What a week! I was beginning to think a higher power really had it in for me and then, bam, good news arrived.
Went in to work on Saturday and immediately sent an email around informing my colleagues what had happened and asking that they refrain from asking me about it for now until I can get my own head around it. They obliged sending only a few emails or texts to say how sorry they were. Work was a much needed distraction and the day passed without event and without me sobbing over everyone.
Is it strange that I still haven't really cried, I've had a few sobs but I haven't really cried, it all feels surreal to me. As though it is happening to someone else.
Sunday morning I got into my car as I normally do and headed off to work. I'd gone approximately two miles when I noticed a slight knocking sound. I have tray of sorts under the car that covers something important which sometimes loosens up causing a banging sound when I go over lumps and bumps so I assumed it was that and carried on. Another couple of miles and the front end began to jump about and the banging was horrendous. Luckily I was approaching a lay by so I pulled in and stopped, I got out and did a quick loop of the car, no flats. Thinking it was a steering arm or suspension I quickly phoned Peter, then work, then the RAC.
Fifteen minutes later a huge orange truck pulled in behind me, my rescuer had arrived. I explained the situation and he grimaced at my description of the knocking and dodgy steering. Instead of just loading me he decided to take a quick look under the car saying if a bolt had come loose it might just need tightening to solve the problem and he carried a few spares if the bolt had gone altogether. He started to jack the car up and then called out in astonishment, 'where are your wheel nuts?' All but one nut, the locking one, had been removed from the passenger side wheel. I was taken home and Peter, who thankfully keeps spares soon had my wheel firmly fixed with the RAC bloke's help. After some discussion the only conclusion was that someone had tried to steal my alloys. They could have killed me and all for the cost of a bit of metal. Couldn't they have puncture my tyre to warn me that my car wasn't safe? Of course not, these selfish people do not think of the effect they have on others.
Anyway my second attempt to go to work was more successfully and I arrived shaken, not stirred an hour and a half late but thankfully in one piece. I made a crime report and it wasn't long before the enormity of what might have happened hit me. It would have been one of my colleagues taking the call reporting the accident, it would have been one of my colleagues coming to sort things out, it could have been one of my colleagues going to see my husband to say I was hurt or worse. Then I got angry, how dare someone do that to me and my family. All I can say is I'd better never meet up with them. They are scum plain and simple.
Monday was my darkest day. I don't know if it was because of the near miss of Sunday or just that something eventually had to give, but boy did it give.
The day started normally and everything seemed to be jogging along nicely then my supervisor asked to have a word. I'd been expecting this, no one can depart the news I did and not have someone decide to check you out. I was all right at first telling her what had happened and that I was 'fine', I'm always 'fine' even when I'm not. Who wants an ill person moaning all day long, I wouldn't so don't inflict it on my colleagues. Then it happened, the flood gates open and I couldn't hold it back. Everything came gushing out. Ten minutes later I had control again, cleaned myself up in the loo and went back to work. Then I had my regular meeting with the doctor from Occupational Health and off I went again. Back in the office I was casually asked if everything went well and, well you can guess. I don't know what happened, it was just as if everything came bursting out and once it started it wouldn't stop. I was shattered by the time I got home and spent the evening half asleep in front of the TV.
Tuesday and I had an appointment with welfare thrust upon me. I'm guessing it was made because of my meltdown. Off I went armed with tissues expecting another tear filled hour but nothing, not a drop fell despite some of the deeply probing questions on how I'm coping. Maybe I just needed that one day of sorrow, maybe it will happen again, who knows, but for now the storm has passed.
And then, just as I'm coming to terms with things, I get an email from the Brompton. They have looked at the reasons for my rejection and have refered me to Papworth as an urgent case for heart/lung transplant. I'm not sure i like the sound of 'urgent'. Of course they may just have done that as they think I've been messed around for long enough. I'm not sure how to take this news. Part of me wants to leap around with joy as there is still hope, the rest of me is desperately trying to reign the joyous part back in and has already started gearing up for another huge disappointment. Do you ever feel like you are on a merry-go-round? Then you know exactly how I feel.
Then as if life just can't stop throwing things at me this morning I found a lump. Large and extremely tender, I was at my GP in minutes. He ushered me straight in and after lots of frowning smiled and announced I had an infected milk duct, quite common in 'women of my age'. A course of antibiotics has been prescribe and a referal to the breast clinic as a precaution. I should have known, I've had cysts and one major scare, before. How I am not a nervous wreck I don't know.
