Wednesday, 14 March 2012

This Time Next Year.......

Had a call from Laurence last night. He'd just got in from a rather fraught shift. As he was doing his rounds he came across a man hanging by his neck. Laurence had to go in and cut him down. Thankfully the man survived and is doing well, Laurence sounded quite relaxed about it but underneath I think he was a little bit shaken having never had to do anything like that before, well who has? He will be coming over for lunch soon and will no doubt give us the full story then.

There is a bit of a panic on at our house at the moment. Andrew's Bulgarian girlfriend is paying a lightening visit to the UK with her father who is coming over on a business trip. Originally she was supposed to be coming over in May giving us plenty of time to find a bed for Laurence's old room and to tidy it up a bit, now we have just over a week. Andrew has offered to give up his own room for her and sleep on the floor of Laurence's room, an offer we might well have to take up.

I've done it again. Booked an appointment with a hairdresser, lost my bottle on the day and cancelled. It must be around five years since I last had my hair cut and I must admit it desperately needs attention, especially as I lost a lot of it when I was so desperately ill last summer. It is growing back but from my shoulders down it is frankly tatty. I know that in order to grow it back properly I need it cut back to where the new growth is starting to show but that means shoulder length and I just cannot do it. Part of the problem is that at the moment i just wash it and leave it. A shorter style will mean blow drying or tweaking with 'products' and I just don't have the energy for either. One day I will probably make it at least as far as the chair but for now I'm going to have to try and make the best of it, even if it does mean wearing it up more than down.

Watched the Biggest Loser last night and my word what a change. some of the competitors I really didn't recognise as they'd lost so much weight. Some were less successful and didn't look that much different from when they started. The winner was the man with the most to lose. Kevin was the heaviest competitor the show had ever had and I really feared for his health during some of the tasks as he huffed and puffed away. He started the competition at thirty two stone and lost twelve stone twelve pounds over the course of six months, that's 40% of his body weight, wow! I always thought he'd do well as he was a really determined person, but never thought he'd win.

The Biggest Loser and Masterchef both finish this week but starting next Wednesday is The Apprentice.  Having read the contestants profiles they come across as a vile bunch and my nominated hate figure is the one calling herself 'The Blonde Assassin' and I haven't even seen her in action yet. It promises to be one of the best series to date.

I have developed a worrying trait that I really must get out of. I find myself prefacing things with 'this time next year, when I've had my transplant'. I'm beginning to sound like Del Boy. I don't know why this is. Maybe it's because before transplant was a little bit like winning the lottery, a nice dream but unlikely ever to happen. Now it seems so close I can almost feel it and I spend hours trying to work out how I'm going to feel afterwards. I know there is going to be pain, a lot of pain, but it won't last and like childbirth I'll end up with something wonderful when it has gone. I also have panicky what ifs, what if I don't wake up, what if something goes wrong, what if  I don't feel any better afterwards. The sensible, grounded me knows that the transplant may not happen and there is still more of chance I will die before a donor comes available. The dreamer in me keeps brushing all that aside and is sure beyond doubt that it will happen, it will happen soon and everything will go as smooth as silk and it won't be long before I'm doing all the things I miss. Last night I dreamed I was in the gym lifting weights for goodness sake. Maybe only now I'm allowing myself to hope and to admit how important this operation is going to be for me. Maybe this latest scare has made me realise how close to the edge I really am. Either that or I'm finally losing it.

My Warfarin results came in the post this morning and I'm dead on target so they don't want to see me for ten weeks. I have never gone that long before and I'm really pleased. However this also means I'll have to wait for another conversation with Frank, still sacrifices have to made sometimes.