Stumbled across an email about mum's stroke...saving it here as back-up

Explanatory notes:

• Email written to my younger daughter - I had only just told her about my mum's stroke and the conversation had been (from my end) at a bus stop in Central Reading...far from ideal and I was worried I had missed essential details. I did much the same over following weeks - especially when my aunt would ask if my mum was out of hospital yet...and I was worried I hadn't made it clear how serious the situation was. My aunt thinking she'd only be in hospital a week or two was a cause for concern - was I explaining it that badly?!
• Pogsy is a nickname for my dad. We have no idea why.
• Erni is a nickname for my elder daughter Erin after a preschool misspelling.
• I have taken out a bunch of names as I have mentioned immediate family before but not necessarily others.
• All changes are in [---] and I am not doing any corrections. I want to keep this true to the event.

I'm going to take things back a bit...

Grandma was in town for her dental appt. She spent Thursday & Saturday with my dad. The original idea was for me to go visit her after work Monday but as Erin was home (she's sprained her wrist by the way) we invited Grandma over for Sunday dinner. She arrived about 1130 and stayed six hours. She was fine, alert...although she did look 'tottery' as she walked out to her car but I put it down to being stiff and tired after a long afternoon sat on my sofa, and probably it was.

MONDAY

I worked a half day Monday and came home with a borderline migraine. Crawled into bed at 1530. Erni cooked dinner and I was just going for a shower at 8pm when the phone rang at 8pm. Erin answered it and a moment later, perfectly calmly she said "Mum, emergency". I took the phone. It was [mum's partner - hereafter 'N']. He said that mum had called about 3pm saying she was tired and going to rest. As the evening wore on and he didn't hear back from her he got concerned. I think he said he'd been trying for an hour and when she finally answered he couldn't understand her. Erin ran to dad's while I got dressed. Apparently Pogsy rang her, said curtly "I'm coming over" and minutes later we're in the car hightailing it over to her flat. Grandad driving while alarmed is also alarming. Pogsy wanted to go in first with me poised to call 101 (which as it turns out is the Police non-emergency number; he meant 111).

So Pogsy dashed in, Grandma was on the floor, sitting up but slumped against her armchair. Dad asked straight off if she wanted medical assistance and she replied clearly "Yes" a minute later I realised I was calling the wrong number and basically thought fukkit this is a 999 job. They kept asking questions geared at heart attacks and I realised that what I was describing didn't even sound like any kind of emergency so I said, quite truthfully, "I think she may have had a stroke". Felt awful for saying it where she could hear me but what can you do???

She was conscious or semi-conscious. She could answer some questions like the medical help one clearly enough but other words were slurred, mumbled, incomprehensible or just no response. Erin went outside to usher in the ambulance crew.

They came in and Pogsy stayed with her while she was being assessed and put into one of those chair carriers to get her out. Erin and I went into her bedroom. We couldn't find a bag or holdall so we nabbed her granny trolley (remarkably handy actually) and started packing it, she'd need fresh clothes and wash stuff for discharge if nothing else. I also called N with an update; he told me to ring whenever I knew anything. Pogsy was trying to find mum's meds etc.

I was going with mum in the ambulance, dad and Erin were coming to the hospital later...I forget why but dad wanted to come back to Woodley for some reason that seemed important at the time. Mum was asked if N or I would be her next of kin - eventually it was decided she was indicating me. It seemed to take forever to get to A&E. Mum was clearly in a bad way - groaning over ever bump and being sick. We arrived at A&E & mum was taken straight to a side room because of diarrhoea and sickness. It was bad cos she was begging for water but nil by mouth. She still hadn't been seen / cleaned up when Pogsy & Erni arrived but then she was cleaned & changed into a gown while the three of us went to the waiting area. Thankfully they let her have water then too.

After they left a doctor saw her and she was asked what happened and she was explaining away...making no sense at all. However later she was saying perfectly clearly she'd be there for hours and I should go home. It was just as confusing for me tbh.

We went through the night in much the same fashion - her practically speaking in tongues and complaining about the bright lights or other patients' bleeping monitors. She was moved to another side room in another part of A&E called Majors (as opposed to minors I presume). There was definitely some assumption that the diarrhoea and vomiting were the problem and that the state of mum was her normal condition which was difficult. Her blood pressure was really high as was her blood glucose. Another thing was she had retained urine. The scanned her bladder twice, twice on a bed pan and about half an hour on a commode before they finally catheterised her. We could have done without them 'joking' about burst bladders but I have to say I was almost as relieved as she was! There was talk of a urinary tract infection which would explain that and even the mental confusion and when mum asked "why am I like this?" that's what I told her. Dad was concerned it was related to her ongoing back pain (no idea how it could've been) and I had concerns she'd fallen and hurt herself, maybe her hip, and couldn't explain where. Broken bones can cause embolisms also resulting in mental confusion. Lots of theories, zero answers. They did however also have her on a saline drip, had given her an IV shot of antibiotics AND hooked her up to an insulin pump to get her diabetes back in check. At least once I brought up stroke and was told no, it's not that.

