34 ways to say WTF

Hey if you are a man who's about marry a 40+ year old woman then read this post.

After the age of 40 things start to go downhill for us women. And now that I'm in the final years of my forties, things are really going downhill rapidly. In fact I feel like the Jamaican bobsled team. WTF is on the tip of my tongue most of the time now (and shouted out loud when I'm alone). Since getting married my old bod has been acting strange. For a few years, I've had unexplained illnesses that have been alarming but then disappeared as quickly as they arrived. I initially blamed it all on being married to a Scot,having regularly conjugals and not eating a proper guju diet every day, then later blamed it on having a sprog as that does nasty things to your body that are best not to dwell on especially if you want to conceive. 

I've had nights drenched in sweat, I've had tummy problems, and some weird aches and pains down and around there. I've had nights where I couldn't sleep or days and days where I couldn't stay awake. I started looking suspiciously at my sister in law who has ME and wondered if it was contagious. I started looking suspiciously at anyone who coughed, sniffled or anything near me. And then I lost interest in everything. It made it very hard to be motivated to work, to cook, to clean to do anything except fret.

Then one sleepless night I came across this list : 34 Menopause Symptoms and hallelujah the pin dropped and and I felt like realisation whacked my in the face with the force of Mjölnir. I've had a fair few of those and when I stopped seeing the usual amount of  blood (i.e. missed a month, then another, wished&prayed that I was pregnant but lived in fear that I was,then stupid AF was back again) it all sort of made sense. 

So the poor hubby has spent the last few years dealing with all this and then I relayed to him the fact that our 7 year old has underarm hair and may be entering puberty early (apparently this is getting more and more common). WTF. I said WTF!!! I wanted to scream WTF.  Just as my system is shutting down, hers is getting reading for the change. She's too bloody young and so am I. We are neither of us ready for these changes. And neither is the hubby who just wants her to be his little girl for quite a few years more and his wife to stop being a raving lunatic. 

Alarmingly, a third of kids alive today will live to well past 100 so it seems perverse that they are hitting puberty earlier. Wouldn't it be wonderful if they could enjoy being children for a lot longer and further down the line, have menopause later. Bloody mother nature. Just WTF.

Losing sight of the important things

Yesterday, in the swing park I got chatting to a man who had brought his grandson to play. Turns out the man used to be a professional landscape photographer, who also taught youngsters to photograph. Then last year a virus got in his eye and his vision deteriorated. He can't do his job anymore. He has been told by surgeons that he could get his cornea replaced (using a donated one from a dead person) but there is no guarantee the operation would work. So what would you do....little eyesight/no eyesight/perfect sight?

Stones

I was sad to hear of Heavy D's death. For those that don't know, he was a rather large rapper who was most famous for his 80's hit "Now that we found love" - a very upbeat song. He was the same age as me. They don't know what killed him but there is already some speculation that it was linked to his obesity. It sucks to be obese. I'm feeling the bad effects of it as I have either got a stomach ulcer, or gallstones. Big contributing factors in the latter are a) being a woman  and b) being even slightly overweight like what I am. In the last few months, I've had attacks of the most excruciating pain - on one occasion I was stuck in  Edinburgh station with tot and hubby, doubled up in pain and trying to puke my guts out. Luckily, after asking for help from the police, we were taken to a quiet first class lounge so that I could ride out the pain. I have nothing but praise for the station staff and the policeman particularly as I was getting stressed about boarding a train then bringing it to a standstill as I writhed about like a possessed woman.
Since then there have been more attacks. My doc is trying to help with antibiotics, antacids, antispasmodics but the attacks continue to come every few days. This Tuesday it was so bad, that we called an ambulance. My poor tot was distressed as I was taken away. But by the time I arrived at the shiny new Forth Valley hospital the attack was over and I felt like a bit of a twit. I hope it is all sorted soon as at the moment it means I restricted to a low fat, high fibre diet which make for very boring cooking. And don't bring a curry near me as I'm liable to tell you to stick it where the sun doesn't shine.

