Oops, I fell down this morning

I woke up just before my home help arrives, so figured I’d get up and have a smoke before she’d arrived. Got up, stood up and fell down. Hard.

I staggered, tried to grab something to get my balance, and didn’t. I hit the edge of my (very sturdy) art table, right across my right ear, and fell to my knees. I think that was the best thing, since I was already ‘up’ on my knees, I shuffled over to my bed step and sat down on it. A couple of minutes later, I used my bed as a pull up. It took 3 tries, but I was able to pull myself up on the bed, then get my feet under me, and hey presto, I’m up.

The home help arrived 10 minutes later, late.

I told her I fell down. She asked ‘are you awake?’ I’m like….yes? (I am sitting on my computer chair, speaking to her, so yeah, I’m awake.)

This is why I would really like someone who speaks English. If there’s an emergency, or something that really needs to be conveyed, I’d like to do it.

Anyway, 3 hours later, my neck and shoulder hurt. So does my ear lol, I took some painkillers and we’ll see how that goes. I know I should go to the hospital, it’s my neck that hurts after all. I could have screwed up my whole spine. but it’s fecking cold out there and I really don’t want to go. We’ll see.

Again. When will I learn?

When I lay down, the whole situation fans out in chronological order. It makes sense. It’s clear and concise. But when I get up and open this program, my brain skitters like a puppy on linoleum.

honest to god, I’m an idiot.

TL;DR. BIL has conned me again that husband is dying, when he’s not.

This post is mainly about my brother in law, and lightly touches on my partner, who is not dying and probably coming home next week some time.

He was the one telling me all of my partner’s organs were shutting down (see previous post). it was a couple of days later I called the nurses’ station. I hadn’t before because they’d taken me off next of kin previously. but they didn’t this time. The nurse said he was non verbal, but aware of his surroundings. for some stupid reason, I believed BIL.

anyway, when I asked the kids (bil’s kids) how my husband was doing, they repeated BIL stance.

but really, it was a lie. a deliberate, nasty toxic lie. Its only purpose to hurt me, because I didn’t leave the house, I didn’t visit him on his ‘death bed’. When Bil told me these lies, I didn’t go into snot nose, ugly crying, sack cloth and grief screams.

It’s just evil. mean, because I can’t fight back. he backstabs and sneers, and whispers like a snake into husband’s ear ‘she’s smoking!’ and husband treats this like it’s a new thing. husband believes nothing I say about bil, it is pointless even trying. and to top it off, I don’t backstab. I do not say nasty things about people. i would say the truth but that’s pointless as it’s not believed.

So husband called me last night and said he’s probably coming home after the weekend. totally screwed up bil line about dying any time now.

i have a hard time understanding how bil thinks. just the evil coming off him. and my husband looks up to him like he’s a saint.

well, one or two more days/weeks and they’re gone. 6 months later his effect will wear off enough for me to talk to husband without him just parroting whatever that evil, toxic little man did to his brain.

edit; I forgot to mention me, how I’m reacting. The last 3 weeks, my lungs are ‘normal’. I’ve been breathing like a normal person. no stress, no whease, no cough. it was flipping amazing. Even when talking to my ‘dying’ partner didn’t change my breathing. then, through comments partner made, I realized bil was lying to me, backstabbing me, just generally having a good time poisoning my partner against me. once I realized that, my lungs started seizing up. I am constantly doing chest relaxation breathing techniques. the knowledge of what that ass wipe is doing and harmed my health. I have also come to the realization I really, really dislike that man.

Abuse

I am in a bad medical condition. I can’t breathe. I have copd and right now, there is a strong flair up. My blood ox is bouncing between 89 and 95. This isn’t good.

I did manage to convince my partner to come home yesterday to help me. He has taken good care of me all day today. I’m quite surprised, honestly. He has offered tea, food, and care without asking and without my asking him for help. This is way out of his normal.

However, this evening, he want’s to leave the house for 4 hours. I begged him not to go. He doesn’t realize, just being here helps me. I don’t have to worry about answering the door or phone, or getting water or getting me medical attention. I need him here. But I guess he’s done his bit for the day.

But by leaving me alone, knowing I am in a medical emergency, I think of as abuse. Just because he did well all day, doesn’t mean the job is done. He doesn’t absolutely need to leave and anyone who knows what’s going on wouldn’t think less of him (probably more).