At 2am, probably when she was being catheterised, I nipped out to call N and Erin. But being a complete fuckup of a life my sim card had come loose and it was all I could do to get my contacts up on my phone let alone connect to a service. I called E from the reception desk and asked her to call N.

At about 0430 she was moved to the Acute Medical Unit (AMU) and again put in a side room. I moved her stuff in, established that she was staying put for the time being and left. By that point she was fast asleep. In fact, I think she slept through the entire transfer.

The buses had started running but I walked home from the hospital. It had been quite a traumatic night and I needed the air and time to do some processing.

TUESDAY

I got in and went to bed 0630...and then Pogsy rang at 0830 and that was that! Never been so grateful for a migraine nap in my life.

Don't remember an awful lot of Tuesday to be honest. Dad and I discussed a lot of the ifs buts and maybes of the situation and I started cleaning house (which was already not bad for us) with the idea that whatever happened mum recuperating at mine was the likeliest outcome. At some point Erni picked up Hennessy [our black cat] and saw blood on his hind left paw.

Erin came to the hospital with me in the afternoon. Mum was sleeping when we got there which was fair enough but when the consultant came in they could barely rouse her and things got properly worrying. The consultant was still thinking infection, I raised a number of concerns inc. stroke but again was told no. Mum could squeeze, albeit weakly, with both hands and wiggle both feet. I was told she'd be sent for a CT scan that evening.

Erni and I left, did a bit of shopping and went home again. At about 2030 I got a call from the hospital during which I got a dripfeed of info: them "what do you think happened?" me "Stroke?" them "I think you're right" then confirming that's what the CT scan showed then that it was severe. Then she asked about resuscitating her if she has a crisis: I said no. We've all talked about this for years but the doctor admitted that in my mother's situation she thought it wasn't in her interests. God knows how I held it together.

I went round to dad's just before 9pm and watched it hit him like a freight train. He swears blind I said it was a 'massive stroke' but I definitely said severe. I think he was hearing what he feared.

I was scheduled to run the shop Wednesday and it was really late to pull out so I decided to work it and then to go down to N's Thursday to tell him face-to-face.

Went home and fell apart for a bit.

WEDNESDAY

Couldn't concentrate worth a damn, stressed af and running on not nearly enough sleep.

Erni & Pogsy visited mum...during which time she didn't wake up AT ALL. Plans were changed. I called N and, hiding the situation from him suggested he come to visit for a few days so he could visit with mum properly. I needed to tell him the truth, face-to-face before letting [her brother] and [sister] know. Absolutely shitting it about making all these really hard phone calls.

I was definitely worried about telling you. I spoke to my area manager cos I had to let someone know that I might have to just drop everything at zero notice. It was her idea to contact your uni for advice.

I crashed at 9pm and got up just after Erin came in from work at midnight. I spent the night doing washing up and watching the Supernatural musical episode 😉 Back to bed at 0430.

THURSDAY 

Erni had made a vet appt for Hennessy at 9am - I couldn't be worrying about a sick cat too. We were only taking him out on the lead and he'd spent most of the last 24 hrs sleeping in his carrier. He didn't look right at all. Toe is very definitely injured. Painkillers & antibiotics for now, take him back next week if he's still bad or earlier if he gets worse. On the plus side he's walking without a limp.

N arrived at midday. by arrangement Erni popped out the back and to Pogsy's because I didn't think N needed an audience. I felt so bad for not telling him straight out but he understood why I didn't want him to hear by phone or to drive while distressed. After that Pogsy & Erni came round for lunch. The mock meat I'd bought for sandwiches wasn't vegan but fukkit for once. After that I started on the phone calls including to your uni where they advised me to tell you as I did for all I was worried about it.

I called [cousin T] to break the news to [mum's sister] and she gave me [cousin J's] number and I called him to tell [her brother]...and you know what happened??? T PHONED [mum's sister] and [mum's sister] phoned [her sister in law]! So much for me trying to get everyone told gently and in person! I was especially worried as Saturday is the anniversary of [my cousin] Allister's death.

