Today the shelves are going to continue to taunt hubby. I think his friend is coming over to help him with them, although I'm not sure, and my mother is coming up for a visit - although I haven't mentioned that to him because he's in such an awful fettle with me that it's never been a good time to drop that bomb shell.
He is niggly, narky, bad tempered, saying horrid things and then "yoohoo" hubby's back and he's lovely and twinkly and smilie and saying nice things and I must admit to being a tad confused by what's coming when and in what manner.
I now have my mobile, which means that I can ring his nurse when I pop out for a bottle of milk, or something. I just think he's doing way too much. He's lost the "off" switch, which is what we had at the beginning. He's doing things right through the many, many hours he's awake, and if he's moving about then I should be moving about. I have not lost the "off" switch, and am going to bed completely knackered. That and the fact his alarm clock goes for an hour before needing to be up has me exhausted before I even get out of bed.
I tidied upstairs yesterday. I was in our bedroom, putting things away, tidying up, dusting etc, etc and I got a round of applause from him. What brought about this show of impressment? I'd made the bed. I'd done nothing else, but I'd made the bed. "You were asleep. I know you were asleep. You are lazy, so you must have been asleep" and so on and so forth.
He's having a lie in at the moment, which is why I can type, but dear Lord I just don't know what the day is going to bring. I'm expecting him to be lovely because there are people to put on a show for, but the fact that he's at home and is comfortable here might mean that he doesn't bother to put the show on. It might be a downward spiral from the moment he gets up, but you never know. It might not.
I have been absolutely lost without my phone. I've felt like I've had no contact with anyone, not through anyone's fault - it's my own. All of my contacts were on there. I'm adding to them as I get them, but I'm making a point of saving everything to sim because this has been rediculous. I also don't like answering the phone if I don't know who they are because if they have my mobile number then it's someone that I'm happy to talk to. Also, hubby has to know exactly who's ringing etc and I seem to be being bombarded with charity calls and PPI calls - on my mobile. I'm getting there though. I've got Twitter back on it, so I can tweetle away without getting wrong for being on the laptop. Mind, it doesn't matter what I'm doing, I'm never doing the right thing, I'm always a job or two behind myself.
So fingers crossed. Lets hope today is an ok day. Even if it's just until Emmerdale is on and I can distract him with that. x
Lord when will it end? My hubby has always been practically minded, and always been able to do things that other people have to get someone in to do. That said, he is still practically minded and he can still do things that other people have to get someone in to do, except now it takes days to do a half day job.
The bench was extended in the kitchen, the breakfast bar was added, the bar stools were purchased (on second trip to land of shops) and the kitchen looked lovely yesterday morning. Yesterday afternoon and he started the task of the shelves for the old boiler cupboard. We'd bought the shelves to make life easier, they have a metal frame and it would just be a case of build the frame in the cupboard and slot the shelves in. In theory that works, but in practicality it doesn't. They were slightly too wide for the cupboard, but he built the sides of the frame anyway with plans to cut the front and back to fit the size available. I tried to say this wouldn't work as you'd lose the rigidity but left it as only a suggestion. Last night everything was put away in the cupboard and the door was shut behind him because it was proving to be too much.
This morning his friend popped over, and it took an hour of saying things in different ways for hubby to come to the same conclusion. We are now going to build shelves for the cupboard with him stressing over measurements. He had an afternoon planned of going to get materials, then realised that he already had the bits and bobs that he needs up in the loft. Hubby never throws anything out so for all money is spent on a task, there's always a little stash left over and off up to the loft it goes. So he's been up to the loft to get the wood and edging that he needs for the task and he's determined that he's going to get them done this afternoon.
The only problem is, is that he's starting to dwindle. He's been mega busy all week with thinking, and he could really do with having a chill day. I've suggested that he leaves it for today before he starts so that he can have a whole day at it tomorrow. His friend asked him to go over to his house so they could go and take some photos with their cameras, and he agreed, he thought this was a fab idea, until his friend went home and hubby remembered the wood in the loft and now he's going to go for it and get them done today.