A pox upon your house

A bunch of the kids in my little one's nursery have come out with chicken pox. Luckily so far, our kid hasn't caught it which is a good thing as Mr Plummy Mummy has never had it - wouldn't do to catch it a few days before starting a new job.
I remember having it as a kid and once the weeping sores stopped we went to the seaside. As soon as the salt water hit my skin, I screamed in agony (mind you, as a treat I was given some frozen watermelon which was delicious. Food really does comfort).
Chicken pox is not fun and is particular bad for kids with skin conditions like eczema. I tell you what else isn't fun - the NHS slide show on childhood conditions. Grim. Don't look if you have just eaten.

Bitter sweet

The day started off rather bitterly as I had to go for a smear test. This is a godawful thing for any woman to go through as an instrument resembling eyelash curlers is shoved up your privates and then the shover has a root around to get a good look at your cervix. It's so undignified but it must be done as regular screening ensures that any changes can be detected earlier. I was mildly curious to see that the instrument of torture has now been changed to some plastic contraption (which must be more hygienic I hope than the previous, re-usable thing). Before I was subjected to torture, the nurse noticed that I had been called in for high cholesterol last year and went on about my need to change my diet. I was weighed and despite joining a Zumba class, had lost sod all weight. The advice is to cut out: Cheese, chocolate, biscuits, bread, carbohydrates, crisps and ICE CREAM. She didn't mention cake but I'm sure that's on the banned list. I almost feel that I might as well be dead but having a child soon puts an end to such selfish melodrama.
Afterwards I trundled off home and sadly told Mr Plummy that it best we give our plan to visit the London 2011 Chocolate Festival a miss. One of the reasons I love my husband is that he is able to say "Pah" to nonsense and so after lunch off we all went to the South Bank.
Wasn't it gloriously hot today in beautiful London? Probably not the best weather to be hanging around a choccy festival, no matter how pretty the decorated items were. We tried a bit of salted caramel (nice) and tot had some vanilla choc all the way from Italy. There were only a few stalls and my best one had a chocolate raspberry ladybird for £5. Luckily for our wallets, heat put us off carrying anything around so we looked but didn't buy.
It was a nice surprise to see Greenwich Meantime Brewery with a stall here. I didn't notice if they had any chocolate beers but I'm sure tomorrow when the crowds really get going, they will do great business. The pose the young man held as I quickly took a photo was very funny.
A nice stroll past the Eye and back towards Cannon Street lifted my mood no end. Along the way, I took a few more photos with my little phone. The silt/sand sculptures were particularly impressive but I did worry about the man spending so much time in Thames Water - is that safe?
And of course, like on any sunny day, we had to stop by the ice cream van. Don't worry - I was good and had a cone of Lemon Sorbet. Please don't tell me this is on the banned list too.

Local honey

I've got that familiar itch in my nose and on the roof of my mouth which signals the annual arrival of hay fever for me. I suffer quite badly and without a steady supply of pills and nasal sprays, will end up a snotty, miserable wreck with red swollen eyes and nose. I have the ability to sneeze louder than a Boeing 747 usually achieving about 6 or 7 outbursts in a row. Sound like I'm proud of this but I'm not - I love the outdoors but on high pollen doors I'm confined to my house like some sad Howard Hughes type recluse.
I've been that locally produced honey can help so I was excited to read about the kids at the Charlton Manor Primary School who have a hive in their gardens. Unfortunately, the school has just told me the bees are now hibernating and they will not be producing honey until July. That's wonderful for the kids but unfortunately, not great for me.
So my question to you all - have any you ever tried locally produced honey and where did you get it?

