Once Upon A Time

Once upon a time, in the distant annals of the past, there was a Guy. He wasn't especially smart, not very social, not much to look at, and definitely not the sort to call attention to himself.

He did, however, have quite a vivid imagination. He would arrange games from all sorts of genres: from high fantasy, to gritty sci-fi; cyberpunk to horror; vampire and fairies, kings and robots... He could throw on some old rags and be the helpful beggar. Some dark robes and be the malevolent necromancer. A suit, and a suave businessman. A heavy suit of chain mail, and be the most noble of knights...

After a time, when He could no longer run around a forest or a cave system, battering all and sundry with weaponry, His realm became based around a table. He would produce maps and props, do accents and have fun with his friends. He would entertain friends and strangers alike, from His own dinner table, to a corner of a local pub, up to entertaining complete strangers for the companies that wrote the systems He would use, to the point that He would be told six months in advance that He had to write an entire scenario for a large group - for competition-level adventures. And when that became too much, He moved into cyberspace. While no one could hear Him or see Him, He used his written word to tell the story, to lead people across vast realms, to battle evil, and to save the day. His days were filled with maps and private conversations, notes and plotting, scripting adversaries and rolling dice for random outcomes.

And then one day, something happened. His real-life Princess was lost, and with it, his imagination. With her passing, He could feel the characters and the places slipping away. The costumes seemed strange, the acting-out imaginary stories an odd pass-time, and finally, pretending to be someone in front of others was so bizarre, He grew shy and embarrassed. Even hiding behind words and a screen seemed too much, and the worlds and characters, places and villains - they all seemed stupid and slipped further and further from His priorities, and a stasis fell across His imagination.

Days, weeks, months and, eventually, years slipped by. Now and then, something would spark in the back of His mind, but then would fade almost as suddenly as it appeared. The people around Him changed... Some grew up and changed. Some grew up and left. Over time, others came into His life to fill the void left by others, but none understood the passion He once felt for his hobbies. Some would look at him with a strange look, some would chuckle, others would outright ridicule Him, and the thought of rolling dice and pretending to be someone He was not seemed beyond stupid.

One year, an invitation arrived - to attend a party with friends, and to solve a murder while assuming the mantle of a different person. Role-Playing had effectively muscled its way into His life, and there was nothing He could do to avoid it. As the day and time grew closer, His nervousness and embarrassment increased. In reality, it shouldn't have been so difficult. A scripted character, a list of ideas for costumes and props, and to add to the things which would have made things easier, the character was already scripted as nervous - which played into His wheelhouse.

The night came and went, much laughter and fun was had. The nervous vicar did not commit the murder, nor did He explode into flame on the spot. That isn't to say that He didn't will himself to disappear a multitude of times over the course of the evening, but He did indeed survive. The people around were friends and loved ones, and some were as nervous as He.

But all He could think, was how far He had fallen. A scripted character? Told what to wear? Told what to SAY??

Even this, however, did not return His imagination. Despite being very aware of himself, and how this should have been child's play, He struggled to play to the simple role.

A year later, and another murder mystery. The murder of the doctor put the suave ladies man and famous cricketer of the 1920s firmly into the "Suspect Number One" position. This man was not a nervous vicar, but a loud, brave, flirty ladies man.

The real person, however, while He could be loud, was most certainly not loud, brave and flirtatious - especially around His assembled friends and loved ones. Once again, He felt the pangs of performing from a script, but He tried his best, and even now is unsure if He managed to convince people that He was not shaking in His suspenders and cap.

Over the course of the evening, however, someone said something He never thought He would hear, but struck the same chord as being told that He would be role-playing for the evening.

Someone suggested that - thanks to his background - perhaps HE should write a murder-mystery evening... Create the scenario, make the characters, plot out the evening with scripts, revelations, clues, and host it.

If you have been paying attention to this tale, you would realise that that is exactly what He used to do - many many years before.

Before He became a nervous wreck.

Before He would panic in normal social situations.

Before He would be laughed at for His hobby.

Before He lost the fair Princess.

The subject cropped up several times over the course of the evening, but He laughed and shook His head - while at the same time feeling terror at the very thought of it.

He journeyed home that night, climbed into bed with his Queen, and, despite the late hour, lay reading, immersing himself in a world of high fantasy once more.

After a time, His eyes grew heavy, and He placed his book down, settled under the covers and set to sleep. But, as is common knowledge, He was not sleeping. Instead, His mind was replaying the evening, cringing at His comments, His abilities, His accent, dwelling on things He had done and said. And, eventually, it replayed the "You should run a murder mystery night..." comment from His own Queen.

Again, the fear and nervousness crept over His mind like a shroud, but this time - maybe the late hour, maybe the alcohol - but along with the worry of such a situation, the spark flared once again. The rest of the night, it seemed, was filled with Him virtually arguing with Himself. Could He do it? Should He do it? What if this, What if that...

And so, today, the strange, nervous, worrying Guy is wondering if He could manage it.

Honestly - despite thinking and considering and debating all night, He isn't sure if He could manage it. And yet, at the same time as thinking He couldn't do it, He's also thinking about the setting, the era, the characters, even the victim...

Time will tell, I suppose. Maybe the spark will remain, maybe it will fade once again. And while He is considering, He is not setting anything in stone. On one hand, there is the thought of failure - to fail to produce something fun and imaginative, failing to meet the deadline He sets, failing to create something fun and engaging. On the other hand, there is the thought of performing in front of others, and putting Himself out for all to see - if the evening fails or there are glaring errors, they cannot be blamed on a company or unknown individual... They would fall squarely upon His own lap.

Time will tell.

A Weeks Hiatus

So, it has to be said that, one week on, I am not missing anything that is Facebook-related. Not the petty arguments, the flame wars, random people being offended by random posts/shares, and certainly not those making wild, outrageous and downright nasty comments either in general, or on world events...

And I have to be honest here - there's not actually anything that interesting there anyway. If you get your world news or world views from Facebook, it's probably too late for you already. Half the "really funny" stuff is older than rock, and the other half is filled with videos of people pissing around on Vine.

I did get one message - a text, that is, I'm logged out of Facebook AND Facebook Messenger - asking why I was posting so much to Facebook, considering I'm apparently sulking and not on there... Turns out my Twitter feed is linked to my Facebook account, so each time I Tweet, Facebook posts it. So if you think I'm on Facebook, I'm really not - the fact it says "Posted from Twitter" or whatever should be the biggest giveaway there!

Other than that, it's been a long week - mainly because (as alluded to before) my medical crap is definitely kicking my arse at the moment. My meds are doing squat, and my body feels like it's slowly spiralling and shutting down... I DID have an appointment with a pain management clinic, but thanks to my brain being - well, my brain - I got confused on dates, times and locations of said-appointment. Needless to say, I went to the wrong place. At the wrong time. On the wrong day. AFTER missing my appointment. So, they discharged me as clearly I was wasting their time. Despite Kellie phoning and explaining the situation.