I just wish I could breathe.

Meltdown

I was in the hospital for about 10 days, had a small surgery, a massive infection, and home with an open wound. Of course, I have no help coping.

Once I got home, partner came down sick. He went by ambulance yesterday to A&E. He has not turned on his phone, so I can’t reach him.

Last time my partner was sick in hospital, his brother persuaded him to remove me from hospital contacts. If I call the hospital about him, they give no information. Not even if he is in hospital.

I know he went to the hospital. Other than that, I am in a news blackout. Even if I left the house and go there physically, 1) I can’t prove I’m his wife and 2) I am not on his approved list, so they can’t tell me anything, anyway.

A niece did message asking what was happening, none of his family could reach him. I explained my limitations. I am taking bets someone shows up to take care of things. I can only hope it’s 1 or 2 people, and not more – and very most specifically NOT BIL#1.

His taking me off his approved contact list was an unnecessary cruelty.

TMI – Welcome to the Civilized World.

4 days ago, I started falling over. Not dizzy, nothing seems to be wrong, I just crash to the left. Luckily, into walls.

3 days ago, I told my partner I was too sick to cook and was ordering delivery. He knows I was sick, cause I just told him so. I get what I thought was a lymph node swelling in the groin. Great, I think, two weeks of this shit before it gets better.

2 days ago, this rather large swelling doubled in size.

Yesterday it quadrupled in size. And that was just the bit I could feel (I couldn’t see it, it was literally at my undercarriage.) Then it swelled to the point it would be interfering with bodily functions within hours, at this rate of growth. I do admit I freaked out just a little bit.

Parnter then told me he doesn’t feel good and maybe should talk to the doctor. When I asked what was wrong, nothing really, but he’s having trouble with diarrhea. Remember, 2 days prior I had told him I didn’t feel well. And it’s always that way, he is the sick one, no one, no one, can be sick other than him.

Still yesterday, it was hard, painful, and if it had color I had no idea. It seemed to change shape, sometimes. Being thicker in one section, then moving to another. Then when sitting on the toilet, I notice that there was liquid movement IN my leg. Whatever this was, had expanded into my leg. It was hella lot bigger inside than outside.

Today, I tell partner what was going on. His response?

Silence. Then, oh, okay. Maybe you could come with me when I go see the doctor. (for diarrhea. He has no intestines, he always has diarrhea. He has medications for it.)

I’m thinking if this IS an infection, it’s probably infiltrated everything of both plumbing and a girly nature. And if this thing ruptures as localized infections are prone to do, I could end up with septicemia. And he wants me to wait the usual 10-12 working days to see a doctor. With him, cause he is number one priority and I’m the +1.

Well, it is an improvement. The last time, he comes up to me one year after my asking about heart attacks in women, and says; ‘I’m going to make tuna for lunchifyouthinkyouhadaheartattackyousouldtalktoadoctor, I’ll make them now. At the time of the discussion he said; a heart attack is a great way to die, boom it’s over.

The hospital service right now is so bad, it’s taking 12-16 hours for an ambulance to get to you (and ONLY if you’re dying, otherwise they tell you to crawl there) and a wait time of up to 30 hours in the waiting area. And with that information, you can probably guess what country I’m in, despite my attempts at keeping that private.

Even though I didn’t feel hot, I took my temperature. It was 100f/38c.

This thing hurts like hell, there is no comfortable position. It’s growing like The Blob, it could potentially rupture at any time, and there’s no way to get to medical attention. There’s just something in my monkey brain that is screaming at me, that a water balloon, filled with gross things, is floating around in my body, settling in my freaking leg. What, there’s no room at the intestines? The stomach, liver? The path of least resistance is my freaking leg?

Other odd things that may or may not be included, is when laying down, my throat closes off. Opening with a POP when I exhale. Headache. Runny nose. Productive coughing. Breathlessness. Trouble swallowing. Thirsty. Can’t walk straight. Leg getting difficult to use. I’m going to bet my white cell count is off the chart. That other bloodwork would show unusual markers. And the hospital is literally across the street. But if I do manage to get there, will I get help before the water balloon ruptures.

Welcome to the civilized world.

I’m so mad at myself

It would have been somewhere around june ’21. Partner comes shuffling up to me, says; I might have covid, and coughs right into my face. I could feel the fine mist like spray cover my whole face.