Eczema

This morning I noticed blood on our sheets. Not alas, a result of some kinky conjugal games but my husband scratching in his sleep. He has eczema as does our 3 year old. In some ways, they are very lucky because it's contact eczema rather than food allergy eczema. Even so, we have to be careful with our washing powder, the bath products we use, any perfumed products. We have lots of emollient and steroids on hand to keep things under control.
After every bath, and every day before nursery, I lather our tot in Diprobase. And when she comes back from nursery or playing in the park, I have to inspect her hands for any traces of sand or dirt and hope that she hasn't washed too many times as wet hands can quickly become itchy hands. I have to check her inner elbows and behind her knees.  All these areas are really prone to eczema and left unchecked, she would end up with raw, bloody, skin prone to infections. She would be up most of the night which would also mean less sleep for all of us, something that can make the condition worse.
We are very lucky in that her nursery seems aware of food allergies and eczema. There are info posters up of another tot who is not able to eat certain foods. A good reminder. And for my tot, they have quickly understood that we prefer her to wear her own spare clothes rather than the nursery ones.
A friend is not so lucky and has a tot that can break out in bad eczema if she goes near the wrong food or touches the wrong thing. And it seems her nursery needs educating. If yours is the same, then you may find the School packs on the Eczema org site useful.

I would be interested in hearing of any other useful tips for dealing with eczema.

111 will not be the one

It's the middle of the night, you don't feel right and there are no doctors about. You kinda know that you don't need A&E but you want someone to tell you that.
Your kid is hot, crying and has a rash. Should you worry?
You are puking your guts out, green bile and empty air that your stomach wants to heave out. But you need to breastfeed. Is it safe?
You have had your tonsils out, your throat hurts like nothing you have ever experienced but on release from hospital you were told to expect this. You want to make sure.
These are all scenarios that we have faced in the last few years. Ones that didn't have us running off to A&E or to the local Grabadoc (which is a great service). However, we wanted someone to tell us it was OK or to give us some advise. Someone with years of training and experience. A doctor preferably or a nurse.
That 's what you get when you ring NHS Direct. Some sensible advice and sometimes that means a trip to the hospital, other times it eases the mind and lets you know that contrary to how you feel, you are not actually dying.
That's why we won't use the 111 service where nurses will be replaced by "trained adviser" who are probably reading out of a manual. I want to know that the person I'm speaking to is a professional with some proper training. If I wanted a manual, I'd just reach for a book or google.
I wonder how many people will start going to A&E depts or their doctors when this service rolls out.

Progress

The diet is NOT going well. I hate that word "Diet". It conjures up horrid images of that gillian mckeith fraud and poo and smelly funny green shakes. It immediately makes my brain go into starvation mode and all I can think about is food. I swear in the middle of the night I hear it calling me - eat me, eat me - EAT ME. Luckily the prospect of stepping on a slug in the kitchen keeps me firmly rooted to my bed.
I haven't had butter for a week. Yayyyyyyyyyy me. However, my old friends Cheese, Chocolate, Crisps and Ice cream have all over-extended their welcome in my life and really should be hitting the road rather than the tonsils at the back of my gob (if I could cram them all in at once, I would).
As for exercise...well I got that by walking around Bluewater. What a ridiculously huge place, they could have an indoor marathon there. I like that there are a lot of stairs there as you can get more exercise going up and down rather than using lifts and escalators.
In all this misery, there is one bright spot of good news. I believe I have found the cause of my good levels of good cholesterol...red wine. Yummy red wine. So at least while my heart gives out, I can happily drown my sorrows with the knowledge that for once, alcohol is not that awful.

P.S. I must stop eating the tot's left overs. I'm sure that's a big culprit in my ever expanding waistline.
P.P.S. If a swanky cafe ever opens in Plumstead, I promise to run there and back just so I can have cupcakes.

Have your cake...