So that's been nice.

It's not just the physical shit that has been flying into the fan... No no, that'd be easy. And manageable. No, it's also the mental shit. Having to be told and reminded and retold of a date or time or to do something. Reading through stuff but getting absolutely nowhere fast. Failing to follow plots or characters in TV programs. Slurring and getting tongue tied and muddled up trying to form simple sentences... It's all been a bit much for me really. As usual, some days are worse than others - it's all I can do to get up and put on pyjamas some days - but it's definitely been hard for me this year.

I've found my energy levels are a lot worse than they have been too... I have resorted to collapsing in bed if my body thinks it needs to crash. A few weeks ago, I slept from Friday through til Monday, only waking once or twice. This week, I went to bed Friday lunchtime and woke up Saturday evening. I think my body isn't quite so happy with my usual "just push through it" routine, and has taken to punishing me.

My sleep is all screwed up too, and I've resorted to Amytriptyline once again, but not every night. However, on it or off it, my brain keeps funny hours. We might go to bed at ten, and I'll flake out within half an hour... Only to wake at half two, toss and turn for a couple of hours, resort to reading or putting on something quiet to watch... By half five I give up and get up, and then carry on through awake til bedtime the following night. The other side of that suck salad, is the complete opposite. We'll got to bed, and I take a tablet... Only to lay wide awake til three or four, at which point my brain remembers it's been drugged, and puts me to sleep - and there I stay til early afternoon.

So for those wondering, yes I'm still "ill" and no my body isn't improved or better.

Ho hum.

In other news, I finally got a Chromecast, and if you don't have one, I really really highly recommend it. Easy to set up, even easier to use... I'm fairly sure even older people will understand it!

And last but not least, after a rather long break from World of Warcraft, the boys have managed to twist my arm and get me interested again... That, and the cinematic for the next expansion looks stunning, plus the upcoming Warcraft movie looks amazing. World of Warcrack has, slowly but surely, sucked me back in over the last couple of weeks! Dom even bought me the current expansion - though I suspect his ulterior motive was more that he always looked so sad and disappointed when he realised I played Minecraft!

Hopefully, getting back into WoW will help divert my attention away from the pain and general suckiness that is my body. That might sound like a bad thing, but it's not, I promise. I always used to enjoy Warcraft for the escapism aspect, as well as the fact it distracts me from the pain shooting through my body!

In general, life is just plodding on here at Chez English. Poppy keeps us all entertained, busy and on our toes - and she is definitely spoiled by everyone. But then, I think it's her right as youngest, prettiest and most evil (she clearly has evil mind-control powers) to be doted on by brothers, sisters, grandparents, friends, family and random strangers on the bus.

For any of the TL;DR crowd out there... Still not on Facebook, still ill, going back to wow, Poppy is great.

Dear Facebook "Friends"

This might seem like a strange thing to see on your feeds, but for the time being - and for a while yet - I am staying off and away from Facebook. I'm not quitting it, I'm not spitting my dummy out, I'm not throwing my toys out the pram...

But after this weekend, seeing the things quite a few of you have been posting, I just can't bear to scroll through my news feed and see what random nasty shit I'm going to see one of you sharing next.

So, Paris. The shit that went down there on Friday was horrendously awful. I don't know what it was about the attacks there - and, let's be honest, everywhere ELSE in the world on the same day - but it shook my faith in the world a little more than usual. It left me wondering at the state of our planet, and for some odd reason, I thought maybe my friends would be able to make me smile and pick me up.

And, for the most part, my friends restored a little of my faith in humanity. Only for a few of you to kick it back over.

Some of the nasty, racist, horrible things I've seen shared this weekend have me wondering how well I actually know some of my "friends", and as a status update alluded to on Saturday, how some of you managed to hijack the events in Paris and use them for your own agenda.

For starters, the religious bullshit some people were spouting was horrific. It's a well know, well documented fact that I am not religious. Not even a little bit. I've had my run-ins with some crazy religious sorts, but never have I outwardly slammed someone's religion. But the anti-Muslim crap some people were spouting... Just... Wow. Clearly, I am friends with some really intolerant people.

Blaming a whole religion for a minority of terrible people is akin to blaming all Americans for gun crime.

I'm not going to name the terror group responsible for these atrocities, I refuse to give them ANY space on my blog, but when people blame an entire religion for the actions of a few - congratulations, you're just backing up their agenda, and proving to other Muslims that their crazy point of views are correct, that the West hates them all.

Do a bit of research folks. You'll see that in the last two years, That Group have killed something like a quarter of a million Muslims across the Middle East. And yet, clearly, according to some of you, all Muslims are to blame.

Next, the people that somehow swung the situation to problems with immigration. Those of you that posted things like "when you take in all the immigrants, this is what you get" seriously need to take stock of your screwed up view of the world. Yes, amongst those poor, terrified, fleeing victims, there may well be some rotten apples. But that doesn't justify ignoring the entire situation. These people are fleeing the SAME asshats that are to blame for these acts. Having complete and utter cocks like Trump using Friday nights attacks as proof that he's the man for the job, and his wall is needed, and all the rest of his shit...

Seriously, the guy is a fucking tool. Hey Americans, you're almost all grown from the roots of immigrants! You're listening to a dick with shit hair, one that sells hotels and appears on shit TV, and are considering voting him in as your leader! Get a grip!

I'm tired and pissed off. Sue me.

Back to my point on immigrants. There were people pointing out and screaming "told you so!" on Friday night, that letting in the Syrian refugees (because that's what they are, refugees. Honestly, look up the difference between Refugee and Immigrant) would cause terror attacks... The people they're looking for in France? Oh wait, yes, all settled in Europe for years. Good call twats.

On top of all this, I've seen people in the States pointing out that these attacks are the reason to be pro guns. Seriously, events half a world away do not have any bearing on whether or not you get to carry your gun around. Stop banging on your drum.

And the racist angle has been thrown out there this weekend too... Some of you have gone from blaming an entire religion, to blaming an entire race. Good job!

I honestly saw some of the things being shared this weekend, and I couldn't believe what I was looking at. It was bad enough so much shit happened in the world this weekend. It's made worse by the fact that so much shit happens on a regular basis. But the part that is really hard for me to swallow, is the part that a lot of what I have been reading has been hate, racism, anti-religious crap, and people using these events to put across their point of view.

And you know what will happen if these people are pulled up on their shit? "Oh it's freedom of speech, it's my point of view, you don't have to like it" or similar crap.

And you know what, that's fine. Just as it's fine that I have vented what I think. Don't like it? Think I'm a sap? Guess what... Tough shit. Freedom. Of. Speech.

Incidentally, something that a lot of people around the world don't have. Something a certain terror group want to quash.

The longer certain people in the world carry on pressing the "Them and Us" point of view, the longer shit will carry on happening. I don't care if it's a man running for president, or a housewife in a small town - posting and sharing horrible shit is damaging.