I understand where he's coming from. I get it. He hates me one minute but the next everything he's doing is for me. Constance hasn't got room in the kitchen, Constance needs shelves for space, Constance should have a nice this, that or the other, and this is his way of showing me he loves me - I think. Either that or it's just more work surfaces for me to clean ;o).
He wants the house to look nice, and for all it looked nice it now feels like a home - or it will when we're finished, but it's the constant thinking he's doing that is tiring him out and this is the bit that he's just not getting. He has lost his sense of being tired now and will be up at the crack of dawn and go to bed when the moon is high and work right through the day, but the sad thing is that for all he's working his socks off you aren't seeing it because of how long it takes him to do things now - and that is a shame. I thought about it earlier, and since about November last year, we've been doing something constantly since. It's the sawdust, the tripping over chairs, the knowledge that when one job is over the thought of what the next job will be has already been thought about, it's never ending.
I think, and I might be way off bat here (again...), but I think that this is his way of making sure that the house is done, the home is made, and there's nothing left for him to do when the day comes that he's not about and if it's done then he knows it's done, and he did it. This thought saddens me because it means he knows that there will be a day that he isn't able to do any of the things he can do now.
Yesterday was an interesting day. He decided he was going to extend a bench and put up a breakfast bar. Thankfully his friend said he'd come over and help or we'd have been using the breakfast bar to conceal my body.
Apart from a few niggles directed at me the day was relatively stress free - I think. I've got the cupboard back into the kitchen that was removed for the cooker, and the bench goes right to the door now rather than it stopping at the pillar thing. It now looks finished and like a new kitchen, without having to buy a new kitchen - phew.
The breakfast bar is excellent because it opens the room up and gives so much more space, and after having to go to the land of shops twice (because he decided he wanted bar stools mid afternoon after I'd just gotten back from getting the things he'd originally wanted), he's a happy bunny. The down side is that I now have ten chairs in the living room. It's a bit eerie having them all in here empty lol. I'm hoping that they get shifted to the garage that I don't want today. Then I'll have my living room back :o).
He is so happy about what they've done, and the interesting thing was when he rang his friend last night to make sure he'd gotten home, he spoke to his other half. He'd said that it had gone swimmingly, and that if he'd had to do it on his own he would still be doing it in a couple of days time. That he's noticed that jobs that used to take him half a day now take two or three.
We were both so knackered from the hard work yesterday (imagine a kitchen refurb and me making a roast Chicken dinner with Apple crumble...) that when we sat down at 9.30pm, neither of us had the energy to get up and go to bed. I relented at 10pm and he wasn't much later, but I slept like the dead until his alarm went off this morning, many, many times.
Today I'm going to empty kitchen cupboards and organise them better. He still has some shelves he's wanting to make for the old boiler cupboard that he says will start today, but I'm not holding him to it. The two other chairs are coming today and I have kick-boxing and cadets tonight. Tuesday's never end in this house.
He's still in bed at the moment, so I'm hoping that he'll get up in a good fettle, because the past few days of grief have had me exhausted.
Oh. Guess what his next project is? I know, I know. I thought it was over too, but apparently he wants to strip the downstairs hall way and paper it, then paint it and continue the painting up the stairs and along the hallway. It's like living in DIY SOS but it never, ever ends.
Apologies for my absence over the weekend, but I'd been kind of barred from using the laptop, since that's all I do all day...
It's been a mixed bag of a weekend, and it's probably better that I hadn't been able to write my ramblings down because they would have been scathing, but I've had chance to calm down and they'll be more balanced for it - I think...