I seem to be falling apart. I guess it's to be expected as I have had this body for well over 40 years now and in all honesty have done little to look after it.
A few months ago I was told I have periodontisis. That was very annoying as I am a brush and floss kinda girl. But I shouldn't have ignored the obvious signs for so long (bleeding gums, toothy hurty etc). So now to stop the rot, I have to have expensive treatment. Still not decided if I'll do that. So in a few years time, I'll be a toothless wonder.
Probably a good thing since this week I was told I have very high cholesterol. Again, the signs were there in the form of the tyre I carry around my middle. I'm an apple shape. Apples are healthy, apple shapes are portentous...if you have one, expect to die a horrible death as your internal organs are squeezed by all those layers of fat.
My good cholesterol is good, but my bad cholesterol - the type that clogs your arteries and causes strokes etc - is very, very bad. Means fewer cupcakes for me especially those that are laden with butter cream frosting for in the war against bad chol. butter is on the axis of evil. Means watching what I put in my gob and as restrictions of being a vegetarian already apply, I fear food is going to become boring (though rest assured that the ChiliPaperChains site will not become one of lo-cal food).
According to the literature the nurse gave me, it's not enough to change diet I must exercise. Shamefully, I realise that I should use my Wii board rather than let it collect dust. I should find my skipping rope and become as adept as Muhammed Ali at floating like a butterfly. Releasing the tot to go wild so I can chase her is one option. Running the cats out of my front garden another. Gardening, weeding, that will help. And, if you happen to see a little Asian woman who looks as if she is having a heart attack around the Common, just walk on by. It will be me trying to jog. I've been given 3 months before they decide to put me on drugs so I better get on with it.
It may seem I'm not taking this at all seriously but I am. I don't want to leave tot or hubby before I'm a doddery old woman, so now I'm going to have to get on with looking after myself. Wish me luck.

Anti-snoring programme - the next stage

Last year I wrote about the issue of living with a snorer.
In Aug '09, I posted about the surgery Mr Plummy Mummy had to correct a deviated septum. That was the first stage of his surgical anti-snoring programme. On Monday this week, he had stage 2: tonsillectomy and uvulopalatoplasty (no, not a vuvezela).
It was a day surgery - in at Noon, home by 9pm. The drugs did work for a bit but now the pain has set in and he is sitting limpid on the sofa trying to not to shout too much during the footie matches. Watching him trying to swallow is hard as he's in such pain. Even jelly going down hurts.
The purpose of this stage is to remove some mass from the back of his neck so that he can breathe easier when lying down and therefore, snore less. That's the theory. I haven't been in the main bedroom this week, having taking to sleeping elsewhere so I don't have to see the poor man suffer.
I daresay I will be sleeping elsewhere for some time if I don't do my part and lose some weight which I believe makes me snore like a querulous walrus.

P.S. in that august post I also wrote about losing a baby. We are no closer to another but now that our's has hit the terrible 2s, I'm a tiny bit pleased only to deal with one.

In case of emergency

I've just been reading about that poor lad Sam Linton who died following an asthma attack in school. That was 2 years ago. A pointless, avoidable death.
One question I asked myself was whether he had a mobile phone and could have called/texted his parents for help.
Do any of your kids have a phone? Have you set up an emergency speed dial/text for them?
There is some debate on the safety of mobile phones and until this is resolved, I wouldn't be too keen to give one to the tot. Apart from safety, there are all the issues of cost and usability.
However, if she had some condition that could lead to death, I may change my mind. Mind you by the time she's in full time school, we will all be connected on the net all the time and I'll be able to track her movements using a gps, twitter-like and facebook-like. Won't that be fun when she's a teenager ;)
Other options could be an emergency button like the elderly used.
While this may be overly protective, I'd rather be that then a parent attending her child's funeral.

p.s. On your phone have you set up an ICE number? (in case of emergency...call "number").

Lurgies

The Plummy Mummy household has been full of lurgies for the last few weeks. We have had our first wave of winter colds though I was convinced I had man flu as I could hardly move. On top of this we have been waiting to see if tot has got chickenpox as she was in close proximity to another tot who got the pox which has meant being confined in our movements.
All in all, we have felt sorry for ourselves as we have been hacking up our lungs and noting the colour of the stuff coming out. Poor tot hasn't learnt how to do this particular trick so ends up regurgitating her food.
The potential of pox means we have to avoid all preggers ladies and any recently borns. So I am considering carrying a bell and loudly declaring the presence of the tot as we walk around Co-op.
I've been peering at her skin rather closely to see if she has any tell tale signs....so far we have seen rashes but they aren't itchy. They also disappear so perhaps this is a case of projected pox psychosamaticism?
Hope we get better soon as boredom may bring out a severe case of the terrible twos...a fate which we have so far managed to avoid :D