So, I will not be on Facebook for a while. I've logged out of it across all devices so I can't see what's happening, don't get updates or notifications... But when I do decide to come back, I will be clearing out my friends list. I'm all for freedom of speech, but for some people to use that freedom to spread shitty crap and use horrible events for their own agenda...

It's just wrong. All I can do is hope that the world my kids end up with, is a world of more tolerant people.

Damn Friends!

Today, I would like to say a very Happy Anniversary to two of our friends, Kelly & Kevin. I would like to say to them to have a great day, and here's to many more great days, months and years to come.

However. I will NOT be wishing or saying any of these things, because it is thanks to these two that I am in the current predicament in which I find myself.

You see, seven years ago, Kevin and Kelly got married. At this point, I didn't know who they were. I'd never met them, never heard of them, didn't know they existed. Kellie, however, did. She knew them, she was good friends with them, and she was at their wedding day.

I was not. I was not present. I was at home, alone, pondering my friend Kellie, a girl I hadn't seen since she broke my heart as a teenager, and had only recently started talking to once again earlier that year. The weekend before, I had stayed with my friend Mand, along with Jennifer, Becky and Lynzi. We had a boozy weekend of laughs, gaming, piss taking and after a few drinks, a slightly inebriated Moi told the four slightly inebriated girlies that I was pining for my friend Kellie.

"Text her how you feel" they said. "It'll be fun" they said. I played it cool. Well, drunk-cool. I told my friend Kellie that I missed her and that she should be up at Mands with me.

Cooooool ;)

But anyway. The weekend of the wedding.

Kellie is at the wedding. She's with Kerry (Kevin-the-grooms-sister) who is the equivalent of that little red fellow that sits on her shoulder telling you "What's the harm in just on more drink" in the same way that Kellie is the equivalent of that little red fellow on her shoulder...

We've kept in touch throughout the day. And as the evening wore on, Kellie got drunker and drunker. And she started being more and more open and honest in her texts.

It was about midnight that she admitted she too liked me in THAT way. Because of the wedding, however, she was staying at the hotel til Sunday, had to recover and get over the inevitable hangover... So we agreed to meet up Monday at the pub (?!) to have a talk.

Monday 9th June 2008, we agreed we should start dating, see what happens.

So thanks to Kevin and Kelly, with side-help from Mand, Jennifer, Lynzi and Becky, I find myself where I am today. Two days away from our "Together Eight Years" anniversary. A week away from our "Married Two Years" anniversary. Oh yeah, and there's the whole "Tadpole Will Pop Out This Week" thing too.

Damn people interfering with other peoples lives! Look what you did!!

0ddness II - A New Beginning

For those of you living under a rock, or more specifically, that aren't on my Facebook (OR have me muted... I know who you are...) you will be aware that August has been, well, mentally manic at Chez 0ddness.

With it being Summer Holidays and all the kids being home, with Kellie working, it was decided that - what the hell - we'd sodding well move house too. Because why not?

We've been wanting to move for ages. Chez 0ddness is was beyond cramped. Granted, it was a three bedroom town house (ground floor, middle floor, top floor) BUT it was narrow. For a regular sized family, it was a little tight, but for the tribe...

Put it this way - our bedroom was in the dining room.

Finally, we found a house that we loved, and thus started the long process of acquiring said-house. It was lovely - big, open, spacious, big kitchen, big lounge, lovely garden, big living room... And finally, mid-August, we were given the green light.

And thus began one of the most stressful self-induced hellish fortnights of my life. I won't go into too much detail. It wasn't the move per sé, and it wasn't leaving Chez 0ddness exactly... It was the mess. The chaos. The disorganisation. The "Shit There Is So Much To Do But We Seem To Be Getting No Where" feeling...

My brain isn't wired for this sort of thing. I don't know what it is. I don't know if it's the loss of control, the upheaval, even the change... But I was a wreck. In agony and pushing through by day, sobbing in the dark by night.

People kept saying to me "It'll be worth it in the end" and "Think of how wonderful it'll be" and similar phrases. But they didn't help.

Being told those things, while literally surrounded by boxes, rubbish sacks, mess, dust and a list as long as my arm...

Quite how I didn't just run and hide I don't know.

Surprisingly, we were pretty much ready *cough*though not really*cough* in record time. The weekend of the 30th/31st August become Official 0ddness Moving Weekend, and all troops were mobilised. The kids were "helping", Kerry and James were slaving away, Mick from work helped, the 0dd Mother and the 0dd Mother-in-Law helped, Callum & Kathleen were beavering away with Dom & Molly...

Again, hell, chaos, nightmare, mess, disorganisation...

BUT by late Saturday evening, the new front door was closed, everyone had a bed, and all was quiet. We sat and ate takeaway on the living room floor. We could breathe.

We were in.

And thus begins a new chapter in our lives. Chez 0ddness is no more. Chez English is the in thing now. WE have a home. Kellie doesn't "live with me" any more. We live together.

Yes, we are still working our way through boxes. Yes, there is still plenty to do. Yes, I still want to run and hide and scream and cry. BUT there are no more deadlines. No more time limits. I cleared through a few boxes in the living room yesterday. Today, I might not do anything.

I want to thank everyone that helped out once more... Because without everyone helping, we'd never have managed it. Kerry & James were absolute troopers - Kerry had to drive the truck (I know, a woman driving a truck! AND there were ZERO deaths as a direct result of her driving!), and James was DIY Man (because I am still not allowed to use power tools). Callum & Kathleen (Kerry & James' two eldest) helped the kids sort their rooms. Our mums were amazing help - the 0dd Mother-in-Law was driving backwards and forwards, carting things around, buying food, and helping with the packing & clearing up, while the 0dd Mother sorted all the houseplants, made up big garden pots of flowers, and has been helping out with other bits as well. Mick from Work helped James with some of the DIY, and was brilliant at shifting and straightening heavy furniture. The kids were all great, helping out, carrying, lifting, clearing, tidying...

And for you that could see I was a mess, and keeping me sane via messaging, thank you... From convincing me not to kill anyone, for telling me murder is bad, and for keeping me as sane (yes yes, I know...) as humanly possible...

Thank you everyone.

I am aware that there is a distinct lack of pictures of the house so far... And I will remedy this as soon as possible. I was hoping to take pictures without boxes in frame, but suspect that might be a while away. So I WILL do pictures soon. Suffice to say, the house is like us. A bit strange, a bit 0dd, a bit weird, and the outside doesn't tell you anything about what's going on on the inside.

Welcome to Chez English.

Stalky Stalky

The last few days have been pretty crappy, and for the most part, I've been keeping to myself, sulking in my corner, virtually trying to wish the pain away.

Of course, it didn't work.

When I'm in my own little world, I come up with all these different blog post ideas. However, where I don't want to do anything except hack off the offending body parts, blog post ideas either disappear into that great grey expanse that is my forgetful mind, or, on reflection, I decide that if I post about this subject or if I go on about that issue then I am likely to just piss people off.