The euphoria of the driving licence testy thing at the Consultant's on Thursday kind of wore off mid Friday afternoon. It dipped a little by evening but was tolerable, but by crikey it more than made up for it over the weekend. Saturday was ok. I was expecting Saturday to be a tad tense because I had to take Biggey to a Cadet thing that started at 3pm but we weren't going to be home until about midnight (we were parking cars at a concert, and because we were doing that we were given wristbands to go and see the concert, hence the lateness). Now he had been lovely. I'd made pizzas for lunch and tea for when I wasn't there, and he was lovely. He stood in the garden trimming a couple of bushes and nattering to our neighbours. Fine. I tidied up the mess I'd made in the kitchen making the pizzas and tea, made a packed lunch (tea really) for Biggey and I, made sure there was plenty milk and provisions and off we tootled. We got home before we turned into pumpkins and by gum he was cross with me. I hadn't done this, I hadn't done that, I was a useless wife - the usual, so I went to bed to get out of any further rollockings.
This worked until Sunday morning. He decided we were going to go and get things to extend the bench in the kitchen and off we tootled. Half way round Homebase it began in ernest. I was stupid, I was thick, I was fat, I was ugly, I was a useless wife and I was ready to stuff him behind one of the doors on display and walk home. The woman at the counter wasn't amused when hubby burst out laughing when she offered to add an Alzheimer's trolley coin to the bill. "It's for a good cause you know", followed by more laughing. I just closed my eyes and waited for the change. The ranting continued in the car but louder and I cried all the way home.
Middley and I made Fig and Toffee puddings and we had a lovely time the two of us, but once that was done he began again, when I say began it never really stopped, but he did pause for breath. He didn't love me. I was told "fu*k you", to which I, stupidly, said "no thanks". Well he was off (must learn to keep mouth shut, must learn to keep mouth shut). "Fu*k you? I wouldn't touch you with a barge pole. You're fat, you're ugly, you're not very sexually attractive and you smell" was the response to that. "I don't love you" just finished me off. I just cried. No noise, no sobs, just tears running down my face. He decided he'd had enough and I was getting thrown out, but when I asked him to go and get me the suitcase from the loft he wouldn't. He didn't care where I lived, and bin bags would be good enough, but then he asked me to make him a coffee and throwing me out seemed to be forgotten about.
After tea and the dishes and the tidying I sat down whilst he was on the phone. I looked over at him and he caught my eye. He winked and smiled at me and for a brief moment hubby was there. My handsome (and he is handsome), lovely husband and he gave me goosebumps. Twenty years of knowing him and he can still give me goosebumps, when he's hubby, and it was peaceful until this morning.
He hadn't set his alarm this morning so I didn't have the forty minutes of a wagon reversing through the bedroom and we all slept in. Mad panic and rushing about and hubby deciding to get up and hound us on and get involved in making an argument and calling me all the names under the sun and once the girls went to school I was told that I had to leave, but I wasn't allowed the girls. He'd keep them. That's twice he's done that this weekend. Twice he's told me I'm out, but both times there's been a reason that would make me stay (because believe it or not, after this weekend, if I'd had somewhere to go I would have skipped there).
I think this whole drama was caused by me not being here on Saturday night. He doesn't like it when I'm not about - it's something that I've often thought, but even the girls say it. "It's like daddy's lost when you're not here". I don't go out often. I don't leave him often. He wants me to get a job. He wants to throw me out of the house, yet when it boils down to it, he wants me here. Whether that's to shout at and tell me I'm not doing anything, or to help him with the tape measure measurements because they confuse him (although don't tell him I said that), but at the end of the day for all he hates me and doesn't love me that's my "other hubby" talking. Not the one I married, and that is what keeps me here, because for all "other hubby" is more present at the moment, my hubby puts in appearances, and when he's here it's lovely.
I was right. He got up this morning and had a shave and a shower and splashed on some deoderant and got spruced up and looked handsome and smart and came downstairs asking for some breakfast (he barely eats breakfast) because they were going to take six pints of blood from him, and he thought he'd better line his stomach so he'd be ready for the Consultant's appointment later in the morning. So I made him his breakfast. (It's not easy making fried eggs in my super dooper new pan that nobody's allowed to touch because the base is white. What colour do eggs go as they cook? That's right, so working out the level of "cookedness" is not the easiest of things to do when he is so hyperspecific on how his eggs are cooked.)