I saw that you had a presentation so I held off until evening and that would have to be after N and I visited the hospital. Thank goodness really because I was so much happier for seeing her relatively alert. It's also a huge weight off my mind to know that most everyone knows. Actually managed to sleep fairly well last night!

N is staying here and Erni is camping at Pogsy's as you might need to if you decide to visit. We're all just doing whatever we can to help each other. Thank goodness my dad and N get on okay! They're fetching mum's car back here today so it can be kept an eye on. Dad worries about silly stuff like that; I worry about people.

So I think that's about it. Not gonna lie, this is still a deeply worrying situation. Will keep you updated.

It occurs that my grandad must've had his big stroke around the time my mum turned 40; he was in hospital that Christmas. He would have been 75 at the time. My mum's 73 and a half.

So Slow

Not to blow my own trumpet but I have a few smarts. My IQ has been certified at a respectable 137 and I'm a graduate. But I'll be the first to admit I've never been quick on the uptake.

Tonight my mum was watching 'The Adventure of the Egyptian Tomb' on TV. I own it on DVD and heaven knows how many times I've seen it since it was made back in 1993...but it was only last year that I finally got what Hastings was on about when he was telling Poirot about Miss Lemon's late cat "the one she called Catherine-the-great because it liked to sleep in the fireplace". Yes, I am very ashamed of myself and embarrassed to admit it. In my defence I'm not exactly super familiar with fireplace grates.

Anyway, this blog is another thing that happened tonight.

I'd gone out for a bit of air, walking down to the closest Pokestop and Pokegym and I was listening to Ashestoangels (hereafter A2A) on my phone.

My cousin Allister died of Primary Brain Lymphoma in April 2016 and there are THREE A2A songs that get me in the feels about that - Ugly Club which made me do the ugly cry at a gig just days after I heard the diagnosis, then two tracks that I got stuck in a loop of playing in the week or so before he died: Bound And Broken, and Ghost In The Machine.

So Ghost In The Machine comes on which particularly makes me think of Allister's partner Michaela. I had huge empathy for her anyway but after the funeral I was lurking to offer the usual stock phrases of sympathy as is only right and proper when my daughter and I overheard her tell another mourner that her father had died of the exact same thing at just one year difference in age.

This reminded me that earlier today I saw Michaela post on Facebook - November 7th was Allister's birthday (at the time of typing it's past midnight).

I also get to thinking about how my mum phoned me to tell me the news.

When I first moved to Taunton in 1997 I got my first ever phone. I started at the neon UFO shaped thing plugged into the wall and realised that some day soon I would take the first of some damn difficult phone calls. As it happened the first was in October 2000, in a different house on a different number and on a different handset. That was when my grandad died. I didn't get a call about my grandma because I had phoned home at an inopportune moment. There must've been calls about more distant relatives, my auntie Kitty for whom my youngest is named, but they were older and expected. it makes a bit of a difference.

The first really difficult phone call wasn't until Oct 2014. My mum didn't sound herself on the phone, I barely recognised her voice. I was just thinking "this reminds me of when my grandad died" when she started crying and I realised...
Me: "OMG, who?"
Mum: "It's Sean"
Me: *LITERALLY DUMBFOUNDED*
Mum: "Your cousin?"
Yeah mum, I know who you meant but...he was 49. He died doing what he loved which was riding his motorbike. My only memory of his wedding back in 1987 was him and his bride sitting on his bike for photos outside the church.

In comparison we knew Allister was going, it was just a matter of waiting for the news. Around the beginning of April we (meaning my mum, my dad and I) stopped phoning each other. We didn't discuss it. We just didn't. Incidentally I tweeted a prediction on April 1st of the 21st. I've blogged about this before and I know it's super vague - the follow on about the odds changing re: the 25th is A2A related - being my next date to see them live. April 21st 2015 was when I saw A2A right after hearing Allister's diagnosis; April 25th 2016 was my next gig date to see them.

As the 21st got closer I started checking Facebook obsessively for any hint from Michaela. By the 21st I was an absolute wreck. At around 7pm I'd been sitting at my PC and had just got up to go to the loo. The phone rang, I misstepped, trod on a plastic tray and broke it. I swore comprehensively at the phone. I was fighting back tears when I picked up the receiver.

So tonight I was thinking about taking that call, the call about Sean, Kitty, my grandad...and I realised that not only am I never getting another call from my mum (as she is a stroke survivor living with me) but that I am now pretty the adult for my branch of the family who other people will call with the bad news (my dad doesn't have a whole lot of family and it's not exactly clear if anyone'd bother contacting him anyways).