I kid yea not.

So instead, I opted to answer a question that has strangely popped up three times over the weekend. Usually in the form of "Blimey, how many messaging apps do you use?!" or something similar.

The trouble is, I like to chat to people, especially when tired, insomnic (not a word, but you get the idea), bored or just generally natter away. But yes, I still hate actually talking on the phone. And because I talk to different people, different people use different apps. Or one of the kids say "Oh this is good app to use!" or I get invited into a beta and kind of just stay with it...

In order to put the subject at rest, I figured I would just list them all out here for all to see. If you use one (or more!) of these apps, then feel free to add, invite, share - whatever. I have them installed on my mobile and my tablet, so usually reply pretty much where ever I am at the time.

Especially when I am bored.

So, here is the list - and because I am EXTRA nice and helpful (stop laughing) I've added a link for these apps for you to download - obviously, if you're on an Android device, use Google Play. If you're on an Eye-something, then App Store is for you. If you're not sure, then I've added the apps direct website. Because I am so extra nice and helpful.

Facebook Messenger
I have the Messenger app installed, and it would appear you don't even need to be on my friends list in order to message me, so that's nifty. You just need to know me through Facebook - which can be found by clicking This Link.
(Google Play / App Store / Webpage)

WhatsApp
I've used WhatsApp for aaaages - it's a proper nifty app for messaging, and I would argue that it's the best chatty-talky-messenger-type-app. Download, install, and it sees which of your contacts uses it and adds them - which means you will need my mobile number stored in your phone. Just ask and I will share it - alternatively, it's on my Facebook About Me page.
(Google Play / App Store / Webpage)

Hangouts
I have no idea why I have a Google+ page, I never think of it, and check in on it only very occasionally, but it's there ready for when Facebook goes all... MySpace-esque. OK, I know, wishful thinking.. I've never used Hangouts, but still, it's there, linked to my Google+, Mobile Number and Email Address; 0ddness.bl0g@gmail.com(Google Play / App Store / Webpage)

BBM
Another app I only use very rarely, but I DO have it and it's on... I only ever used it to speak to one person, but never got around to uninstalling it. Still, I have it - if you want to add me, my BBM Pin is 7B75E2FE
(Google Play / App Store / Webpage)

Skype/MSN
Now, I used to use MSN a LOT... My contacts list was silly sometimes, and I would have multiple windows open with multiple contacts. From what I gather, Microsoft bought Skype, and merged Messenger with it. So now I have Skype. I think. So, if you want to add me, my Skype name is oddness.blog and my MSN account dan.english@live.co.uk
(Google Play / App Store / Webpage)

SnapChat
Another one I use very rarely - mainly to see what my very small friend list shares when they are equally bored. I think there's a chat function on there now too, but regardless, I have it and load it when I remember to check! My username on there is essexdan101
(Google Play / App Store / Webpage)

Instagram
OK, technically NOT chat software, but it does have the chat function - plus I USE this one when bored and taking pictures. Feel free to add me on there, which is the username 0dd1 (zero-Dee-Dee-one)
(Google Play / App Store / Webpage)

Twitter
I use Twitter on and off, but mainly off as I don't know that many people that I chat to. I lose the plot, lose track and forget to reply. But again, it is a chat-type-app, even if you are limited to 140 characters, so on there my username is - like Instagram - 0dd1 (zero-Dee-Dee-one)
(Google Play / App Store / Webpage)

Now, I am fully aware that there are many other chat programs out there - Viber, Yahoo, WeChat and so on - but these ones listed are the ones I have installed, and use. If half a dozen of you turn around and say "We're on this app" then maybe I will give it a whirl.

So there you have it - a complete list of ways to get my attention and alleviate my boredom. Or yours. And remember - if I don't reply, I am probably asleep!

Time Out

Dear 0ddness, it has been many many weeks since I wrote on you properly, and for that I deeply apologise. I don't know if people still check in here to see if I have actually done anything, and I don't know if people still blog anymore... Surely Facebook hasn't killed blogging?

But I digress. And, I apologise. I apologise for being away and neglecting my pages, and I apologise because this is going to be a rant. My time away from 0ddness was partly self-imposed, and partly because.. Well.. People were complaining. Complaining about 0ddness, complaining about my Facebook, and complaining about my Twitter.

When I say complaining, it wasn't a "Dear Author, this content is..." comment or anything like that, but people were making snide shitty comments. "You're always moaning on your blog" or "Why do you always have to complain about your medical stuff" or even "That picture/link/song you wrote about sucked..."

After a while, all these comments got to me. I stopped using Twitter first - people hardly talked to me on there anyway, most of the content was just people retweeting someone elses content - which in turn was from someone else, or it was just boring. Some people you would mention or Tweet didn't even acknowledge you... Especially some attention-whoring celebrities. Why have a Twitter account and ignore everyone? And trying to have a conversation on there... I mean, 140 characters? I think anyone that gets a text from me knows I don't abbreviate, I don't take short cuts, and I don't do acronyms. So the 140 character thing got to me - especially trying to chat to someone.

Then it was the blog that took the next hit. Yes, I complained on here. Yes, my medical stuff was a common subject... But if people were complaining, I just couldn't be arsed to carry on. Not even a little bit.

Then came Facebook. People moaning I shared too many pictures. I updated my status too often. The stuff I shared was sexist or rude. I used bad words and people complained that their little ones saw it. So I only update my status once or twice a day at most. I share things that make me chuckle still, but I gloss over a lot of other things.

And then, this week, I had a shot of insight.

Who do you think you are to moan about my Twitter, or my Facebook, or worst of all, my Blog. It occurs to me that if you don't like the stuff on my pages, then YOU have to either block me, unfriend me, unfollow me or at worst - IGNORE me. I don't have a blog for your entertainment. I use 0ddness as my outlet. I use it to vent the stupid thoughts that I have running around my head. I use it to talk about how I feel physically, which parts of my body are screwing around and when. I use it to clear my head and try to avoid getting down and miserable - fighting depression is a hard battle, and 0ddness has always been my main therapist.

Sure, sometimes the stuff on here is mundane at best, but I do not make you read it. I do not tell you to read it or else. If you don't like it, I would much rather - instead of moaning at me (Ironically, about me moaning...) that you just went on your merry way.

As for my Facebook... If my status has a swearword in it, and you don't want 6 year old junior to see it... Er... Get 6 year old junior off of Facebook. It's a swear word - you might not use them, but I do. I always have done. Block me, or hide my updates if you don't want to see it. As for the pictures I post... It might be something funny, it might be a woman in a sexy dress, it might be something geeky, it might be something gross. There are plenty of tools on Facebook to hide me. And honestly, if you can't stand all the things I share, which show my sense of humour, or the mood I am, or what is on my mind - or anything else - that is part of me...

So why are you friends with me?