I might have mentioned this in a previous post, but I just remembered it and wanted to make sure it’s posted.

I asked why he coughed in my face. He said, I just coughed, that’s all.

And the reason I’m so damn mad at myself, I didn’t call the police. I’d be reading about people getting arrested for doing that. I even had proof – his spittal was all over my face. 😦

Today he comes up and says; I don’t like eating, right now. Everything tastes burnt. It’s not burn’t, it just tastes that way.

I told him I was really surprised he didn’t come home from the hospital with covid, the hospital must be ramped with it. I also told him I’d read an article how people who had covid reported all food smelt burnt to them. Taste wasn’t mentioned, but I think smell and taste are interconnected.

If he decides to have a good cough in my face, I’m calling the police. Paper trail, woman, paper trail!

I happened to read a previous post by me and I mention how he was breathing heavily on my neck. If he thought he had covid, that would be counted as assault. It is at least intimidation. And coughing in my face, after saying he had it, absolutely makes it assault and maybe a murder attempt.

If I count them, it raises his murder attempts to 11, from 8.

“It’s Just a Panic Attack”

I’m trying to remember when this occurred. I think it was as my partner was miraculously healed from his organ failure (see previous post), but not long after. At this point, I was aware of 4 of his family members being involved. One was about to leave but I didn’t know when. I thought he was still there.

I was getting pretty wound up. First, partner is dying, then he’s not. Keeping the house clean – BIL#1 was clueless, from how to sweep the floor to how to tear off a bag from the roll. He didn’t know how to call for an emergency. This became an issue.

I was having trouble breathing. Sweeping, pulling up heavy, full, bin bags, throwing out the detritus that collects if you don’t throw it away. Bending over is always a problem. I had to do it, over and over, and along with a dusty house, and the emotional stress, triggered a good sized asthma attack. I got panicky. I called my partner and asked for someone to come stay with me. Just in case it went south.

I thought two people were with him but it turned out, it was just BIL#1. BIL#1 arrives in the house about 10-15 minutes later. He didn’t know how to call emergency. I explained how it worked. He said okay and went to get a snack.

Now, I’d been sitting very still for at least 15-20 minutes. I was breathing ‘normally’. But if I’d tried to get up, it would have instantly been where it was when I called.

BIL#1 didn’t ask me if I needed or wanted anything. Water? Tea? Medication? Food? Nope to all. He did get his snack though. He comes back, says ‘It’s just a panic attack. I’m going back to your partner’, in a dismissive tone and leaves.

I was in shock. Pretty sure my mouth hung open. ‘Just a panic attack’ floored me. I know people who have panic attacks and it sure and hell isn’t something imaginary. It was insulting to the people who suffer from this, and hella insulting to me, as it’s something imaginary, just out for attention.

And second, he left me. He. Left. Me. Even now, weeks later, I’m shocked. If I had tried to get up, say to go to the toilet, I could have passed out, it was that bad. Just thinking of this day is tensing me up. Dismissive, ignorant and insulting, all in one easy sentence.

It took me 1 1/2 hours before I was able to get up and get a cup of tea.

I learned a lot about my BIL in that moment.

Well, this is new.

I’ve been sick since march 14th, 2020. Covid. Although at the time, they weren’t testing anyone who wasn’t a movie star, athlete, military, medical or political figure. I was a classic case even with their ever changing symptoms list. Ever since then, I have had fatigue spikes. Basiclly, I’m exhausted 3 weeks, then get a week that reminds myself what human feels like. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

I am reluctant to talk to my partner about this because he believes if you have/had covid, you’re dead. If you’re not dead, you don’t/didn’t have covid. We’ll get back to this.

Seven days ago, I couldn’t breath. Went to hospital where they said, yo, lookit that, your white blood cell count is high, wonder what that could be? Well, off you go home, be sure to come back if you know, like, die. No covid test was done and I honestly have no fucking clue why.

Three days later, my nose starts running. Now, by that I mean not the sniffles, but when you look down it’s like turning on a faucet. Running. Get (or continue?) fatigue, the usual symptoms for me, yadda yadda, ad nauseum. As I said, I’m reluctant to bring it up with partner. But I do.

