Shit Week was a shit week

Published February 20, 2017 by Harri

Last week was one of those weeks, that I could quite happily forget, but am not likely to.

Monday went pretty well, ordered a Fitbit to help me focus my stress into a positive avenue.

Tuesday, again, not too bad. Quite excited that my Fitbit would arrive on the Wednesday.

Wednesday, no Fitbit. Littlewoods fucked up royally. The package was refused upon delivery at the collection point I had nominated. I spoke to an adviser who advised that it was lost in transit and that I would have to order a second one. I spent 40 minutes on the phone, getting angrier and angrier, as she continued to ignore me as a phonetically spelled my place of work. After she had confirmed the delivery address, I realised she hadn’t put the company I work for at the start of the address. I was fucking raging!

I got home and phoned the company again. I was told I couldn’t speak to someone in the complaints department. I didn’t get off the phone until I did. I work for a customer service provider, where talking too people on the phone is a skill that we need to have. The woman I spoke to was rude and completely uncaring. Telling me repeatedly, “At the end of the day…” whilst putting me on mute (if the background noise disappears, you are on mute. If there is music, you are on hold) as I spoke. I was told that I had to look at my phone and wait for the status to turn to “Dispatched” before I HAD to call them to change the delivery address. I stated that with my line of work, that wasn’t possible as I wasn’t allowed my phone on me whilst working. “At the end of the day, we are a busy call centre, we can’t be expected to contact you…” for their error…. I was fuming! In the end, I cancelled the orders with them (I won’t be ordering from them again), and ordered from SimplyBe instead, next day delivery.

Thursday, no Fitbit. Hubby had to call them to make a payment. *Eyeroll*  I had Kiddo’s Parent’s evening. At the end of term last year, we had been told she would easily get a 5, ready for her placement into sets for Comprehensive. I was told, she was barely scraping a 3, due to the fact she didn’t care and was writing 6 lines, when she should be writing at least an A4 page in 40 minutes. So being a little annoyed, I then spoke to my sister.

Back in November, my father was admitted to hospital for Jaundice. He was as yellow as a minion. A stent put in his Bile Duct has helped sort that out. He had been told then that he had Pancreatic Cancer. The Biopsy was done in January. We were told at the end of the month that it was malignant. A T3 Endocrine Adenocarcinoma at the head of the pancreas that is too close to the vein and artery to operate. On Thursday, I was told something that confirmed my suspicions. Dad has about 18 months. The Consultant advised that they haven’t seen many people get past 18 months. A small percentage hit 18 months after diagnosis of the type of tumour he has. An even smaller percent live past 18 months. The Consultant has advised that they would start Chemotherapy as soon as. After 3 months or 3 weeks of chemo and 1 week of rest, they would scan him again to see if the tumour had shrunk. If it has they will try Radiotherapy. If it hasn’t shrunk, then it will be pain relief and palliative care.

As I am sure you are aware from my previous posts, my feelings towards my father have been hostile. When seeing him in hospital in November, I couldn’t hate him. I can’t forgive him, but I can’t hate him. I love him and can’t hate him. So Christmas was spent as a family. Together and enjoying each other’s company. It was nice.  My sister and I have been trying to help, as my mother has been forced back to work.

Friday, I spent most of the day crying. Randomly bursting into tears for random reasons. Fitbit arrived.

That night, my darling pussycat was in the bathroom, lying on her back and purring loudly. Hubby had mentioned that she had peed on the bathroom floor. Bitch Cat had never peed on the floor, ever. Normally in the bath, which must have seemed like a massive litter tray. Kiddo had cleared the mess up. Bitch Cat got up from her place behind the bathroom door and moved under the radiator. I went to bed.

Saturday, I was awoken at around 0450 by a coughing, growling crying fit that made me feel sick. I shot out of bed and to the bathroom. On the way, I saw my darling pussycat lying on the floor on the landing, with very laboured breathing. I picked her up and she was floppy. I screamed and cried out. I told Hubby that I wanted to take her to the Vets. He said “No, go sit with her”. I wrapped her up in a towel and as Kiddo was awake, we went to her room, with the light dimmed and held her to us. Kiddo got a chance to say goodbye. I had a chance to say goodbye. Pussycat took her last breath in my arms.

If I had stopped to dress and rush to the Vets, Bitch Cat would have died alone in the back of the car. She died at 0500. Kiddo and I were a mess. We were both glad that we got a chance to say goodbye.

If I hadn’t woken up, Kiddo would have found her and sat with her. OR she’d have woken up in the morning to a dead cat. Either would not have been a suitable option. Bitch Cat called us for a reason.

We had already planned to do things Saturday. We went to town, sorted my glasses out and Hubby’s glasses out. We then visited my Aunt (Mami2) and went for a walk up a mountain. When we came home, we laid Tabitha GingaBitz to rest in our garden. I cried a bit more.

My girl

RIP Tabitha GingaBitz Aka Tabby Cat Aka Bitch Cat Aka Old Girl Feb 2004 – 18th Feb 2017

So much stress this week it’s been hard for me not to turn back to my negative coping mechanisms. It’s one of the reasons I got the Fitbit.

My plan is to walk. A lot. Every 2 months, I will do a ParkRun (5km but walking it not running) with a backpack on with the weight I have lost so far. I plan to raise money for Increasing my distance and weight as I go.


So, here is an update. The paranoia has been going fucking nuts. The Dermatillomania/Body Focused Repetitive Disorder has been going into overdrive, so I have been crocheting like mad so I don’t rake my face and body apart. Crocheting is difficult to do when you sleep though. All the emotional turmoil over the last 3 months has had an effect. The Derp has struck and my glands are swollen and I am in agony. YAY, sandpaper pants!

A x




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