On both here and Facebook, if I find something interesting, or something that I think some of you will enjoy - even if it's only one other person that might like it - then I will hit share. If you don't like it, I am sorry, but I am not doing it for you. There are PLENTY of people on Facebook that share the same shit all the time, and then mutual friends share it over and over... There are so many things I don't like people posting, but you know what - I don't care. I scroll past, I don't bitch at them for sharing something I don't like... If everyone told everyone to not post things they don't like, Facebook would be a ghost town.

So, hopefully, from today, I will not be posting on here or Facebook or even Twitter to entertain you. I am here for myself. 0ddness has been around for MANY years, and has always been my outlet for ranting and venting and putting into words things that I struggle to vocalise. I am not a trained chimp here to please you, entertain you, or to only like things that are "normal".. I am who I am, and I like what I like.

If you can't accept that, then the problem is not with me. It's you.

On Being MIA

You may have noticed that things have been rather quiet on the Chez 0ddness front of late. And you may think life is boring and silent. However, if you've read my tired ramblings over the years, you will have come to realise that a quiet Online Dan usually means the opposite in Real World Dan.

And, more is the point, I don't even know where to start, what I can or can't talk about, or if I should warn you, dear reader, that if you don't like me moaning about everything, you may kindly bugger off now.

This last month has had hospital trips, sickness, illness, death, depression, and hard decisions, all rolled up onto five or six weeks of what feels like a constant uphill battle.

To start with, you may recall Kellie having many many medical shenanigans going on in the past. Well, despite the diet change and the medication change, the "it's just familiarial hyper-triglyceridema" is - for whatever reason - getting worse. Worse and worse.

I've said it before but will say it again - average reading is 2. High is 5, and above 5 is very high. Kellies first high reading was 22. She was started on statins which, frankly, messed her up completely. They came down to about 12, but the side effects of the statins were too much to bear, so the doctors changed her to fenofibrates.

Four weeks ago, her reading was 27. Increase in the dosage, stricter diet controls. Last week, her reading was 28.

I'm not going into it on here, but high triglycerides can cause and trigger all sorts of medical nasties, and the best the hospital can do is give her a "priority" appointment, then, which was six weeks away. Between Xmas and New Year.

Clean if the meds to fight this issue aren't doing a bloody thing, then it's not what they are saying it is. It's like me diagnosing your sore foot as a broken hand and putting a bandage on your wrist - it's going to achieve f$ck all.

So I sense the appointment that day is going to be somewhat heated, and making the doctor listen instead of talking over me.

Oh, and out of the blue, they've also decided she is now diabetic.

On my own front, and having one government department tell me they don't consider me to be ill, I've decided to stop seeing my "specialists" at the ME/CFS clinic. Now, before people spout something like "you need to give it a chance" I will point out - I've been seeing them for close to 18 months. If anything, I feel worse and shittier.

For one thing, I completely fail to see how Cognitive Therapy can fix a physical issue. I have a suspicion the NHS think this is all in the mind but won't admit it. In the course of my time there, we discussed self-assertion, dealing with OCD, coping with insomnia, and all sorts of other really reeeeally useful information.

Then there was the physio. In one breath I've got a patronising twat of a bloke telling me to do nothing, then telling me to push myself, then telling me if I over-exert myself, he's going to tell me off.

Er, what?

As I write this, it is just after midday. I've had a couple of averagely-busy days, and I'm struggling to find the energy and drive to get out of bed - not to mention, my legs are in agony, so I'm waiting for my pain killers to do something.

How can I push myself to do a certain amount of exercise when some days I can't bear to wear jeans because they're too heavy?

And the way he spoke to me... I know some members of the medical profession think they're better than everyone, but this bloke... Jesus, what an arrogant, patronising dick.

"If you don't do as I tell you, you might as well not bother coming back to the clinic"

You got it. Twat.

Plus on top of all this I've been feeling mentally shit of late too. So much crap on my mind, gnawing away at me. We go to bed between ten and eleven, and most nights if I'm asleep before two it's impressive. If I sit up till two then go to bed, I'm awake till gone six, so don't bother sleeping. Regards of sleeping till late or dozing off early, I'll wake up every time I need to roll over or get comfy. I'll have horrible shitty nightmares. Cramps will jolt me awake. I'll be too hot or too cold.

And on and on.

None of the meds I'm on seem to be doing anything once again, so it's back to the doctors I go to get a referral back to the Pain Management people, which strikes me as worrisome, as the last two times I was referred there, I had the first "specialist" tell me I was too young to be in so much pain all the time, and he discharged me there and then, and the second "specialist" spent the better part of an hour trying to convince me to go onto medication I knew I was allergic to, and because I disagreed with him, I was discharged as I was ignoring his professional medical advice.

Third time lucky I hope.

So with all that, plus friends going through hell with death and what-not, sick kids, me spending a few days in bed with germs - it went past Man Flu, and became full-on Flumonia - and Kellie being ill and everything else I'm NOT going into, this last month has been a write off.

In fact, I would go so far as to say November 2013 has been a BAD word. The baddest of the bad words. A complete and utter baddest of the bad words of a month.

December had better be decent.

Wedding Pictures

It occurs to me that, despite having been married for over four months now, my blogging radio-silence sort of missed and skipped through the time we received our wedding photos...

Now, I am not going to post them all, just a few from throughout the day - otherwise, you will burn through any web/data allowance you might have by viewing this one post...

The total so far stands at 5Gb. Not too shabby.

Almost all of these photos I am posting were taken by our truly-amazing photographer, Sarah, of Prideaux Photography. Honestly, she was brilliant, more of a guest than someone working through the day (and she didn't just work, she slaved bless her). I am sure we will use her again for family photographs, but if you're in the area and need someone, contact Sarah.

Prideaux Photography: Facebook Page or Twitter Feed

Anyway, these are in a sort of chronological order, mostly by Sarah, some by me, some by James. We have literally hundreds of pictures too, but I'm not going to post photos full of everyone else, because you can bet someone will moan ;)

Warpaint Application

Bride & Maid of Honour

Team Bride

Bridesmaids and Grandad

Jaysen working out shoe-wearing

Dom not understanding shoe-wearing

Half-Nekkid Coffee Drinking? Chilled.

Worlds SLOWEST Driver!

Team Groom!

Guests

Bridal Party in Full

Yeah, I was aaaaall good

Listening to the Registrar

Signing the Marriage Register

Rings

The Shoe Conspiracy revealed

Shoegate

Heading out for photos

Toby & Harry, NOT wanting to be in photos

One big happy family

First Dance

Dancing, Ignoring Everyone

Hotel bed, and we're exhausted

It's About Time

You are correct. The time-stamp on this post is indeed around 0430. Not only am I awake, but I am also showered and dressed. I've even done my hair. And I've been awake since just after 2am.

Which sums up this post, which was going to be a "So, how am I doing" kinda post.

From sleeping, to daily life, to getting on with life, to doing normal life stuff - everything is a bloody struggle.