For some reason this hit me pretty hard.

Worse still was the realisation that THIS SITUATION HAS ALREADY HAPPENED.

My mother's brother in law, my Uncle Dave, died on October 11th following a long illness from myelodysplastic syndrome (a rare blood cancer). Although, as it's now 2019 I actually received the message via Facebook rather than an actual call. I had to tell my mum, rather than the other way about.

Unusually for me I just went through it without clocking the reversal in roles. 

Tonight it hit me. Not only that it is me that is moving up the pecking-order of adulting around here but the shock that I'd just dealt with it when it came up without really clocking it. 

When Sean and Allister died I wanted death to hit my parents' generation next as might be considered the natural order of things. I'm the youngest of my generation but it's too close for comfort. Dave, on the other hand, was 80. And now we're in that phase, of losing that generation, I feel old. 

I am perfectly aware of my age, my 'kids' are in their 20s so I probably have a better awareness of where I stand than a lot of people in my age bracket. Indeed, another cousin has a kid who is just 5.5 years younger than me...and her kids are a preschooler and a newborn! By the time I'm a grandma, or certainly by the time my future grandkids are old enough to remember, it's unlikely there'll be any of the old-guard left standing. Time marches on and all that but it's the realisation that goes with it.

I didn't have any greatgrandparents alive when I was a kid - I doubt anyone of their generation was still around. My mum's parents had her late, she had me fairly late...I guess somewhere along the line I just assumed that by being a teen mum it'd go some way to redressing the balance. Tonight it struck me that it's really unlikely. My kids probably won't have kids for another decade...and in all honesty I think my generation, already depleted, will be the oldest by then.

Deaths of 2019

Gwendoline J, nee Beckett (94/95)

Last surviving aunt of my father - no biographical details.

Left the UK decades ago.

Serena Cheong (34)

Missed by her parents Solomon & Cecelia, sister Sharon, brother Michael, sister in law Kelly

and the Blockhead Sisterhood worldwide.

Michael Barter (82/83)*

No close kin.

* not only do I not know his date of birth but no one knows when he died. Whatever's on his certificate is a guestimate.

Dave Rowlands (80)

Missed by his widow Margaret; daughters Terrie, Dawn Paula and Shirley;

grandchildren David, Hannah. Luke, Matthew, Geraldine, Sabrina,

Hopey, Isaac, Jacob, Shirley, Elijah;

great-grandchildren Evelyn, Henry, Rafe, Max, Lazarus, Ezra, Delilah and Selena

Day 28

I can't cope.

My mum has been in hospital for four weeks now and it seems to be all about complications and apathy. Without going into too much detail she has a medical condition but is on a rehab ward with no doctor; we got a duty doctor called but he arrived at 3am, my mum was asleep so he didn't bother to see her OR organise any follow-up. She's in a lot of pain and distress; they've done NO follow-up testing to see if the treatments are even working and they give her paracetamol only occasionally. On top of that she's at serious risk of dehydration because she just can't / won't drink enough. I'm looking at having to quit work now so I can look after her while she's still in hospital because it's that bad!

The cat's paw thankfully seems to have healed, the plumbing crisis has been fixed (thank you, dad!) but naturally now *I* am having a health scare too.

The bit that finished me off though was my daughter's uni finances application which I hate on principal and always get super stressed out over but this time ended up with the entire family screaming and me getting the blame for everything. My father started banging on "there's no point having a panic attack" ...well thanks for that astute observation you absolute FUCKTARD! Not like it's a matter of choice and you're not bloody helping. Complete bloody moron.

I just want everything to STOP.

Day Nineteen

My mum is starting to make some baby steps toward progress. We guessed at the outset that this was going to be a long hard journey...I don't especially like being right but I feel it's better to plan for the hard stuff than setting yourself up for disappointment expecting it to be easy. I'd rather fear a difficult recuperation and be right (or pleasantly surprised if it's 'not that bad') than anticipate a speedy recovery and be disheartened.

So...she's starting to spend a bit more time awake and alert; she's doing better enunciating and projecting her voice - more than half the trouble understanding her is how quietly she's been talking, especially difficult in a noisy ward with lots of distractions.

Tonight though we had a little bit of a hiccup. Toward the end of our visit my mum asked if her parents were alright...

As I said in an earlier post my grandad, her dad, was left severely incapacitated from a stroke. He died, aged 91, in 2000 from related causes. Her mum died, aged 95, just a matter of weeks later - also, as it turns out, from a stroke.