Off we trotted down to the dr's, with only one earbashing on the way. Whilst I was getting the details for the DVLA form he went in to get his bloods taken and he was out before the receptionist's ink was dry on the form. He'd forgotten the papers for his cigarettes so was going to come all the way back home when I suggested that I bought some new ones, because he was running low on them anyway and it would save coming home and we could go on from there. So that's what I did. He parked the car between the cones that said "police, do not park" and out I was turfed. Back in the car, he turned it round and off we went in the direction that we'd just come from.
We were early so we went to his favourite two shops. He bought himself a pair of Diesel jeans from the British Heart Foundation shop and we went to the Factory shop for a mooch about and came out with an ironing board cover (because my board leaves the pattern from the board through the cover and it's a mesh, so Biggey irons her cadet kit on a towel on the floor, and it's only a matter of time before the carpet is a casualty) and believe it or not a little coat thing for the dog. The dog is now not speaking to hubby because he does not like it. He dislikes it with a passion.
After spending very little (for a change) we tootled off to the appointment. Sat in the carpark I was run through the things I can't say and the things I have to say - no change there then. "I'm fine at driving, there's nothing wrong with my driving, you're happy to sit in the car whilst I drive" was the main one. "Telling me to say this hubby, suggests that you think otherwise and that you're putting me up to say it" said I. "No, I'm just telling you what you have to say" was his. Pfft. Anyhoo. In we go, coffee made, big comfy chairs were sat in - although he sat at the other end of the room, with us three opposite, so the Consultant got up and went to sit next to him, cut to look of shock on his face. There were big smiles, twinkley eyes, "everything is fine", "there's nothing wrong", "Constance doesn't think there's anything wrong" and blah, blah, effing blah. They asked him things, he answered. They asked him more, he answered. He said he wanted to get his "Cricikal" Record form done so that he could work with the elderly. "What?" "My criminal record thing done". Dear God. I know nothing about this. Apparently, he wants to have his disclosure done so that he can volunteer and sit in a minibus with the disabled and elderly and take them on days out, not as the driver but as the other person. WOW. Again, I had no idea about this. They were as stunned as I was. "That is admirable "hubby"" said she, "but you were only just mentioning that you would move to the middle of no-where because you didn't want to have any contact with people, does this not contradict this?" "Nah" says hubby. "I don't mind with old people - I've always liked them". Bless him (and I don't mean that in a patronising way either, he's always liked people that usually get a short shrift from society, so this doesn't suprise me, it's one of the things about him that I love). We discussed his confusion and forgetfulness and again, that's fine - there's nothing wrong with me. I'm sitting there with an incredulous look on my face. Where is all this guff coming from? More to the point they're lapping it up.
The occupational therapist was running late so we went away for half an hour, to Lidl's where we did a break neck speed shop, and returned, only for her to still not be there. We waited a bit and in she came. Hubby tootles off to have his tests, and I could hear him laughing and chatting away (charm offensive) and his nurse came through and asked if I wanted a word with her. I said yes.
We sat down in another office and she asked me how things were. My response? "At what level of his behaviour or memory loss or confusion will it take before anyone says there's a declilne?", she just looked at me. I continued... "He has walked today. He has smiled and said what he thinks you want to hear and there is no mention of medication being upped or changed, there's no issue with his driving even though some days I don't think he should be, his moods are declining, and he's more forgetful and he can't do things like he used to and I'm helping more and more, yet all seems well? I'm beginning to think that I'm either making it all up or I'm over egging the cake, because how he is in that room with you both is not how he is at home." "I don't think you're making it up Constance, I've had a word with the Consultant, she knows a bit more about how he's been at home and we're waiting on how he is with the occupational therapist". What happens next? The occupational therapists brings out hubby and says that there isn't that much of a difference between this test and last year's and that she only has a couple of scores to tot up but as far as she can see, there's not much difference. Hubby's face is full of glee, I can't believe it - although I can, because it's typical isn't it?