My insomnia is still kicking me three ways to Sunday (and I don't sleep Sunday either) and I get more and more tired, until I crash out mid-afternoon on the sofa, get woken and put to bed in the early evening, and sleep right through till mid-morning the following day. The last couple of nights, Kellie has been having nightmares, fidgeting around, muttering in her sleep and generally NOT sleeping well - which has, in turn, made me sleep less-well.

I highly believe she is giving me a taste of my own medicine, but she claims not to be... But the jury is still out.

Pain-wise, my patches are kinda sorta working still. I say "Kinda Sorta" in that I am still in pain, but it is mostly manageable, providing I don't do very much at all. Which is to say, I still can't not do very much at all. Things need doing, stuff needs tidying, housework needs ploughing through, people need feeding... The "Don't Do Much" rule is so difficult to enforce, so I just sort of get on with it.

Which sucks.

Moods are still all over the place, some days I can be happy and cheery, sometimes completely paranoid, other days I just want to kill someone, and others I just want to sit in bed and sob - which I can't do, as I don't have the time to just sit. For the most part, I put on my happy face and go through life as normal... Unhealthy, maybe, but I can't just fall to bits in a corner.

Obviously at this point, it goes without saying that clearly my therapy is not working. I am also refraining from being completely honest about my physiotherapist and his plan for me, but needless to say, from second one of meeting him, he did not like me, spoke down to me, treated me like something he had stepped in - so all respect for him and everything he had to say went straight out the window. His Gradual Exercise Therapy plan can shove itself up his arse, frankly. I've tried it, it made me feel like complete shit, but if he's not willing to listen and just disregard me, then so be it.

Lucky for me, the few people that have stuck by me through the moods, the moaning, the miserable days - those that haven't just disappeared or decided we can't be friends for whatever reason - thank you. I know I am not the easiest person to get along with some days, and I know that my behaviour or actions might seem like I am just being a complete dick sometimes, but those that put up with it, listened and understand, they are the ones I want around me anyway.

Quite how Kellie puts up with it is beyond me, if I am honest. Quite often, she gets in from work, and because I'm having a shit day - either physically or mentally, or both - she ends up having to sort the kids out, cook dinner and look after me too, all after a long stressful day at work. She's my little star.

And it doesn't stop there... Because MY medical stuff isn't all she is dealing with... No no, she has her own fun mixed-bag of crap going on too, which has also been stressing me out...

You may recall her being ill in the past. First off, her chest/heart going wonky, causing some of the symptoms of a heart attack. Secondly, you will probably remember her Triglyceride milarky - the different kind of cholesterol in your body... Well, back then a "normal" reading was around 2.0, and hers shot up to 21-point-something. Oops, bad.

She was thrown onto all kinds of medication, some of which made her go all strange and odd and funny, so they changed it, and over the following months, her Triglyceride levels slowly came down.

Then - because she's a woman and knows best - she decided she was cured, and fixed and better, and stopped her medication.

A few weeks ago, her chest was going mental again, really screwing around.. So the GP sent her for more blood tests, and that very same day the surgery called, she had to get there NOW. After work, she trundled to the doctors, and low-and-behold, her triglycerides had shot up again, breaking the 21-point-something record, and now at 27-point-something-else.

Oops, MORE bad.

So, a rushed appointment to a lipid specialist was booked, and we sat down to see her and work a plan of action. So we're sat in the hospital, and the following conversation takes place:

Doc: We need to get this down now, because quite how you've not had a stroke or heart attack is beyond me.
Kellie: Ah.
Me: *glares at Kellie*
Doc: And you know, being diabetic makes this worse too.
Kellie: *blinks and looks at me*
Me: *blinks, looks at Kellie, is about to go off on a "Bloody hospital has the wrong notes" rant*
Kellie: *cutting me off* But I am not diabetic.
Doc: *flicks through the notes* Yes. Yes you are. Your blood tests show it.
Kellie: Ah.

Basically, we've gone into hospital with a list of problems, and she has left with additional problems.

And more medication.

She also got told off for taking herself off the medication. Long story short (too late) the meds she is are, she is on for LIFE.

I am also quite sure and of the opinion, that the fact such a high level of stuff in her blood can cause heart attack or stroke, I suspect this is the reason for her wonky heart stuff. The doc has put down the Triglycerides as a Familial problem - even though no one else in the family has it, as the doctor said, it has to start somewhere. So a genetic cock-up is to blame.

Which also means Dom & Molly need to be tested too.

 Yes folks, it is all fun and games in this household. Today and tomorrow, the six of us are getting our eyes tested too... Place your bets on how many additional people will require glasses by the end of the week.

Jaysen and the Hospital Trip

So, those of you that follow me elsewhere, would have seen my increasingly worse updates yesterday regarding Jaysen, his injury, and our trips to the hospitals. Plural.

I was sitting on the bus with Tamsyn, minding my own business on the school run when my phone rang, showing a number it didn't know nor recognise. I answer it, and it's Jaysen... "Hi dad, I've just fallen off my bike, and I have a hole in my hand."

I'm a little sympathetic, but all the kids are known for, shall we say, making the most minor injury sound like they've been disemboweled. I ask the standard questions, are you OK, is your bike OK, can you carry on to school...? No, he has a hole in his hand, is bleeding lots, and the man that he's with is going to run him up to the hospital.

Now, I can tell what you're all thinking, but my brain was NOT firing properly. I have the guys home phone number, he's been nice enough to help Jaysen out, and I was mid-transit with Tam. I figure, he can run Jaysen to A&E, I'll drop Tam off, shoot up to the hospital, worst case, he'll get a couple of stitches, I can drop him back to school, get home, job done.

I call Kellie to let her know what's going on, and she tells me off... I can't let Jaysen go with a stranger, I shouldn't trust people I don't know, etc etc. Oops. So I book a cab and my phone rings again - it's Kellie panicking... She tried calling Jaysen, his phone rang then went to voice mail, and when she tried again, it didn't even ring.

Basildon Hospital, however, is known for being a mobile phone dead spot. When we're there for blood tests or consultant appointments, we struggle to get a signal. Jaysen was in the bowels of A&E (or the boot of a crazy axe-murderers car!) where signal is non-existent.

My cab turns up, and I tell him to get me to A&E where my son has been dropped, and the driver is brilliant - gets me across Basildon in zero minutes. Yay for warp speed! He drops me right at A&E and I go in, ask for Jaysen, am directed to the kids casualty section, where I am re-directed to a treatment room. In I go to be greeted with a scene out of a budget horror movie.

Jaysen is sat on a chair, his hand in a doctors lap, a nurse standing beside them. Jaysen is covered in blood. The doctor is covered in blood. The nurse is covered in blood. There is bloody gauze, bandage, tape, and towels all over the bed. The floor is covered in blood.

Wow.

Jaysen, however, is fine. Not pale, not flinching, chatting away to the doctor and nurse, smiling to me, asking how I was... So obviously his little hole is just a bit of a bleeder. I can't see the hole, however, because at this point, he's been wrapped up. To protect from infection, apparently.

