Who’d be a parent?

This weekend has been manic and really, really tiring, but wonderful at the same time.

I woke up Saturday with the pains in my chest not abating in the slightest.  I’ve still got a stock of Tramadol which I often take for pain in my scar overnight but haven’t used during the daytime for a good few months now.  I’ve been forced back onto them by the pains in my chest again, which is a real drag as it means I can’t drive when I’m on them.

Still, I downed a couple of Tramadol in the morning when we woke up and then stayed in bed for most of the morning while K did kiddie-prep for the arrival of our two nieces in the afternoon.  A while ago we agreed to have them over for the night, Liv being 3, JJ 11, as their ‘rents had plans.  The plans fell through but we figured we’d have them over anyway as we love spending time with them and Liv especially was so excited about it.

I honestly thought we’d have to cancel when I woke in the morning, such was the pain in my chest I knew I wouldn’t be able to do much to occupy them, but K was adamant she could do it herself if the worst came to the worst.

So they rocked up with their mum and little bro around 3pm, then stayed solo later when they headed off home.  The first thing we did was make some little wooden spoon people, which was great fun, although I didn’t actually get a spoon of my own, since there were only 3.  I was relegated to being Liv’s glue-operator, at her beck and call for blobbing when she needed it.

After dinner, we (well, K and the kids) made some cakes, which they threw in the oven to cook while we got the littl’un ready for bed and read her a story.  Once K had rescued the ever-so-slightly over-cooked cakes from the oven, we sat down and played a board game with JJ, before discovering Liv sitting up in bed unable to sleep.

Eventually, after another story and a bit of a grizzle/cry for her mum, we managed to get her off to sleep and we settled into a game of Scrabble with big sis, which was great fun, even though I lost to the always competitive K by 2 points.

It’s funny when I play board games because I’m really not a competitive person – I’m happy enough to play the game, not really bothered if I win or lose.  But if someone else who’s playing is competitive, it somehow turns me into a competitive monster.  I’m happy enough when everyone is chilled and happy playing a game, but if someone is really competitive, I just really, really want to beat them.  I’ve no idea why or where it comes from, but there you go.

Once we were done with Scrabble, JJ headed off to bed only to find little sis had managed to roll herself into a position with her head on one pillow and her feet on the other side of the bed on her sister’s pillow.  Having gently moved her back to her side, the light of her sister coming to bed woke Liv up and we proceeded into a round of very, very tearful calls for mummy.

Eventually, after a call home and a promise that mummy would come get her if she got some sleep (I hate lying to children, but it was a parentally-sanctioned lie, so I felt slightly better about it), Liv settled down and no sooner had she stopped crying than she passed out into slumber again.  Bushed from the day, K and I weren’t long behind, although my night’s sleep was pretty poor since my brain was tuned in to picking up even the slightest peep coming from the bedroom in case the littl’un woke up again.

As it was, we didn’t hear another peep out of either of them until they came into our room at 7.30 the next morning, pretty respectable as mornings go.  We all settled on the sofa bed in our PJs and watched the Incredibles while K, JJ and I slowly brought ourselves to consciousness and Liv ran around jumping all over us like a mini-loony.

Once we’d breakfasted and got dressed, we iced the cakes for their little bro’s birthday party then played a couple of rounds of Tiddlywinks (what an awesome game!) and made a birthday card, at which point it was about time to head home with them.  We took them back and were greeted by an incredibly happy, smiley little brother, who was delighted to have his sisters home to celebrate his 2nd birthday.  I’m not sure he entirely grasped the concept of a birthday, but he was enjoying it all the same.

We hung around for a couple of hours, playing with some of the new toys, reading some books and saying hey to the other family and friends who turned up throughout the start of the afternoon.  Unfortunately we couldn’t stay day because Nana has a bit of a chest infection, which I obviously need to steer clear of, so we had to split the afternoon in half for us to visit early on and Nana to come along after.

Instead, we headed over to my ‘rents to have a great Sunday roast with my mum’s two brothers, one of whom was over from Luxembourg with his wife, and my cousins.  My mum and her siblings are absolutely priceless entertainment value when they all get together and today was no exception.  It was one of the nicest, most raucous, most fun family lunches I’ve had in a really long time.

By the time we got home around 7 in the evening, K and I were shattered.  We have no idea how parents cope with kids 24/7 since we were completely run into the ground after just 24 hours.  We have a new found respect for our brothers and sisters now, since we clearly showed how weak and rubbish we are.  I’m just glad that, unlike K, I don’t have to go to work tomorrow so I can chill out and not worry about anything.

Well, something’s wrong

Today’s been the weirdest day, and my first real experience of “illness” for three or four months.  I’ve had no energy at all, I’ve been in bed most of the day and hardly been able to keep my eyes open.  Added to which, I’ve had some really bad pains in my chest which I can’t figure out the source of – they could be muscular or bruising around my scar, but they don’t feel too drastic or lung-related so I’m not too worried.