I was told to ring them in a fortnight to see what the results are, and if I have any issues... We have no appointment scheduled for next time, and just this once, I feel a little let down - and I don't think I've felt like that before. It might have been that everything was kept light for hubby, and that the occupational therapist was saying what he wanted to hear, but I doubt it, and what difference does it make anyway? We're (rather I'm) no further forward and it's back to just getting on with it. So that's what I'm going to do. I'm packing up the wallowing that I've done over the past week or so (apologies for this - must have bored you rigid with that one x) and I'm just going to deal with it as it comes at me. So if I slip back to the wallow stage, I would appreciate it if you just go "Hoy, Constance - get over yourself and get on with it" :o)
Where is he now? Oh. That's easy. He took the car, left me to put the shopping away, and off he went to cut his friend's grass. I don't know what time he'll be home, or if he's going to start on the shelves for the cupboard tonight or not, but you know what? The old Constance would have been bouncing her head off a wall, but not the new one. I'll see him when I see him, and I'll hand him the tape measure if he does decide to attempt the shelves. I'm going to be a glass half full kind of a gal now. Let's see if that makes it any easier. x
It is very confusing being me at the moment. I don't know whether I'm coming or going. I know that my brain feels redundant. I don't feel like I'm doing anything worthwhile. I just do the same thing day in, day out and I'm tired all the time and could sleep at the drop of a hat and just feel a bit bleurgh.
I'm selfish saying all of the above, I know that, but I just feel like something is missing. I miss work. I miss the company the most, but I miss using my brain. All I really do is cook and clean and clean and cook, and try to keep the waters calm with hubby, but nothing that stretches my brain or imagination. I love my blog, I get to get things off my chest and it is something that I do daily and it's never the same twice, but really, you can't call writing my blog ground shattering or something worthwhile for anyone else - it's simply my ramblings, whinging and rantings that I can't get out in the open in day to day life.
I'm a bit off kilter at the moment, and really I'm not sure why. I'm sure it's the fall out with my brother, and the unintentional upset with my dad that is the root of it, and I think that I'm stressing about tomorrow's Consultant's appointment - probably more than hubby, if I'm honest. The thought of going to another appointment and him "pulling it out of the bag" has my stomach in knots. It's not that I want him to be ill - I really don't. It's the fact that he's a different person in the house to how he is at the appointment, and that I look like I'm making things up or over egging the cake that bothers me. The things that we deal with in the house being brushed under the carpet because hubby decides that all is well and we have the run up (or we will tonight) of the things that I'm allowed to say and what I'm not allowed to mention. This appointment is for his driving licence as well as to see how he's doing, and at the last meeting the prospect of his drugs being upped were mentioned but due to the painkillers he had to have for his ribs, his legs and his tooth they decided to wait until the next meeting - tomorrow. The only thing is is that he's not going to want his meds upped because that would have to go onto the forms for the DVLA and he won't be happy about that.
I've also had a phone call today about him going back to his GP's for a full set of blood tests. He hates needles. It's a year since he last had them and they want to monitor him with another set, but he's not going to be happy about it. Something else for him to get narky about. The other thing he's going to be narky about is that for love nor money can I get through to the man I need to speak to about his NI contributions. I've tried for a week now, and I've made 11 calls to them so far today, but that will mean nothing. Now I know that at the other end they're not all that concerned about his NI contributions, because life expectancy of this illness means that he's not going to need them (not my words - theirs) but it's something else that's bothering him. He'll be here till he's 106, because he's bucked every other trait of this illness, so why him sticking to the life expectancy is going to be any different I do not know.
With him visiting his friend's here there and everywhere - and there's nothing I can do to stop this, this "driving whilst I still can" attitude is unrepentant, but it leaves me on my own with nothing but cooking or cleaning to do, and I just feel lonely and bored. I don't blame him, but the thing he's running from (the loneliness and boredom) is what's being left at my door as a result, and when he's home he's cantankerous and flips on a coin and you never know what you're going to get because he's spent so long concentrating on behaving that when he's at home he doesn't have to, but it just means I spend time looking forward to being with him only to resent it when I do. Just how awful does that make me? Bloody awful.
I apologise for not writing my ramblings last night. My head was just too frazzled and I couldn't bring myself to write because I didn't think I would be fair.