To make sure everything is OK, we're sent around to Xray, so I take the opportunity to call people, to let them know what's going on, and that no one needs worry as he's fine.

By the time I'm done, he's out of Xray and we go back to casualty, and are ushered into a room to wait for a doctor to assess and stitch him up. We sit and chat, and finally, it sort of emerges what happens...

While riding to school, Jaysen came to a corner, around which came another cyclist, travelling at some speed. In virtually a head-on crash, the two bikes hit, the other guy comes off his bike and he and his bike hit a fence. Jaysen, however, remains on his bike, and turns to make sure the other chap is OK. He says he's a bit hurt, and that his bike looks broken and holy crap you've got a hole in your hand dude!

Jaysen looks down to see a hole in his hand, dude. A hole that is rapidly leaking claret out all over the place. The other cyclist calls someone over to help, a woman, who panics and calls someone else over to help. The guy runs into his house, grabs a towel and gets Jaysen to put pressure on the wound. The cyclist goes his own way, the woman goes hers. Not sure what else to do, the bloke picks up Jaysens bike, and ushers him into his house, from where he calls me and lets me know what's going on.

Remember - I've yet to see his "hole" in his hand. I'm still thinking he's hit a bit of glass or a sharp rock and punctured himself.

So I turn to the nurse and ask her, "Is it really as bad as he's making out?" and she pauses, looks down at her messy apron, looks at me and says "It's probably worse than that actually!"

Hmm, interesting.

A doctor - a friendly chap from Jamaica - comes in, and starts questioning Jaysen as to how he did it, and starts unwrapping the bandage. Jaysen repeats his story, and the doctor says it looks like he has a break on a knuckle as well... And at this point, the hand is revealed to me...

PLEASE NOTE:
Clicking on these pictures will reveal the UNCENSORED version! Don't click if you're squeamish, and don't click if you're then going to tell me you're offended.

Jaysen really didn't do it justice. "A hole in the hand" is NOT what was revealed beneath the bandage. Look at the back of your right hand. From between your pinky and ring finger knuckles, go backward towards your wrist three to four inches. THAT'S the length of it. Go down into your hand about a half an inch, and there's the depth. Yes, it's gross.

The doctor showed me all the main blood vessels (which were visible!), poked at the tendons all showing their faces, checked for nerve damage (of which there was none) and started to wash it out. With a pair of tweezers, he pulled what appears to be a wiggly worm in the actual wound. If you look at the uncensored picture, it's clearly visible.

Giving the wiggly worm a gentle tug, Jaysens pinky finger started to bend. He then got the boy to straighten his pinky - and the wiggly worm pulled the tweezers downwards.

"THAT -" proclaimed the Jamaican doctor "- is a tendon. We're going to have to refer him..." I looked at the boy, and rolled my eyes, then the doc finished his sentence. "To Broomfield Hospital."

I know for a fact, that's in Chelmsford. Not really that far away, but bare in mind, we don't drive. Uh oh.

So, the doctor washed and repacked the hand, but not before I got some cool photos. Again, clicking on them WILL reveal the uncensored version.

My personal favourite - because it's gross

I call everyone, let them know what's going on. Kellie shows the photo around the guys at work, and they are all as impressed as I am with the damage he's done... Clearly it's a battle of the sexes - every woman that has seen it has felt sick, every bloke that has seen it has applauded.

While he's wrapping the hand up, the doc explains that had he managed to go a half-inch deeper still, he would have separated his little finger from his hand - but it would have remained connected at the wrist.

Ouch.

As a precautionary measure - and because of the scale of the injury, the doc started him on a very strong course of antibiotics...

So, Mr Doctor Man starts to examining the wound, checking out the bits and pieces that are literally bulging, oozing and hanging from the hole. In the pictures (assuming you're brave) you'll see what appears to be a wiggly worm... Well, the doc seemed concerned with it, and took it by the tweezers, giving it a little tug.

Jaysens pinky moved. Hmmm.

Getting Jaysen to wiggle his pinky, the tweezers gripping the worm pulled downwards. "That's a tendon." the doctor explained. I kinda figured that out myself. He checked for nerve damage and blood-flow, but they seemed fine.

"I'm going to have to send him to Broomfield Hospital - the plastic surgery team will need to rebuild him from the inside out..."

Great.

With a new box of antibiotics, a referral letter and Jaysens open wound redressed, I call everyone to let them know what's going on... When I call Kellie, she arranges for one of the guys at work to come and get us - and she rides along. I think she knows where today is heading, and aside from wanting to see Jaysen, I am Jaysens little rock, so Kellie gets to be mine. And she comes along too.

Chris and Kellie roll up ten minutes later, and we all pop home so we can change before heading up to Chelmsford.

Broomfield Hospital is beautiful. It more like a cross between a University and posh shopping centre... So pretty. We check where we need to be, and a helper takes us to Phoenix Ward, which I think is the kids Plastic Surgery ward. The staff are amazing - just like every other kids ward I've been on - and get Jaysen booked in and checked over, asking lots of questions about his health and questioning how he managed to splatter his hand.

The surgeon arrives within a few minutes of arriving, and has a look, a prod, a poke, and tells us he's pretty sure the wiggly worm is one of the two tendons attached to the pinky - and it's snapped, plus the other is damaged. So he will need surgery.

Out come consent forms and the discussion of what is going to be done, which I have to sign with very shaky hands. I'm being tough and strong, but not liking the situation at all. Jaysen is then given the option of Local or General Anaesthetic, which we discuss with him, and it's generally agreed that Local would be the best bet for health, recovering and himself.

I need to point out at this point that so far - every single step of the way - Jaysen has been a star. He's not complained, not whined, not moaned... The only thing he DIDN'T like was having a needle of local stuck into the wound before the Basildon doc could examine it. He's had no painkillers of any kind, despite being bent and fiddled with. I was, and still am, amazingly impressed with how he held himself all day.

We then have to sit and play the waiting game. We know Jaysen will be seen "that afternoon" but by now it's already gone 1pm. As he's only having a local, he's allowed to eat, which cheered him up no end, so we sit and chill out with some lunch. And then we wait. And wait.

And my phone dies!

And we wait some more.

Finally, at a quarter to four, the surgeon comes in, and tells us they are all set. Time to get gowned up, and despite demanding the nurses make him remove his boxers so his arse hangs out... No, now they allow children to have "dignity" or something. Pah.

Of course, when I'm around, your dignity goes out the window...

Next came the part I was dreading - walking my child down to surgery. I hate it. I hated doing it, I hated thinking about it, and I knew I would hate actually doing it.

So with Kellie holding my hand, we led Jaysen down to the surgical wing, where we had to leave him - then walk back to the ward and sit and wait.

Kellie made me a coffee, and I did my best to ignore the time. Now, I know that, logically, he was only having surgery on his hand. Logically, he wasn't hooked up to any machines. Logically, he was having some tendons repaired and a wound stitched up.

Logic, however, had done a runner, and didn't want anything to do with me that afternoon.

