Where have I been again? You may well ask, originally I couldn’t type for around 3 to 4 weeks because I somehow injured my hand, I still don’t know what happened to it. Woke up one morning and couldn’t use it, it was so painful and I had to even change my diet to accommodate a spoon fed way of eating.
I couldn’t use my other hand as a substitute and go down the route of cutting things with forks, because that hand is permanently disabled and doesn’t work well due to being deformed.
I then caught a very bad head cold that made doing most things difficult and then a chest infection. During the chest infection something then happened where my shoulder and arm lost its entire strength and I was lopsided for about 2 weeks, as there was a noticeable slack to my shoulder muscle.
I gave up trying to do anything to the blog after all of this for the last 3 weeks because of the summer holidays and everybody who is a long term reader here knows how difficult I find working with Henry home as there is little support in keeping him out of my hair. Not to mention, that Paul is also badly injured, so couldn’t take Henry out for walks and hiking like he’d usually would. He has an Achilles problem we think, it’s hard to tell as he won’t see a doctor about it.
Henry starts High school for the first time on Friday and he is dreading it.
Henry has been having a lot of emotional problems in the past couple of years, quite serious anger and depression issues, but school so far has poo-pooed this as being something caused primarily by Covid isolation, but it was something that was building up around a year or two beforehand. Since Henry was eight years of age, he has been having suicidal thoughts and that unnerves me because I have never ever known anyone as young as that to be that depressed and is not trustworthy enough when he is angry to be around sharp objects! There is surprising little support about this primarily because of waiting lists and Covid didn’t help with that.
Until Henry actually attempts to physically harm himself in a manner of which can be officially proven, Henry is not considered an emergency case, even if he does punch himself in the face and chest really hard, because the bruising is not sufficient (whatever that means) he can wait.
Henry’s life, I admit has not been an easy one, it is no wonder he is growing up to become an angry and bitter soul. He is a member of Warwickshire Young Carers because he has me (a sick mum) and a sort of elderly father. Though I impose no care routine on Henry, school felt that the young carers could give him emotional support because his mother’s health and future is uncertain.
Along with this, Henry has experienced a lot of death in his father’s family and the majority of family communication from Paul’s side has stopped because certain people have passed away or they have their own illnesses or problems and cannot commit to visiting more than once a year on average. In Henry’s small life, he has heard of nine family deaths, and four serious family illnesses. Four of the deaths affected Henry directly because three were his main child carers when I went in and out of hospital. There is no one we can rely on for that anymore, so basically I have to skip hospital appointments if they coincide with Henry’s holiday times. A family friend also died of Covid recently.
Along with this we also have a problematic neighbour which makes Henry nervous to go out into the garden anymore, in fact, so do I.
I’d like to move but Henry doesn’t and Paul respects Henry’s wishes on that.
Because I don’t feel safe with this excessively nosy, rude and obnoxious neighbour, Paul and I have planned to get a dog. We did organise a border collie with a farmer, but the breeding went wrong and they only had 2 pups which survived the birth and we have to wait another two years. But luck has it that we may end up by Christmas with a bloodhound, because a local man wants to give away a couple of his pups to a good home for free and he said he won’t want them to go before they are 6 months of age. It is likely to be a female bloodhound and a solid colour, very light brown or as the man calls it, yellow.
In the past I was very skilled at training dogs and was once offered a position as a police dog trainer but my mother made me turn it down, because I have to bring my work home with me and she didn’t want extra dogs in the house.
A bloodhound will be a new experience and I have done a lot of research on the breed to see if I can cope. Physically maybe not, but if all else fails you can walk a dog with a disability scooter, lol.
But I think… though Paul disagrees and thinks I am way too optimistic…. That I am only as sick as I am because I am not motivated for doing things for myself. I live for others; I have never lived for myself. Paul has always endeavoured to take a lot of my responsibilities away from me because he wants to indulge in caring for me and also Henry. So Paul doesn’t need me and neither does Henry, every time I try to do something for either of them, someone else takes over. I guess that’s why I am so sick, it’s a form of depression – I don’t feel needed. I don’t feel I would be missed. I have absolutely forbidden both Paul and Henry to do anything with the dog if we get one. Because I think, I need that needed feeling back again and I think a dog is the answer!
I am trying to find new ways to feel needed.
I know I sound like a sad bugger saying all this.
But I need to try to find something that makes me feel that I have some value.
So, I have a webcam and mic now – I am researching skill share and other things about how to set up a YouTube channel and how to create an art and writing business.
I am hoping to start the YouTube channel by January 1st, perhaps sooner; I don’t know how long it will take me to learn all this technological stuff to do it.
I’ll keep you posted.
Thanks for reading!
tardycreative.com 