I'm off for a lie down in a darkened room, someone pass the Valium.
Went in to work on Saturday and immediately sent an email around informing my colleagues what had happened and asking that they refrain from asking me about it for now until I can get my own head around it. They obliged sending only a few emails or texts to say how sorry they were. Work was a much needed distraction and the day passed without event and without me sobbing over everyone.
Is it strange that I still haven't really cried, I've had a few sobs but I haven't really cried, it all feels surreal to me. As though it is happening to someone else.
Sunday morning I got into my car as I normally do and headed off to work. I'd gone approximately two miles when I noticed a slight knocking sound. I have tray of sorts under the car that covers something important which sometimes loosens up causing a banging sound when I go over lumps and bumps so I assumed it was that and carried on. Another couple of miles and the front end began to jump about and the banging was horrendous. Luckily I was approaching a lay by so I pulled in and stopped, I got out and did a quick loop of the car, no flats. Thinking it was a steering arm or suspension I quickly phoned Peter, then work, then the RAC.
Fifteen minutes later a huge orange truck pulled in behind me, my rescuer had arrived. I explained the situation and he grimaced at my description of the knocking and dodgy steering. Instead of just loading me he decided to take a quick look under the car saying if a bolt had come loose it might just need tightening to solve the problem and he carried a few spares if the bolt had gone altogether. He started to jack the car up and then called out in astonishment, 'where are your wheel nuts?' All but one nut, the locking one, had been removed from the passenger side wheel. I was taken home and Peter, who thankfully keeps spares soon had my wheel firmly fixed with the RAC bloke's help. After some discussion the only conclusion was that someone had tried to steal my alloys. They could have killed me and all for the cost of a bit of metal. Couldn't they have puncture my tyre to warn me that my car wasn't safe? Of course not, these selfish people do not think of the effect they have on others.
Anyway my second attempt to go to work was more successfully and I arrived shaken, not stirred an hour and a half late but thankfully in one piece. I made a crime report and it wasn't long before the enormity of what might have happened hit me. It would have been one of my colleagues taking the call reporting the accident, it would have been one of my colleagues coming to sort things out, it could have been one of my colleagues going to see my husband to say I was hurt or worse. Then I got angry, how dare someone do that to me and my family. All I can say is I'd better never meet up with them. They are scum plain and simple.
Monday was my darkest day. I don't know if it was because of the near miss of Sunday or just that something eventually had to give, but boy did it give.
The day started normally and everything seemed to be jogging along nicely then my supervisor asked to have a word. I'd been expecting this, no one can depart the news I did and not have someone decide to check you out. I was all right at first telling her what had happened and that I was 'fine', I'm always 'fine' even when I'm not. Who wants an ill person moaning all day long, I wouldn't so don't inflict it on my colleagues. Then it happened, the flood gates open and I couldn't hold it back. Everything came gushing out. Ten minutes later I had control again, cleaned myself up in the loo and went back to work. Then I had my regular meeting with the doctor from Occupational Health and off I went again. Back in the office I was casually asked if everything went well and, well you can guess. I don't know what happened, it was just as if everything came bursting out and once it started it wouldn't stop. I was shattered by the time I got home and spent the evening half asleep in front of the TV.
Tuesday and I had an appointment with welfare thrust upon me. I'm guessing it was made because of my meltdown. Off I went armed with tissues expecting another tear filled hour but nothing, not a drop fell despite some of the deeply probing questions on how I'm coping. Maybe I just needed that one day of sorrow, maybe it will happen again, who knows, but for now the storm has passed.
And then, just as I'm coming to terms with things, I get an email from the Brompton. They have looked at the reasons for my rejection and have refered me to Papworth as an urgent case for heart/lung transplant. I'm not sure i like the sound of 'urgent'. Of course they may just have done that as they think I've been messed around for long enough. I'm not sure how to take this news. Part of me wants to leap around with joy as there is still hope, the rest of me is desperately trying to reign the joyous part back in and has already started gearing up for another huge disappointment. Do you ever feel like you are on a merry-go-round? Then you know exactly how I feel.
Then as if life just can't stop throwing things at me this morning I found a lump. Large and extremely tender, I was at my GP in minutes. He ushered me straight in and after lots of frowning smiled and announced I had an infected milk duct, quite common in 'women of my age'. A course of antibiotics has been prescribe and a referal to the breast clinic as a precaution. I should have known, I've had cysts and one major scare, before. How I am not a nervous wreck I don't know.
I'm off for a lie down in a darkened room, someone pass the Valium.
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