Hubby has now decided that I am definitely happy that he is ill because it means that I can sit at home all day (on my arse), do nothing and have the government pay me for the pleasure. What? Wow? Are you being serious?
He has decided that I need to work. That I am the millstone around his neck. That I am dragging him down and that he doesn't need me at all. Not only do I have to apply for jobs, but he's decided that he needs to vet the jobs I'm applying for so that he can tell me if they're suitable to apply for or not. This counting to ten and deep breathing m'larky is going to have me hyperventilating if I'm not careful.
Roll on Thursday when he sees the consultant, but you know what? He'll pass that dr's meeting with flying colours and there'll be nothing wrong and all is fine and dandy and what are you on about Constance, there's nothing the matter and all that guff.
We're back onto moving house again. I heard him speaking to my brother saying "this was never the house I was leaving feet first from". Now this is true. We bought this house to get us onto the housing ladder, and the intention was to work our way up, but that was before the Dementia diagnosis and now it just isn't practicle, or financially viable.
It sounds awful, and I know it does, but I can cope with the memory and confusion issues, what I really struggle with is the sheer bloody mindedness of this illness. The mood swings and the repetitive rantings that are aimed at me. It grinds you down and makes you feel worthless, especially as you can't argue back because there is no point in it. By not arguing back, I often think that I'm confiming his rants and thoughts about how useless I am, but to argue means that he starts the rant from the very beginning and just goes round on a loop.
I wonder if when the medication is upped does this mean that these rantings and irrational thoughts will disappear or does it mean that they will simply stay at the level they're at at the moment. I just don't know, and yes I love hubby, but sometimes you just want to go and sit in a darkened cupboard and sway back and forth until it stops. The sad thing is, that it never will.
Isn't it funny the things that just knock you off your feet? Today hubby has been a bit of this and a bit of that, but he was taking our next door neighbour to see my brother's girlfriend with the possibilty of buying her car. I'm keeping out of this, because I don't want anything coming back to bite me. My brother still isn't speaking to me so instead of coming here they went there. It's only fifteen minutes away.
Hubby came home about an hour and a bit later and that's fine. He said our neighbour had bought the car - fine. He also said my dad was there. Kicked in the stomach. My dad had taken my brother to where she lives, which is about an hour's drive from where he lives, to her place, which is only fifteen mins away from me and didn't pop in for a coffee. Complete and utter wind out of sails. Gutted. I can understand my brother not coming, he's not speaking afterall (well, I'm not speaking, but he hasn't twigged yet), but there's nothing stopping my dad leaving them together and coming over to see us. I didn't even know he was going.
I was going to ring my mum, but decided not to (due to the "you only whinge at mum and dad to get me into trouble" insult thrown at me) and then my mobile went. It was my mum. She asked how I was and I just told her. I know where I am now. I know what I'm thought of, and I cried. I don't often cry, but cry I did. I was really hurt by this. She'd said to my sister that she hoped that I wouldn't find out that dad was coming up today because I would be upset if I found out. My sister went "well "hubby's" going so of course she'll find out", and find out I did.
She knows how upset I am about this, especially since the onesided argument with my brother, and they all know how sh*t it can be here, but I appear to be a non thought now where dad is concerned and this had tears rolling down my cheek - and I'm embarassed to admit that.
Hubby had spent an hour on the laptop last night looking for jobs for me. I could do this, that and the other and stop being such a dead weight in the house. I could bring some money in. We're going to move. You can work as a Beauty Therapist (when I went to college to become a Beauty Therapist I don't know...) you can be an Optician's assistant (same college as beauty therapy then...), you can be an Accountant (I'll give him credit there, I did accountancy at college, but not on the systems that they use now). My favourite was "Oooh. You can work as a Care Assistant Constance." Speechless I was, speechless. Then I said "I do that already sweetheart, but at least I'd get paid and I'd have time off". An hour of this, of me being useless and needing to work and blah, blah, blah. I do work. I am his carer. The problem is that carer's don't get the credit or respect that someone who goes out to work gets, or the money for that manner, and he just sees me as lazy. Don't even get me started on that one.
