Monday 15th July 2019:
It’s been a while so let me bring you up to speed…
It’s just over four months since my heart attack, I’ve been back at work for six weeks – full-time for five, my heart is now “entirely normal” according to an echo scan and MRI, my lungs are also functioning as they should despite the sarcoidosis and I’ve not had a UTI for longer than I care to remember. Plus, I’m being referred to London’s Royal Brompton Hospital to try and get to the bottom of the sarc and avoid any further complications. I think I’ve had enough of those.
Aside from that I’ve done a spot of raving, misbehaving and DJ-ing, watched fabulous sunsets, been reunited with family, old chums like Rocky and Tanya, celebrated friends’ 30ths, 50ths and my Dad’s 70th.
In other news, I applied for a promotion – got an interview, was then shortlisted but didn’t get it. It’s a bit disappointing but as I was reminded, more than once, 16 short weeks ago I was in a hospital bed. Ah yes…
I think I’m ok. Do you know what? It’s almost like it never happened. Except I’m a very different person now. Me and the kids made it to school drop by the skin of our teeth the other morning (one wouldn’t get dressed and was jiggling around the living room naked) and I only had a slight sweat on! If it’s out of your control, let it go…
Easier said than done though when you’ve been told (by your fabulous personal physio friends – thanks Cat and Liam) not to run for eight weeks after rolling your ankle at netball. I really do love Yeovil hospital…and a drama by the look of it. Due to my blood-thinning meds I was whizzed through and seen in 45 minutes despite a general four-hour wait. I’ll have my own wing next.
So anyway, I also retired from netball earlier this month…and then reinstated my position as captain after realising I may have been a little rash.
Of course having a heart attack doesn’t get you out of PTA chair duties (I partly organised the bloody Easter bingo from my hospital bed) and now my job application has been unsuccessful and I won’t be changing my four, 10-hour shifts to five, eight-hour shifts “their loss is the school’s gain” as the headteacher put it. I swear there’s a “you have to already be mega busy” prerequisite to volunteer work. Though I do seem to thrive on it…oddly.
Other than that I’m very much looking forward to celebrating my best friend Lucie’s 40th in style this weekend in Manchester with Jenny, Lydia, Louisa, Faye, Aimee and Vicky (non of whom I have seen since I decided to have a ticker-wobble). Though I’m not sure the city is ready for us.
What would be excellent though is if I could rid my hand of the warts I’ve recently developed as a result of a low immune system…just fucking marvellous…along with the nickname my kids came up with – “witchy toad finger”.
Yes…I love you too.