It’s really odd being unwell again, though, because I’ve not laid in bed for an entire day since before my op.  I don’t like it at all.  Well, the staying in bed part I can handle, but not when it’s enforced because of not feeling well.  I’m sure it’ll all clear up soon, though.

Flashbacks (of many kinds)

Last night I sat at my computer, whiling away the time until K had finished in the bathroom before heading to bed and I started reading back through my old blogs. I had to moderate a spam message which had attached itself to a posting in mid-December, which lead me right back into the heart of the post-transplant ups-and-downs and I felt a sudden urge to go back to the start and read all through the Transplant from the day of the call.

I’ve read bits and pieces of K’s postings from while I was on the ward and, of course, all of the messages that were left for me while I was going through it. It’s still weird, though, reading back through such thorough descriptions of all the various events which went on, particularly in the first couple of weeks, which are still pretty much a blur to me, although reading the blogs I realise I actually haven’t forgotten as much as I thought I had.

That first month seems a world away from where I sit here, but Sunday marked the 5 month point since I had my op – it’s amazing how quickly the world moves.

Today has been K’s day – she finally finished her college course, which I rather unhelpfully got in the way of before Christmas – handing in her dissertation and doing a presentation to her main tutor. He has told her that she’s already passed with the highest grade possible (Level 3) without even having handed her dissertation in and that her presentation was the best and most professional he’s ever received for a student.

Now, we all know that K is wonderful, amazing, intelligent and a whole load of other incredibly positive adjectives as well, but it often passes her by completely. Having someone who actually matters (as opposed to… you know… me) tell it to her, and to have a piece of paper telling her it’s true, seems to have made the world of difference as for at least a few hours today, she actually believed it herself.

After picking her up from her presentation, all bouncing, bubbly and beautiful, we headed to the flicks to catch Flashbacks of a Fool, the new Daniel Craig film. No one can say that since being passed the mantel of Bond that Craig’s left himself open to type-casting. He’s working incredibly hard to make sure that all the time he’s contracted as Bond, he’s not letting his career slide, turning in some great performances in smaller, more independent fair like this. And he is excellent in it, let me assure you. There’s a scene towards the end of the film where he confronts/approaches/meets Claire Forlani’s character (something of a blast from his past) in a graveyard and his eyes are simply mesmerizing.

The film itself is a cleverly-structured deconstruction of the life of a Hollywood mega-star for whom bad news forces him to remember a time he’s spent a lifetime trying to escape from. What could be scene as a somewhat hokey narrative device become an interesting and plausible plot device by being plastered across the film’s title. Knowing you’re going to be dealing with flashbacks restrains you from dismissing them as is so common in modern movie-making. What’s more, they’re actually accomplished in a much more deft and sensible manner than many films who aren’t so up-front about their usage.

The cast is uniformly excellent, with a couple of exceptions who don’t really need mentioning as the don’t really spoil the film. The flashback sequence is perhaps a little on the slow side, perhaps a touch too long, but it’s impact is undeniable and the Daniel Craig bookends so riveting and absorbing you forgive the sluggishness of the middle portion.

It’s undoubtedly one to check out, although it’s not the most happy, uplifting film in the world. Precise and carefully, considerately put together, but heart-warming it is not. Check it out, if you don’t mind taking a tissue or two.

Where did all the babies come from?

Today K and I popped along to a friend of ours’ renaming ceremony (like a wedding but not, it’s a long story).  I walked in the door to be greeted by a phalanx of lovely ladies with whom I used to enjoy nights out after work at the Theatre and, for that matter, enjoyed messing around with (not like that!) at work in the Theatre.  The troubling thing about all these ladies I knew so well but haven’t seen for ages is that every single one of them were holding babies.  And not just littl’uns they’d borrowed for the say: actual, honest-to-God offspring of the person holding them.

I know I’m not the oldest man on the planet (although I’m a lively age if you combine me and my donor’s ages), but it didn’t half feel weird to see so many friends with kids.  Not content with missing out on new boyfriends, weddings, promotions at work and all that gubbins over the last couple of years since I left work after becoming too ill, it seems I’ve also managed to miss the birth of a whole new generation of bairns who will no doubt one day rule the Theatre and the City.

If most of the guest weren’t running around changing, feeding and chasing sprogs, they were doing their best to look after those whose arrivals were imminent.  I’ve never seen such a collection of virility in one place at one time.  The invitation said “bring a bottle” but I didn’t think it meant it that way.

Still, baby scares aside, it was an awesome afternoon.  I’ve missed out on so many of Lea’s major events in her life over the last couple of years – her engagement, the birth of her daughter, her daughter’s Christening – all because I was too ill to contemplate an afternoon out of the house or I was couped up in hospital, so it was amazing to be part of this one.  It was another solid reminder of the way my life has changed in the last five months.