So we sat and waiting, running on "Hospital Time" which a lot of you fully understand. Up to this point, I was holding it together pretty well, but was definitely filling my pants with stress.

At 5.15pm, the nurse came up to get us. He was done and the surgeons were finished. Walking back to recovery, I couldn't breath, my chest was tight and I was ready to bolt. I had Kellie go in to see him, because I didn't know what I was going to see, and didn't think I could do it. It might sound wussy and weak, sue me, but my mind was racing in over drive.

Five minutes later, a cheery Jaysen is wheeled out, still in his very pretty robe, with an arm wrapped so securely, it resembled some form of boxing glove. From the tips of his fingers, down to his elbow, complete with a solid plastic splint, he was totally immobilised.

Which, you know, is sort of obvious as he has to allow his tendons to heal.

He looked so happy with his arm being strapped up - and that he was still in his dress - I had to get another picture of him...

Yes, you will notice that his thumb is totally free and able to move. This is him giving me a thumbs up. Despite the look on his face. And the very attractive socks.

The surgeon came back up a little while later, just to reassure us that everything went fine. They had to fully reattach one tendon, and repair another. To do the reattachment, they had to make the wound longer, as the other end had retracted up into the arm. Luckily, it was only an inch or so further up, so they didn't have to do too much more damage. Once that was repaired, they sewed their way up and out of the wound, closing it with very fine thread. I assume, considering the chap is a plastic surgeon, that the scarring will be minimal.

Jaysen has to remain in his bandaging for at least six weeks. We have a surgical check up next week to make sure everything is healing OK, at which point I am hoping to see the closed wound. You've seen what it looks like up above, but I've not seen it since fixed up.

I'm very interested.

Finally, we got in at 8.15pm, exactly twelve hours after I stepped out the front door to take Peanut to school. We were all hot, exhausted, Kellie and I were stressed out still, and Jaysen was a little bit worn out and aching (unsurprisingly) but had been a complete star all day.

All in all, it was a rough day. As usual, many people came out to see if they could do anything, to see if they could help, to send us and Jaysen their love. Facebook was full of good luck messages and similar, and again, a massive thank you to all our friends for their support and everything else.

Last night was a bad night for me, with things playing on my mind, and after a stressed-out stomach decided to evacuate it's contents at half four or so, I gave up, got up and had a shower.

Jaysen remains in good spirits, is cheerful and jokey, is only in a little pain - more dull aching than anything else - but we've been out and about together most of the day, wandering around town, seeing his mum, visiting his good Samaritan, popping around Asda, then home again...

Downside - his hand is so well wrapped - his RIGHT HAND of course - he cannot hold a mouse, cannot hold a console controller, cannot hold a pen, cannot get it wet... For at least six weeks.

I'm sure this space will have more, but for now, a massive thanks to the staff at Basildon Hospital Childrens Casualty Department, the staff at Broomfield Hospital Phoenix Ward, the A&B Taxis that ran us around, Big Chris for driving us from Basildon to Broomfield, Les for lending us his Fun Bus, and especially the man that helped Jaysen - that looked after him, wrapped his hand up, looked after Jaysens bike, and drove him to hospital regardless of his own plans at that point.

And to all of our true friends, a massive thank you for being there.

Med Change

As mentioned on Facebook yesterday, I have started on new meds... Allow me to back track "a little"

Many years ago - eight or nine - I was referred to the Pain Management clinic. Back then, I'd already been told my pain was psychological, in my mind, not as bad as I made it out to be, and part of having a degrading spine. The very helpful *cough*UselessTwat*cough* changed my meds from one containing codeine to another...

Containing codeine.

Very helpful, and the difference was the same as when you try and explain the difference between Off-White and Eggshell-White to a man. Especially a colourblind man. Ultra-especially a colourblind man that dridn't care about the different between Off-White and Eggshell-White...

And there I've stayed, with cocodamol as my base drug for "breakthrough pain" Over the years, my doc has experimented with the right drug for managing the pain over time. I've been on things like Amytriptyline (and I remember some very loopy blog posts while high on that car-crash of a drug) to Tramadol to Diclofenac and Pregabalin.

Nothing really does a lot, and after the minor mishap a few weeks back which, I've been told was called a "staggered overdose" I've had to lower my cocodamol intake. The downside of which is that my pain levels have gone from "barely managed" to "through the f$cking roof"

So last week, Mr GP decided a new radical approach was needed. And my cocodamol was stopped, and replaced with a patch... The drug in question is called Buprenorphine, and is very similar to morphine. It's used in cases of high to severe pain, and comes in three doses, 5mg, 10mg and 20mg.

Of course, with my body being a twat and usually churning out as many side effects as it can in  reaction to new drugs, the doc has started me on the lowest dose. The patch delivers 5ug (micrograms?) an hour over a period of seven days. I'm to use this patch for a week then, assuming there are no side effects I can't deal with, next week I get to apply two patches.

Now, it's supposed to work within 12-36 hours, and here were are, 38 hours in. And there is nothing positive going on.

At. All.

So I'm reducing the one painkiller that generally stops me writhing in pain and sobbing like a baby, so another medication can take over. Another painkiller that is not actually doing anything.

At. All.

This weekend has been shit. With a capital S. And H. And I. Yep, and T. I'm laying here at midnight Monday morning and just want to crack my head into a wall in an effort to pass out.

Tomorrow morning, I'm going to try seeing the doc. There is no way I'm going to make it through to NEXT weekend, especially on the off chance that the patch might do nothing at all.

Don't get me wrong, I'm hopeful it will work, and would be over the moon if it meant I can cut out an entire batch of pills, but I need it to work. I feel like complete and utter shit, and can barely function.

But you know, it's all in my mind, a psychological pain, I'm just addicted to the drugs, and am faking it just to get out of work.

I'm hoping that when I wake up in the morning, things will seem and feel better. I'm hoping that, in light of the fact it's been rather manic and full on the last three weeks, I'm hoping it's just taking a little longer to get into my system.

Fingers crossed please. And whatever else you can send for luck...

In other news, my Facebook cull appears to have been a rousing success. If you are no longer listed as a friend, it's because there was no interaction between us on there whatsoever. I'm not having people on there from now on that just add me to have me count towards a Friend Total that means bugger all. If you want to have me as a friend, a chat or poke every now and then would be nice!

I'm considering a Twitter, Email and Mobile Number cull as well... I'm tired of fighting and struggling to have conversations with people that seemingly don't give a crap.

Yes, I know, I'm in pain, I've hardly slept, and I'm proper grumpy. I think I'm at the point where the naysayers in my life are now going to find out who they are. Want to accuse me of faking, see ya later. Want to tell me I should "think positive and I'll feel better", adios!

Those of you that chat with me, laugh, joke and take the piss out of one another, you're safe ;-)

Watch this space... I'm sure I'll talk about my Buprenorphine patches (BuTrans) later. Positively or Negatively, however, remains to be seen.