My mum cared for them from the outset right to the very end so the fact she'd lost track of those memories came as quite a shock. Not only that, but they died a long time ago - back when my kids were really small so the fact she recognises them as being adults (and me as a middle-aged woman) seems a tad incongruous.

At the same time I'm seeing it as progress - she's thinking more about life outside of her hospital bed, of people and things that are important to her...even if she's getting a bit muddled on the details.

She took the 'news' pretty well. Thankfully it didn't seem like she was going to grieve them over again. However, she is starting to get a tad depressed as the realisation of how ill she's been starts to dawn on her. For two and a half weeks she's been in a weird kind of bubble of existing in a hospital bed and just accepting that's how things are but now she's remembering a life outside of that and feeling frustrated she isn't better yet...there's a lot of hard stuff still to come, I think.

Understanding and Forgiveness

This blog is directly linked to my last: '22 - 40 - 70-something'

I have always been the sort of mum to talk to my kids; to explain things that are going on in an age appropriate way and not to hide stuff from them. One thing that particularly bugs me is parents who, when expecting a new baby, avoid having The Talk with their kids when it's the perfect opportunity to do so. My daughter Erin was 4 when her great granddad died and like everything else I explained to her why everyone was sad but that he had been very ill for a long time. Just as at age 2 I explained how she was going to become a big sister and at 5 and a half I explained 9/11 to her as best I could.

I did not have a happy childhood. One of the worst parts was being at a certain primary school, between the ages of 6.5 and 9.5, where I had a rough time being bullied by my teacher. I felt that by age 9 my parents, my mother especially, had lost all interest in me. In trying to explain what was happening at school I was told to "fight your own battles" which a kid of that age clearly can't do and I felt utterly abandoned. In year 5 I finally got out of that school but the damage was done; beyond criticising my grades and perceived lack of effort at school they didn't seem to care anymore, then, when my behaviour deteriorated in consequence, that was just another thing to have a go at me for.

Despite now being 40 I have had a realisation about all this just in these last couple of weeks - and more than ever I advocate HONESTY and talking to even very young children.

When I was 6 years old my parents moved house (to a fixer-upper, they would spend YEARS putting it right) and I was enrolled at that school where I had such a hard time. Also when I was 6 my granddad had a severe and debilitating stroke; he died when I was 22. Although I associate my difficulties with a few years later I now see the connection.

Sadly I only came to this realisation now my own situation mirrors it somewhat. I moved into this house (with a fair few teething troubles) nearly 9 months ago, I have been struggling with stress in my 'new' job...and now my mum has had severe and debilitating strokes. On the plus side my children are now 19 & 22 and far better equipped to understand and deal with my being extremely worried and distracted.

Now I realise what a tough time my parents were going through, my mother especially. Obviously I knew my granddad was ill and in hospital, later that he was home and disabled but, as I saw it, he was old and that happens. I don't think I especially lacked empathy for my mother but I certainly didn't understand just how stressful it was for her - because she didn't tell me - maybe it sounds ridiculous but even as a full-grown adult with full-grown adult children of my own I could not have imagined just 3 weeks ago how traumatic this would be. I knew my mum was worried when her dad was in hospital and later I knew she had a rough time caring for her parents so that they could stay in their own home, but only now do I get an inkling of what that entailed.

I wish my parents had talked to me more, back then especially but at all other times as well; I wish that I had had a better chance to understand. Maybe I'd still have been a needy little shit but I could have tried to add less to their burdens.

As the only child of a stay-at-home mum I expected more attention - I literally got picked on because other kids were jealous I had that, but it sucked being so alone all the time. Kids NEED parenting support, I can't judge myself too harshly for wanting something I needed so badly.

I do feel bad that I've been a teenager, an adult, a mum since then and I still didn't get it but it's the domino effect. Because of how I grew up feeling neglected I've seen the world in a certain light, and at no point over the years have we talked about what happened with my granddad and how it affected our family. I wish I had come to understand this without my mother having to go through all this - sadly it may be true that you can't understand until you have walked in someone else's shoes... Maybe it would have been different if I had ever related my childhood experience with my granddad's stroke.

Over the last 2 weeks I have had an awakening - I understand so much more what was going on in my childhood and how that has affected my relationship with my parents right up to the present day. I even understand better why they reacted so badly to my teenage pregnancies. They were going through so much but I just thought, because of the suffering I was going through, that they hated me. Finally, I feel like I can forgive.

