start to a relaxing few days at the beach house... back to the withdrawal.

 

Whilst it's lovely and peaceful here and the ideal place to relax and unwind... there is no patterned paper! YOU know what I mean, don't you? Please say you do and I'm not the only weirdo out there!  My need, although small, is GREAT.  I want need the feel and smell of that material that is manufactured into thin sheets made from the pulp of wood or other fibrous substances; I need it coloured/printed/foiled; I need those decorative details or features that when added to something it makes it more attractive; I want all my crafty things around me!   I'm miserable, I'm unhappy, I'm feeling sorry for myself and I'm bored... I NEED my crafting kit, my papers, my glue, my scissors and my embellies.  I have a greater understanding of addiction.  I have learnt a HUGE lesson, about myself and about life...

 

LIFE IS NOT WORTH LIVING,

IF YOU DON'T HAVE SOME CRAFT ITEMS TO PLAY WITH!!!

 

From now on I will not be leaving home unless I pack some crafty goodies to go with me (even if they are only to look at)... lesson learned!!!

 

 

 

Blah... blah... blah...

 

 

p.s. I'm sorry I don't have anything 'crafty' to

show you... but I'll be home in a few days!
Oh, and my mum is feeling much better and
is no longer coughing up blood!
p.p.s. Just so you know, I love my mum VERY much and
I'm SO relieved she's going to be ok, she's
even better than all the crafty goodies in
the world!