8/04/13

I wondered why I was writing updates about my dad here. After all, most people who read here don’t know him and they don’t care. But I think it is because it is a record of it all. After Ron, I found myself forgetting when things happened and it was useful to go back and read. This is the same. (That blog and some others don’t exist any more; not because I deleted them but because they were on blogging platforms that no longer exist. I seemed to write different blogs for each stage of my life and as I have changed and grown, those different blogs reflect my change. One of them did get imported over here, which I hadn’t intended: it was a trial thing in blogger and I duplicated elsewhere for a while and eventually just used the other blog.)

 

This blog is at the stage of my life when I am most content even though it currently is dealing with bad stuff. I will write about the bad stuff always.

 

So, my dad has had another PET scan and they have discovered another reservoir of pus so more tubes, more drainage. Still not well, still not eating.

 

I feel miserable for him because I just have this nasty infection and it is nothing like his but I feel so grim. The infection is oozing out of my ear but the antibiotics aren’t working as the whole side of my face is now swelling up. I suppose that means more doctor tomorrow but I just didn’t feel well enough today. I got on top of the pain by taking ant-inflammatories as well as the prescription painkillers (alternated: the doctor told me to do so) but if I delayed a little on the 4 hourly dose, the pain became awful again. I’ve developed a constant, low grade fever, in spite of the medicine so it is obvious something bad is percolating in there.

 

I will go to the doctor tomorrow. Or I hope I will. Part of my reluctance, and hence my ability to talk myself out of it, is because I am scared they will send me to hospital and I have such a horror of those places.

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About quirkycharm

I like to think that I have a certain quirky charm but I am probably being optimistic. Acquired taste, perhaps, which many don't acquire. This is about my fifth blog out there. My hosting companies kept going out of business or my IT exhusband kept hacking into them and I would move again. I don't do twitter, I barely do facebook, I don't try and 'monetize' my blog. I love my husband, my grown children and my job and this particular incarnation of oversharing my life comes at a time when I am the most content that I have ever been. I write always, sporadically during the good stuff and exhaustingly during the bad.
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