22 - 40 - 70-something

When my mum turned 40 I was 6. Her dad was 75...and that's when he had a severe and debilitating stroke. He lived another 16 years, dying in 2000 when I was 22.

I have a 22 year old daughter. I turned 40 a month ago. I feel like I have aged 40 years in the last week: my 73-and-a-half year old mum just had a stroke.

On Sunday my mum came over for a roast dinner. We talked for hours. I keep thinking of odd things that came up - like her spotting my old baby blanket (which was also my daughters' when they came along) in my cat's wicker carrying basket, or her interest in modern washable sanitary pads

Just over 24 hours and a migraine later I was just about to step into the shower when I heard the phone ring. My 22 year old daughter, Erin, answered and a moment later said, perfectly calmly, "Mum, emergency". In fact, it was so calm that's what got my attention. It still seems weird that it all began so low-key.

My stepdad had been trying to get hold of my mum - she spends most of her time with him but still has a flat here; she values her freedom and independence - she finally answered and he couldn't understand her. He rang me and raised the alarm. Erin and I don't drive but my dad lives next door...minutes later we were tearing across town, split between fearing the worst, and imagining how pissed my mum would be for us pestering her!

I've hardly known which way was up since then. This week has been all about difficult phone calls and decisions and whole lot of adulting...I just want to do colouring in my blanket fort!

My mum is stable and has finally been moved onto a specialist stroke unit but I don't feel like the stress will let up any time soon.

I am so grateful I had my kids young. I couldn't imagine going through this with a 6 year old to look after. Think about that if you're ever inclined to judge teen parents!

I'm glad I had such a good mid-life crisis.


Update:
I described that first week as the longest seventeen months of my life. When we got past the seventeen month mark we agreed that for a randomly selected time period it was pretty spot-on. 
Mum's stroke was described as 'severe' and she had multiple points of damage in both hemispheres.

A copy of my letter...

Dear Laurence,

Obviously you've been going through some very dark and monochrome times lately but hang tight (or, in reference to my matinee show 'outfit', hang tough) and trust that light and colour will come back into your life, even if not all-at-once, Wizard Of Oz style.

I don't know if the copy of one of my all time favourite films - Marilyn Hotchkiss' Ballroom Dancing And Charm School - which I dropped off at CotD ever made it to you. Or, if it did, whether you ever found time to watch it. So, trying not to give too much away because I really do recommend it...Frank Keane, a struggling widower, ends up attending dance classes where the teacher tells him:-

"Dance is a very powerful drug Mr Keane. If embraced judiciously it can exorcise demons, access deep-seated emotions and color your life in joyous shades of brilliant magenta that you never knew existed."

Of course, you can colour your life in joyous shades of brilliant magenta (or stunning chartreuse or gentle cerulean blue...) in many other ways than through dance. Follow your heart. Do what you love. Create. Be happy.

Anyway, the point of all this wafflage was to explain the reason for my costume tonight [30 Oct 2016] - Rocky Horror's Magenta, for all I'm not going to be colouring anyone's life. Well, all the aforementioned stuff and also wanting to have all my FVK ink* on display!

Thank you SO much for writing out the Latin for me by the way - I love them to bits for all my tatdoodlist and I messed up on the alignment...won't be so noticeable as I get more bits and pieces, plenty of room to represent the next chapter!

I know FVK hasn't ended up being everything you'd hoped but it has been a band that has changed and saved lives [my own included]. A whole lot of us will be taking that forward in music and art and fan-fic, in our hearts and under our skin, for the rest of our lives - and that is an incredible achievement. I have total faith in you and I am certain that the best is yet to come. For what it's worth you have my love and support - always.

Heggie xxx

*Red fangs, left wrist
Green CFTD lyrics (Latin), left upper arm
Red CFTD lyrics (Latin), right upper arm
Blue FFTF lyrics (Ancient Greek), right thigh
Teal heliskull, right thigh
Purple "Always Forgive" (my only tattoo in English so far), left ankle

Fearless Vampire Killers: Oxford - 14th April 2013

As it is now a week since our trip to Oxford it is certainly time to get off my backside (figuratively speaking as I am currently say at my computer) and write it up.

The decision to go was a simple enough one.  I may have been an FVK fan for all of 5 minutes but I really wanted to see them live.  There was no particular date on Fearless Vampire Killers' (FVK) Diamonds and Disgrace (D&D) Tour (at that point) that would be easier for us to get to than another.  The two April dates in Bristol didn't apply - the first being as a support act for the Misfits, the second being the first day of the Hit The Deck Festival.  Sorry, but I'm just not that fussed about other bands - I just want to see my boys so the D&D tour dates it had to be.  I picked Oxford because it's not so very far from my parents in Reading, it's a great place to visit and because it was a Sunday so I thought it'd be the most convenient for us.