A Tale of Two Hospitals

Health has been very much on the Plummy Mummy household's minds in the last few weeks.
Hubby went for the first stage of his anti-snoring programme....having a deviated septum fixed at Lewisham hospital.
As I'm not overly familiar with the layout of Lewisham, let alone the hospital, there was much teeth-grinding and general moaning on my part as I dropped him off and picked him up later in the same day. Some of that moaning was to do with the distance we travelled for him to have his nose picked.
Poor sod was in agony for a week and I cowered as I realised that it was my fault he went for the surgery (threats of my leaving him if he didn't get that snoring sorted). But as you will see below I had some justification for being in a bad mood.
Our second visit to the hospital was less stressful as I knew where I was going and actually found the parking to be logical once you figured it all out.
He's a lot happier now that the splints have been removed from inside his nose and should be back at work next week. He's also snoring less so I'm happier.

My hospital experience was somewhat different. I was 7 weeks pregnant, but am no longer having miscarried 6 days before hubby's surgery. There has been considerable pain and sadness over this not least because at our age, any delay in increasing the size of our family is quite a blow. I spent a lot of time on the net during the whole business (which took nearly 2 weeks to complete and is still ongoing) looking at causes. In my case methinks its AGE. There is a 51% chance of miscarriage. I didn't know this before. It's burned into my brain now. Mostly I feel sad for my tot as she is that much further away from having a sibling.
I had two visits to QEH in Woolwich. A much easier place to get to and to park in than Lewisham hospital. As I sat for hours waiting, I was reminded just how many chavs live round here. I saw red when a couple of the stupid bints got on the phone to graphically discuss their miscarriages while others, including me, were waiting around to see the sonographer. The saddest thing was on the 2nd visit when I knew it was all over, a young woman came in with her daughter and new born child. She obviously didn't cotton onto the fact that there were women around her who had lost theirs. My heart went out to a very sad looking lady sitting next to the oblivious one.
I have no doubt we will try again and have been encouraged by women who have told me they went on to have successful pregnancies. In the meantime, my heart has a tiny hole for the soul who only stayed with me for 7 weeks. I will never forget that baby.

Grounds for divorce?

In the States, snoring can be cited as grounds for a divorce...under the "unreasonable behaviour" category.
I guess it's unreasonable if you are a snorer and don't try to do anything about it. However, everyone has the right to a sound sleep. On the other hand, it's also unreasonable to be angry at a snorer who does try and still snores. I fall into this later category in that I have been very unreasonable with my husband who is trying his hardest to cure his snoring (sleep positions, mouth guard, nose strips, surgery to be considered).

Snoring can lead to emotional issues (taken from the interweb):

• lack of sleep, leading to depression and anxiety
• marital breakdown and divorce, due to lack of sleep and lack of empathy (remember, the snoring partner doesn’t often know the pain that they are unwittingly causing!)
• eviction by a landlord and the resulting humiliation (this may sound funny, but some people have literally been kicked out of their homes because of their snoring!)
• warring roommates and neighbors
• job loss, due to inability to concentrate and focus (because of sleeplessness)
• memory and retention problems due to sleeplessness

These can lead to the following states for both the snorer and his partner:

• frustration
• anger
• feelings of violence
• helplessness
• desperation
• anguish
• exhaustion
• growing resentment
• lack of confidence and self-esteem

There is also a long list of physical issues. But I'm feeling emotional at the mo so that's where I'm concentrating. Lately I've been feeling a fair few of the emotional states. The sleep deprivation has of course been worsened by the tod having a cold and needing night time cuddles etc.

Thing is...and here is my very guilty little secret. I snore too. Unlike my husband I've not done much to address that. So it turns out, I'm the unreasonable one. That's going to change. I'm going to lose weight (after Easter eggs have all been consumed) and get a humidifier and try to ensure my nasal passages are lubricated. There are many non surgical techniques to try and we'll keep going to we find one that works. And then maybe we will all get a bit of rest round here.

It's certainly not grounds for a divorce. We have our 2nd year anniversary next week and I hope there will be many more.