The egg of trust and the GP

LB had an appointment with the GP after school today. He’d had a liver function test to check out the medication for his newly diagnosed epilepsy.  The doc said that there was a bit of a problem because the blood level showed that the drug was at a level that suggested it wasn’t being effective.  Instead of a level (of something but no idea what) of between 40-80, LB’s blood showed 25.

The options were to up the dose to a level at which it was effective, continue the dose (but it wouldn’t be achieving anything) or stop the dose because, as it wasn’t working and he hadn’t had a seizure for three months, he didn’t need it. It was up to me to decide.

Whoa. Hit me with the first example of non paternalistic decision making I’ve ever experienced when the stakes are so high, why don’t you?!  The potential of tonic clonic seizures or even stronger medication with hideous long term side effects.

I got the doc to talk me through it all again, and once it became clear that upping the medication was only really treating the medication, as opposed to preventing seizures, I decided to keep the dose as it is until we met with the neurologist again.  I’m a bit suspicious of stats at the best time and didn’t really buy the 25/40-80 stuff. So the outcome of my first patient weighted decision making; defer the decision.

So home, kettle on, dig out school diary to find out the latest happenings in the sixth form.

“LB has been brilliant today. He has an egg to look after as part of our work on trust and bring back tomorrow hopefully in one piece”.

“Wow! An egg of trust? LB! Where’s your egg matey?”

“In the bin.”

“What? Whaddaya mean???”

“It’s in the bin, mum.”

And it was. Crushed. Barely retrievable.

“Why did you chuck the egg away, LB?”

“Cos I’m ANGRY WITH THE SCHOOL. They wouldn’t let me do what I wanted to do”, he fumed.

“Yeah, well sometimes you have to do what you’re told, matey”, I said, putting on a pan of water to boil a new egg of trust.  “And sometimes you  wish you were told what to do…”

 

 

Clutter: an easy win

After yesterday’s spectacular fail (see here), I’ve revised my de-clutter strategy and now reduce, rather than just re-arrange.  That is a lot harder and I’m struggling to part with all sorts of things that I KNOW I don’t need to keep… but….I’m trying.

So today, it was the turn of the kitchen noticeboard-shelf-thingy. Quite good, I think? I’ll also pay those cheques in today so that’s a double win.

I then turned to my clothes (I realise this is a bit of a random de-clutter strategy but it’s to try and reduce the boredom de-cluttering holds for me).  I (sort of) applied the well known ‘not worn for two years and OUT’ technique.

Here are the victims. So long fuckers! I never wore you enough to keep. Sob.

The carer’s assessment

Real time blogging these days. Freshly hatched happenings.  The carer’s assessment which took place this morning. My first ever carer’s assessment – shame on you social services – after 13/14 years of social/health care dealings.

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Clutter: the desk drawer

Righty-ho. I’m starting a new blog category: clutter. This is partly because I received a lot of blog love about my first clutter post (see here). It’s also because I’m wondering if documenting my de-clutter journey may be the motivation I need to actually de-clutter. (If it’s not, I’ll just delete the posts and category).

A few ground rules:

1. The before pictures are undoctored with nothing added or removed (my Knots Landing box set, propped up next to my computer screen, is glaring at me right now but nothing added/removed is the rule).

2. The after picture will be the outcome of all my own work.

3. I realise a lot of people would rather sit in a bath of cat sick mixed with belly button fluff and toe nail clippings than read about clearing out years of rubbish, so I’ll flag up in the title if it’s a clutter post. But you gotta read ALL the other posts that aren’t about clutter.

So here we go.  The desk drawer.

Whoo hooo!!!! What a transformation! And quite painless really.  Quite a lot of rubbish (out of date bank cards/empty pastic bags, old wires from defunct printers, etc) and some treasures that you can spy in the neatness that now exists. My favourites; a first generation ipod, two cine films from the overland trip (see here) that need to be developed (23 years later), a little hand crafted panda envelope from our little friend who has moved back to Japan and a ‘my little dinosaur’ with a yellow quiff.

Going to have a rest now.

The disabled parking police

He he he… Told Rosie I was going to blog about my days as a disabled parking police person this morning.

“I remember those days!” she replied, having a bit of a chuckle into her doughnut (probably as relieved as fuck that she’s about to leave this madhouse for university). “Especially that time with that man outside….”

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A dose of hot face

Phewwy. I had a right old dose of hot face at work the other day. It was so bad I nearly went home SICK. Yep, sick from hot face.  Crazy really. What happened was, I woke up, peeked out the window, saw the grey and rain and jumped from Summer to Winter in my mind.  This meant I put on a thick woolly jumper and a scraggy old thermal top. Continue reading

Making a statement

Holyfuckingmackeral. It’s Statement of Special Educational Needs time again. The annual misery that is reading through some faux authoritative representation of LB and declaration of his ‘educational needs’.  All bullshit really.

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Different spaces

I got thinking about space today, after another bizarre lift journey where I stood next to a random stranger for two floors up to the office and then left that space without saying a word.

LB has made me think about spaces differently.  He uses space in a way that is out of the ordinary. He uses spaces that other people don’t use. I remember one time when he was a toddler, he disappeared in his bedroom.  I had a few heart-stopping minutes before finding him fast asleep on the second shelf of a Billy bookshelf.

Later, when he started school, he’d come home and climb in the swing bin if it was empty. He’d want the lid on and would stay, tucked up, till tea time.  We sort of got used to it though I sometimes worried that someone would turn up unexpectedly and wonder what the fuck was going on. Continue reading

The stinky goat and the power shower

I didn’t know anything about ethnography when I signed up for this overland trippet all those years ago (for the previous episode click here), but it was a missed opportunity to explore how a group of strangers live together in a mobile unit, in/across unfamiliar spaces with a changing cast of additional characters.  Some of whom were quite short-lived.

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