Unfortunately, being a bit of an idiot I bought the tickets before I actually checked the train times and that was where it all became a bit more of an adventure...

So then I had to book a B&B for the night.  I won't go into how badly I cocked that up.  Let's just point out that I'd never done such a thing before and the chap had a really difficult accent and leave it there.  We got it all figured out in the end and we checked in okay in the end so no harm done, except to my pride.

My elder daughter Erin (17) was pretty excited about our trip as she's really into FVK too.  My younger daughter Kathleen (14) was less so because she is unbelievably weird and got very upset about having to miss school on the Monday.  And she wonders why she's such a misunderstood beastie...

Last Sunday we got all our bits and bobs together and headed out.  It was a pretty long journey - one of the Intercity trains to Reading that stops at every lamppost y'know?  The times I'd been given were all wrong and the journey took almost 2 hours longer than anticipated.  Then a regular train north to Oxford.  Looking out of the windows we realised just what a long and brutal winter it has been.  Here we are in mid April yet the fields are still waterlogged and the trees largely bare.

Arriving in Oxford we mooched through town getting our bearings and making our way to the B&B.  I haven't been to Oxford since I was a kid so it was essentially all new to me too.  We checked in okay and then collapsed in our room for a bit before getting into our outfits, sorting out our makeup and generally being quite girly.

Doors at the O2 Academy were 7pm and I reckon we got there to lurk a little after 6.  Not because we were mad keen to queue but because the anticipation was getting to us.  Erin was so keen to get in the queue that she sailed straight past lead guitarist Shane "Cyrus Barrone" Sumner - her favourite Fearless Vampire Killer - who was out front meeting fans.  I've been teasing her about that ever since!

We headed in and made our was to the merch stand for hoodies and wristbands all round.

There were three support acts: What Now?, The Reaper and Fort Hope.  Erin was quite taken with What Now? and later in the evening bought their CD and got it signed by two thirds of the band.  The Reaper were amazing - when a bunch of kids take to the stage you don't quite know what to expect but they rocked.  I bought their CD on the spot!

By the time Fort Hope came on we'd picked our positions for the evening.  Kathleen had decided to lurk near the backstage door which was the same side of the stage as bass guitarist Drew would be playing and had already managed to nab him for a photo.

Drew Woolnough & Kathleen

Erin and I were on the opposite side of the room cos she wanted to be in front of Barrone, I joined her at the start of Fort Hope's set cos my feet were killing me and there was some seating along the side.  It turned out to be an excellent spot.

When Barrone came on stage as part of the setting up the crowd gave him a "woooo!" and he looked up and gave the cutest grin, I can so see what Erin sees in him!  Luke meanwhile gave a royal wave - he's such a sweetie!

The show was great, our photos were less so given the lighting and hazy atmosphere.  That and the fact they bounce around the stage like dingbats...

Fearless Vampire Killers by Kathleen

For me the highlight had to be Fetish For The Finite cos it nearly killed me.  For some reason I can't find the YouTube video through Blogspot but this is the link if you're interested:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nt16A1tFJLA

Two minutes in, at the beginning of the line "I can't stand another night" I swear Laurence is looking right at me...there weren't a lot of other candidates in that corner with a wall right behind.  I forgot how to breathe.  Then, on the line "knowing you're not mine", he stretched out and pointed my way.  I damn near fainted!

There is I'm afraid no denying now that I have a serious crush on Laurence Beveridge.  Poor boy.

Barrone & Erin

After the show we lurked around for autographs and photo opportunities.  Erin didn't miss Barrone this time...although she did walk straight past Kier completely oblivious!!!  I gave my Militia Of The Lost deluxe CD to Kathleen and she got it signed by Luke, Drew and Barrone but then insisted I got Kier & Laurence's autographs myself.  Unfortunately, while we were lurking close to Laurence the O2 Academy booted us all out for the 11pm curfew but Laurence & Kier being total darlings they came outside with us.

We got Kier's autographs and photos with him first and then lurked in Laurence's direction again.  Seriously, I was doing okay up to that point...  Then Laurence looks over at me and says something like "hey, you're Heggie, right?" and...and...and...well YOU try having a coherent thought left in your head when the rockstar you're waiting to meet for the first time recognises you and remembers your name from a grand total of 15 tweets he's sent you!!!