He lost his temper with Middley tonight. Mind, she was working her ticket, but telling her to go and stand in the garden at 10.20pm because she's such a hot head and needed to cool down wasn't his finest moment. She looked at me, I looked at her and stepped in. "No. She's not doing that". "Yes, she is". "Hubby, she is not standing in the garden. She'll freeze". "It'll cool her down - out you go", and bless her, she went to go but "Middley, come here", and she did.
I just want someone to listen to the fact I think he's declining. I just want his meds upped or us given some so we don't notice the difference. It's starting to be like it was at the beginning, the constant nagging, the insults, the huffs and puffs, the insults, us being wrong, it's all starting to fall about again. I know we have an appointment with his Consultant on Thursday, but I don't think it's going to go as well as Hubby thinks, but then again he'll probably walk it because he's always pulled it out of the bag before.
Oh. Sat at the table in the kitchen drinking a cup of coffee hubby and I were talking about my dad. I just told him that I felt that I had no-one, that I can't speak to anyone because of what my brother had said. That my dad wasn't interested in me or the girls and that I will never, never discuss Hubby's illness with my brother ever, ever again. I just said "I'm on my own hubby" and he genuinely looked sad.
Well I wanted to ring the man last night but hubby said "no". We spent almost two hours with a tape measure in the kitchen, and umming and ahhhing, but no phone call was made. What was the phone call for? Hubby found a complete kitchen on Gumtree only 30 miles away for £100. It included all the cupboards, work surfaces, sink, dishwasher, gas hob and electric oven (don't even go there...). I wanted to ring last night, but oh no. I rang this morning and the man had someone going round to look at it. He would ring me when he knew if they were going to take it or not. Tick tock, tick tock and three and a half hours later he rang to say that they'd taken the cupboards and left the appliances. What was it we wanted? That would be the cupboards. Ahhh well. Bugger.
He then decided he'd go over to his brother to get some wood to make shelves for the cupboard that the old boiler used to sit in. Two hours later he returned with some lovely new benches. "Oooh" said I. "Instead of making shelves out of that, we could make it into the breakfast bar you wanted, the wood is so lovely". "What do I make the shelves out of then?" said he. "You could use the wood from the table, because we won't be using it when the breakfast bar is put in" says I. "Nah" was the response. So instead of using the lovely wood for something that will be visible, he's going to cut it up and put it in a cupboard where it won't be seen. More deep breathing.
"What's for tea tonight?" hubby asked. My response was chips. "But we've had them every night this week". "No we haven't. We had some last night, but the night before that it was rice, the night before that was pasta, the nights before that it was potatoes, and you wanted chicken pie and I have no potatoes, so it's either chips or I make something else." So we had chicken pie and they had chips. He couldn't remember what we've had for tea earlier in the week. That suprised me.
He's been back in the kitchen, after tea, with his tape measure (actually, it's my tape measure - he used his so much that it broke, so he's using my pink one instead) and then the saw came out, this is when I left the room, and half way through the X-Factor I heard electrical things being used, and I know it wasn't the blender. I made the decision not to go into the kitchen, because if I had I would probably have flipped and this would have set him off and the fall out wouldn't have been worth it. I would have gone in if CPR was needed, but it wasn't. I'm not even sure what wood he was cutting because I still have a table.
He tried explaining to the girls why Keith Lemon wears a bandage on his wrist. I was making a coffee at the time and had to run through to the living room to stop the explanation. "Why does he wear a bandage mummy?" was asked by Littley. "Because his wrist is sore" was my response, and it was left at that. Please don't let this be the start of having to vet his conversations or stop him mid way because of the inappropriateness. The girls are really good though because they look at me and I just have to say "that's rude" and they go "ahhhh" and turn back to what they were doing. It's as if they use ignoring as a way to stop daddy saying rude things. It works.
