So reasonable adjustments didn't work. I was all for them, work were being arseholes about it - if I'm being entirely honest I wouldn't have expected anything else. But that is not for me to worry about now.
Now I have to worry about finances. But I should be OK.
And I have to work on getting me better. Rest should be aim no 1 this week.
And then next week I'm going to Naidex with TBO.
But most of all I'm going to be sleeping, and crossing fingers for a potential PhD, because I know how much getting one would mean for him.
Now is a huge period of change. But for once, I'm feeling really positive about everything ahead of me. I know I've got a fabulous support network and I am stronger mentally than I have been in a while.
Oh, and I'm stubborn. I don't think work have taken just how stubborn I am into account...heh!
Tuesday, 29 March 2011
Wednesday, 16 March 2011
Two for the price of one
OK, so I haven't blogged for ages and today I've got loads to say.
It's another one about me being scared. But this time I'm scared about my health.
I'm falling more often. I'm using two sticks at a time (I should rename the blog and/or the stick(s) - they're still all called Martha and one of them is definitely not called Martha) and still falling. I'm finding it increasingly difficult to stand up and sit down. I'm taking all my meds when I'm meant to and pain has still never fallen below a 3/10 (pain scale) and is still peaking at 9/10. I'm not sleeping properly. I can't concentrate. I'm getting spasms (I always had twitchy legs when I was tired - but I used to have to be supertired to have them) lots more. I'm much less tolerant of everything and am so snappy and irritable.
I'm not sure how much longer I can carry on like this.
I'm not sure how Boo and TBO would react if they actually knew how bad it is.
I want to cry in pain every time I get dressed. Socks are the bane of my life. And I'm a sockaholic.
By the time I walk to the loo from bed, I'm so knackered, I'm glad it's somewhere I have to sit down.
I can't lift heavy pots and pans any more. I'm scared I'm going to fall over whenever I cook and end up injuring myself or one of the kittehs.
When I lie down in bed at night, there's no relief. Different joints scream at me, depending on which way I'm laying.
I'm scared that if I carry on, I'm going to hurt myself more. I'm scared that if I stop, I'm not going to be able to start again.
So what do I do?
It's another one about me being scared. But this time I'm scared about my health.
I'm falling more often. I'm using two sticks at a time (I should rename the blog and/or the stick(s) - they're still all called Martha and one of them is definitely not called Martha) and still falling. I'm finding it increasingly difficult to stand up and sit down. I'm taking all my meds when I'm meant to and pain has still never fallen below a 3/10 (pain scale) and is still peaking at 9/10. I'm not sleeping properly. I can't concentrate. I'm getting spasms (I always had twitchy legs when I was tired - but I used to have to be supertired to have them) lots more. I'm much less tolerant of everything and am so snappy and irritable.
I'm not sure how much longer I can carry on like this.
I'm not sure how Boo and TBO would react if they actually knew how bad it is.
I want to cry in pain every time I get dressed. Socks are the bane of my life. And I'm a sockaholic.
By the time I walk to the loo from bed, I'm so knackered, I'm glad it's somewhere I have to sit down.
I can't lift heavy pots and pans any more. I'm scared I'm going to fall over whenever I cook and end up injuring myself or one of the kittehs.
When I lie down in bed at night, there's no relief. Different joints scream at me, depending on which way I'm laying.
I'm scared that if I carry on, I'm going to hurt myself more. I'm scared that if I stop, I'm not going to be able to start again.
So what do I do?
Update and stuff
Yes, I know I haven't blogged for ages. February was PANTS. Bigger pants than normal.
Gran died at the start of the month.
I had a birthday. Which was mostly fab, thanks to beautiful flowers and jewellery from TBO. But it still put me into my mid-30s.
TBO hid in his cave without telling me and I thought he was dead. Or I was dumped. I was wrong on both points.
Work was ...well, work.
And I kept falling over.
March has been marginally better.
Gran was buried (yes, it was 4 weeks, 1 day later). The funeral was absolutely lovely; and the wake too. It was nice to see so many people there that I haven't seen for ages. And so many lovely bright colours - gran never wanted anyone in black.
TBO has still not worked out what he's doing next year. But he's been lovely over gran and everything.
Work-wise. Well, what do I say. I'm still there. Hanging on by the skin of my teeth, but I'm still there.
Occ Health recommended me think that I stop working. Work absolutely did not want that because, despite me being so fucked and therefore hardly doing anything (by my standards) I am still more productive than most people there. Plus, I'm working on a project that I REALLY like.
But I can't do a lot of my job any more. Pretty much all I can do is sit and type, or use my brain for the project. I told work this at the start of the year. Their response?
With pacing (which they explained wrongly) and task rotation (which they didn't understand) I should be able to do my entire job.
I just couldn't believe it. I've been telling them for ages that I'm having issues. They haven't been hearing.
Until I emailed the Facilities Manager about falling in the office (and whether all of them should go in the accident book or just ones where I injure myself). That seemed to put a rocket up their arses.
And now I have a fit note for "sitting down jobs only".
And that is what has happened since I last posted.
Gran died at the start of the month.
I had a birthday. Which was mostly fab, thanks to beautiful flowers and jewellery from TBO. But it still put me into my mid-30s.
TBO hid in his cave without telling me and I thought he was dead. Or I was dumped. I was wrong on both points.
Work was ...well, work.
And I kept falling over.
March has been marginally better.
Gran was buried (yes, it was 4 weeks, 1 day later). The funeral was absolutely lovely; and the wake too. It was nice to see so many people there that I haven't seen for ages. And so many lovely bright colours - gran never wanted anyone in black.
TBO has still not worked out what he's doing next year. But he's been lovely over gran and everything.
Work-wise. Well, what do I say. I'm still there. Hanging on by the skin of my teeth, but I'm still there.
Occ Health recommended me think that I stop working. Work absolutely did not want that because, despite me being so fucked and therefore hardly doing anything (by my standards) I am still more productive than most people there. Plus, I'm working on a project that I REALLY like.
But I can't do a lot of my job any more. Pretty much all I can do is sit and type, or use my brain for the project. I told work this at the start of the year. Their response?
With pacing (which they explained wrongly) and task rotation (which they didn't understand) I should be able to do my entire job.
I just couldn't believe it. I've been telling them for ages that I'm having issues. They haven't been hearing.
Until I emailed the Facilities Manager about falling in the office (and whether all of them should go in the accident book or just ones where I injure myself). That seemed to put a rocket up their arses.
And now I have a fit note for "sitting down jobs only".
And that is what has happened since I last posted.
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