_{Me: I got a runny nose …
Him: you don’t have covid.
Me: I don’t have covid.}

And that was pretty much it. I noticed a couple of days later, my emotions were riding a little high. Higher than normal for me. I was getting angry. Like, really angry. And sad. Really sad. Nightmares about skinwalkers and trying to kill them. My hearing was super alert. Falling asleep is hard, but once sleeping it’s good – but fatigue still grinding me down. I’ve been sick for what, 7 months. I’m exhausted. And angry. I’m not being listened to, even the doctors don’t fucking care.

Then something happened that I wasn’t expecting. I stopped feeling my emotions. I could tell they were still there. I ‘felt’ the angry. But I didn’t feel it at all. ‘Oh, there’s a spoon on the counter’ gave me the same emotional punch as the anger. It feels blank. Distant. Muted? I can still tell there’s an emotion, but it doesn’t affect me. And I know what triggered this.

A few hours ago, partner comes up to me and starts telling me how the pains in his back are concerning him, cause he doesn’t know what it is, and what if he’s having a heart attack and can’t tell?

I just looked at him, nodding, emoting, you know how it goes. And in my head, I’m saying: Well, when I came to you asking about possible heart attacks, you’re response was: it’s a good way to die. It’s perfectly in my personality to have said it out loud. But I didn’t. The anger needed to say it wasn’t there. Well, it was there, but it was…blanketed. It was just – not sure how to put it. Pointless. The anger is pointless. The sadness is pointless. Fear is pointless, I can’t control anything – not the covid, not the doctor, not a sociopath partner who’s trying to kill me. It’s all just pointless.

Covid or not covid

Sunday last, I was in the hospital all day. Couldn’t breathe, called emergency. Blood tests showed elevated white blood cell counts. Blood ox 95-97, no temp. Took an Xray. They didn’t give me a covid test.

Someone put up a big red notice on the door across the hall, saying it couldn’t be used until it was deep cleaned. A woman went in with a bowl of something, guessing water and bleach, and a sponge. Came out 5 minutes later, wiped down the door and left. A ‘deep clean’ it was not. If they didn’t deep clean that room, they didn’t deep clean the room I was in.

Of the four people who saw me while I was there, only one washed their hands when leaving. All wore masks.

So, 3 days later and my nose starts to run. Not the sniffles. Say, you tilt her head down and a tap is turned on. That was my nose. Checked temp; normal. Checked blood ox, 93-97.

Today’s conversation with partner.

me: I got a runny nose.

him: you don’t have covid. (note; with him, if you have covid, your dead. If you’re not dead, you dont have covid)

M: I dont have covid. (been here, done this, dont need the rodeo again)

H: do you have a fever?

M: No. Runny nose, sore throat, new cough, bad wheeze.

H: new cough? Not your normal cough?

M: no. New. Not triggered in the lungs, more like the throat. (After this convo, coughing now hurts my lungs like a mo-fo.)

H: want me to sleep here tonight? (kind of surprised at this.) (He’s 90% deaf, he couldn’t hear me unless I screamed)

M; I just took all my meds, lets see how it goes.

I’m feeling okay right now, but before I took my meds, I didn’t feel so hot. I keep hearing about groups for people who have long term after effects of covid, but I’m not in any of them. Never been tested, so it’s only going by what I know of the symptoms.

I’m fucking exhausted.

Nope, not dead.

Although you would be excused if you thought I was. I’m not sure how long it’s been since I posted but figure it’s somewhere between Forever and The Dawn of Time.

I hade covid19 in march, took 6 weeks to get over it and recover. Had a good month after that. Then I got a fatigue spike that lasted a week. Then two weeks to recover from that. Then I had another good week! Then it was lather, rinse, repeat for … 4 god damned months. I am currently in a ‘good week’. I’ve been thinking of this site so decided it was time to make a post, even if it’s brief.

It’s hard to recover when you have the energy of a wet noodle. Hard to cook for yourself. Asking my partner to cook is pretty pointless when he has about 5 things he can, or at least is willing to admit to, being able to cook. I can’t eat that many eggs or tuna sandwiches. I finally bought some super quick meals – like ramens, instant oats and polenta – and I’ve been able to cook a 3 minute meal. I’m hopeful having a full belly, and rest, will enable me to actually recover.

I’ve been painting a year now. Although not that much lately. But it’s honestly the only thing keeping my sanity. The bottom line, however, is I’m tired. And depressed. And sad.

Maybe I’ll get over it. Maybe I won’t. But I ain’t dead yet, so there’s that.