When hubby was first ill, he was on the go 24/7. He was tired but he didn't realise it. He couldn't switch off. It was constant, and I don't know how he managed because I was exhausted just watching him. We seem to be back to that. He is slogging away, barely sitting down, barely sleeping but on the go constantly. The sad thing is is that there really doesn't seem to be much to show for the amount of "busying" he's doing. I know he had a better night's sleep last night, and the reason for that is because I had a better night's sleep. When he doesn't I don't, but I don't know if all of these little niggles he's having is because he's starting to stress about his driving licence. I'll just have to wait and see, because I don't think he's going to like what's said on Thursday - to the point where he told me last night "that if ****** the nurse doesn't shut up and doesn't stop her doom and gloom and negativity, I am going to tell Dr. ******* that I don't want her in the appointments and that I won't see her again". He thinks it's the nurse that doesn't want him driving. He needs someone to blame if he doesn't get his licence renewed, and fortunately for me (but not her) it's the nurse that's getting the blame - at the moment.
Wowzers. Today we've had our ups and downs. Hubby woke up in a good mood and tootled down the stairs about 4.5hrs after I got up, so I was flagging as he was waking up. Our neighbour decided to come round to chat to him. I would like to say that I was not amused that he came round before I'd gotten my bra on, but the fright he got was his own fault. I must admit, when he'd gone and come back again and I had my head in the freezer then the fright was returned when he just walked in the door. I'm still recovering now lol.
We had a peaceful mid-morning onwards until about 2pm when he started getting a bit wound up about the dr's appointment. At 2.30pm we were sat in the GP's surgery waiting for our appointment that we didn't get in until 3pm. It didn't go as well as expected because the GP mentioned that hubby might have to go through the driving assessment again. Silence. This was not expected, on hubby's part anyway, so the fettle that came at home afterwards was not unexpected. We sat looking through the forms to fill in and "no he doesn't need any help on a day to day basis", so I'm not allowed to fill in "yes". He has no memory problems because of the medication he's on. He has no confusion issues because of the medication he's on. I would answer "yes" to both and add that the medication helps with the issues, but no. I'm not allowed to. So he's decided that he's going to wait and see what his Consultant says next week just incase she answers in a way he wants to hear. "What is it you actually do for me Constance?" was shrilled at me. "My driving licence is more important than you are Constance" was another one. I looked at him and just said "If I don't do anything for you hubby, why am I filling in the forms?". The response to that was utter silence. Without shouting and ranting and getting upset with him, I got my point across. The forms are back in the envelope for his Consultant to look at next week.
I managed to get Biggey away to Cadet camp, still with the cast on from the last camp, and she's away until Sunday. I came home to hubby on the phone. If it's his mobile phone he'll answer it, if it's the house phone he won't. I'm trying to make tea when the neighbour from earlier turned up and had a coffee. I'm not allowed to cook when he's here so I came into the living room. The two of them went off into neighbour's garage and I got on with tea.
Ooooh. Guess what I've been doing for the past couple of hours. I bet you can't. Wait for it... I have been holding a tape measure whilst husband has been measuring the kitchen for new cupboards and benches. Now I'm a feet and inches gal, and mixing between milimeters, meters and feet and inches has got my head in a spin. We don't need a new kitchen. Yes the one we have is tired, but so am I and I don't see him measuring me up for a replacement (hmmm... now there's an idea - think of the peace...), but there is nothing wrong with the actual kitchen. It could wait until we've saved up enough to get the one we (and by that I mean "I") like, but oh no. I can see it now. Months of measuring, counting, googling, measuring, more googling and finally deciding on the one he wants followed by an age of putting it in. After the bathroom (which has no bathroom, but I don't know what to call it now) I don't know if I could take much more. The heating system had me almost losing the plot and the afterwork that had to be done on the back of the heating system going in nearly finished me off. Please stop with the renovating, just for a bit, please.
I'm planning on going to bed early tonight. I'm shattered. He's tossing and turning and stealing the duvet and tossing and turning some more at the moment, but I wasn't allowed to mention his cramps at the GP's this afternoon - that might effect his driving licence. Give me strength.