I honestly have very little idea what happened from that point.  I remember him pulling the lid off the gold paint pen and popping it between his lips when he signed my CD...  And he said something about it being great to meet me at last...it was a damn good thing he had his arm around me at that point!  I mean HONESTLY what the hell do you say to that even if what's left of your brain hasn't melted and leaked away???

Laurence & I

It was all topsy-turvy and I didn't have the slightest clue what to say but it was an amazing night.  I practically floated back to the B&B...whereupon I had a good cry as it all got to me!

Mid Term Update

So...I started studying with the Open University earlier this year.  The late start AA100 course (The Arts Past and Present) runs February to September making this pretty much the mid-way point.
It's certainly proving to be a challenge but I think I'm doing pretty well so far.  I've done four out of seven TMAs (Tutor Marked Assignments) with the scores - 67%, 80%, 83% and 82%.  In fact I'm well on my way to passing the course.  I've enrolled to take A297 (Latin) and A251 (Archaeology) in the next academic year.
The friend who got me studying with the OU has sadly dropped out after being diagnosed as severely dyslexic.  It was a blow to her but thanks to the OU she now has a diagnosis.  Although it is perfectly possible for someone with Dyslexia to study at University level, she felt she couldn't continue at this time - who knows, maybe once she's learned to manage the condition she can try again?  Mind you, she wants to be a children's author and six years of study with little opportunity to write wasn't perhaps what she really wanted after all.
For a while there I felt really guilty.  She'd inspired me to study, I'd been a copycat and got my paperwork within 24 hours of her!  And, just for a while, I felt as if I'd stolen her dream.
But I didn't take this on to be a copycat, to try to keep up or go one better.  I'd never really imagined going to Uni, mostly because I never believed it could happen, but I desperately wanted to improve my life.  Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful to have a job and it's not that bad - but I have to get something full time in a couple of years or so...right now my options are really limited.  I really hope studying will help.  If nothing else it's making me feel better about myself and my situation.

Sour Apples

It has been quite a while since I last blogged and I apologise for coming back on a sour note.

Today I am feeling...resentful.

My sort of step dad is going into hospital today for surgery tomorrow due to suspected bowel cancer. He's a wonderful bloke and I'm very concerned for him - yet cautiously optomistic as, so far, all the tests have come back clear. My mum has been with him since the alarm bells sounded (they don't live together, hence the "sort of") and I don't resent the fact he's getting the care and support he needs. Not at all. I'm glad she's come through for him. Nuturing isn't in her nature.

Meanwhile, my dad has been expressing concern for his on/off girlfriend who has recently been diagnosed with terminal cancer of the mother. I don't like the sound of the mother in the slightest but I sympathise with what her daughter is going through, and will go through in the coming months.

So what is it that I resent? I resent that when I was going through my last cancer scare 4 years ago my mum didn't come and hold MY hand through all the appointments... Not, I suppose, that I really would've wanted her there but I don't think it ever occurred to her that I might need support.

I don't mean to sound like a stroppy adolescent but I've never felt loved or cared for by my parents. I'm an independent minded woman because I've had to be. I learned early in life that being sick or injured wouldn't make any difference. If my kid had been hit by a car at age 7 I'd have been beside myself with worry; I'd have cried and held my child for hours and I'm not exactly Ms Maternal myself. That's not how it was when I was hit by a car...

My ex left me just before my first cancer scare when I was 20. He was the only person I'd ever really believed cared about me but as I lay in hospital, frightened and alone after emergency surgery at 15 weeks pregnant with our second child, he told me on the phone he couldn't be bothered to visit me and bring me in a nightie. My parents were over a hundred miles away.

So, four years ago, I'd found another lump. My mum was taking me and my kids on holiday and I found the mass just hours before we were due to depart. I told my mum straight away and her reaction was to carry on regardless: a week's delay in going to a doctor wouldn't make any difference...after all, it had been okay last time! I agreed, partly cos I knew she'd be furious if I insisted on staying behind.

It WAS okay. Perhaps they were worried about me and didn't show it so as not to frighten me more than I already was... But ultimately I don't believe that.

I don't want to be needy and greedy and selfish but I wish so badly that I had someone I KNEW loved me, knew there was someone who'd be there at the drop of a hat to hold me and tell me everything would be all right. It frightens me that instead this searing loneliness may be all I'll ever know.

I want my step dad to be okay. I don't want to feel this way. I want to feel like a 33 year old independent woman and not like a lost and lonely child...