It was funny seeing all my old workmates again, too, as most of them haven’t seen me post-transplant, so it was great to see so many people’s reactions.  Many of them had followed K’s blogs through the ups and downs and were chuffed to finally see me, which is always a nice feeling.

In the evening we shot over to the ‘rents to catch up with my Gramps over dinner.  He’s been a bit down after he had to cancel a holiday to Devon because he had another DVT, but he seems to have rallied pretty well, which was good to see.  He’s still an amazing man for a 92-year-old and is still capable of things that a lot of 70-year-olds would struggle with, but after a few DVTs he’s been warned off plane travel, which means no more of his over-seas holidays exploring jungles and safari-ing.  It’s really sad for him and I know exactly how he feels after 3 years of not being able to leave the country.  I’m the lucky one in that I can now enjoy my freedom, whilst his is being curtailed, but he seems happy enough for now, which is encouraging.  Either that or he’s being all stiff-upper-lip about it, which is perfectly possible, too.

In an effort to keep up as much rest as I can this week after Tresco, we didn’t hang about too late and got back home and in bed by 10.30, which I have to admit was pretty nice.

I am chilling out – honest

Maybe not as much as I should be after last weeks’ exertions, but I am chilling.  I slept in till 9am today.  (I secretly wanted to sleep till midday, but apart from my Tac alarm getting in the way, my body decided it was awake enough to rise at 9.  I’ve always said my body is an idiot).

Tuesday was a stupidly busy day for us as we were both in London, both for interview.  K had another Uni interview, about which she should hear on Monday and I had a job interview for a Theatrical post in a large, well-known company.  Sadly for me, my lack of West End experienced counted against me, as the job is maternity cover and they wanted someone who can hit the ground running.  That said, I did have a lovely chat with one of the guys who interviewed me today and he said they really liked me and would like to work with me in the future, so that is – as K pointed out – about the best kind of “no” you can get.

Tuesday was doubly hard as our journey home from Tresco was an epic 14-hour affair, leaving the Island at 1pm Monday afternoon and finally getting in to our hotel in London at 3am after a pretty-much non-stop journey on 2 ferries and in 2 separate cars.  4 hours sleep pre-interview is never the best of preparations, but I think we both acquitted ourselves well, as was born out by my response today and, I hope, by K’s on Monday – we’ll see, fingers crossed.

I also got a rather lovely mention by Bill Bryson on Chris Evans’ Radio 2 show on Tuesday (or Wednesday) when he was discussing litter-picking in the UK.  Quite what relation I bear to that I don’t know, but it’s always nice to know someone’s thinking about you, especially when they’re thinking about you on national radio.

Yesterday I was up at 8.30 because some idiot (who may or may not have been me) booked my car in for a service on the day we returned on Tresco/London.  Clever boy.  I bundled myself out of the flat into the early morning (OK, I know it’s not that early, but it felt it, damnit!) and dawdled over to Westcroft with my car, swapped it for the loan car, which, to my annoyance, was running on empty, so scooted over to the petrol station for fuel, pulling up at the pump and promptly stalling, having forgotten I’d switched from Auto to Manual at the garage.

After returning home and trying to stay awake for an hour, I finally succumbed and took myself back to bed, sleeping till 1.30, which I really needed and then spending the rest of the day in my comfy sofa-clothes and watching TV or surfing the ‘net, absolutely refusing to do any work.

Today, after a good, solid night’s sleep, we caught up with our nieces and nephew, who it felt like we hadn’t seen in an age, and their mum and dad (the latter of whom stopped in on his way past during work).  Once the little ones had toddled back off with Mum, the eldest, JJ , stayed with us to get some homework done and have a revision session with K.

Having duped us out of timing her English assignment, we played a couple of games, had lunch, put her nose back to the grindstone and then took her home, following which we stopped in a my ‘rents to collect a CD of photos from the weekend my Dad had made up for us, then shooting on over to Costco with K’s mum to pick up our monthly “big stuff” shop.

Costco really is amazing, but it’s not the world’s greatest place when you’re tired, as K was today and I increasingly became on my way round.  Still, it got done and that’s the main thing.

This evening, after grabbing some food with K’s ‘rents I’ve been trying to catch up on a little email and planning another early night as I have to be up in the morning to take K in to work and then probably ought to be getting on with some work of my own.

The response to Tresco has been absolutely amazing – we’re now nearing £1,500 in sponsorship, which is fantastic, but the number of people who have been moved and inspired by our exploits over the weekend is phenomenal; I really didn’t expect a reaction like this at all.  It’s been more amazing that I could have possibly imagined.  Thank you to everyone who’s sponsored me, emailed me, encouraged me and just generally helped me through the last few months, and the even hard few months that preceded them.