Yesterday was an overwhelmingly tough day for me, so like most bloggers, when the going gets tough, the most therapeutic way to offload, is to write it out.
I actually started this post as a means of distraction whist sat in A & E with a massively swollen finger. It looked like a prop finger in a horror movie. You get the picture. It had ballooned so badly that my rings (engagement, eternity and wedding) were slowly cutting off my circulation. I was in complete agony but the team at Harrogate Hospital, the Matron and her nurses were amazing, kind, caring and utterly determined to cut through those rings which held me captive.
Finally, despite some electrical devices on standby and a disclaimer that the next step would be the fire brigade, a pair of pliers and scissor style instrument won the day. And the reason for the big finger? All down to an episode of crazy water retention, a monthly hormonal inflicted thing that makes me bloat which took a turn for the worse, yesterday.
I’d felt my hand swelling the night before, attempted to take the rings off but in my tired state, decided it would be easier in the morning. Yep, I’m an idiot!
Alexander, 4 had woken up crying in the early hours and it was then that I’d noticed quite how badly my finger was throbbing. Trying to turn the lights on, I’d realise the fuse had gone downstairs and for the whole street (when it rains, it pours right) but managed to locate olive oil and fairy liquid to help shift them. Nothing worked. I scrolled through YouTube videos that involved removal with string and dental floss but was in such agony, I couldn’t face trying.
Not only was it getting more painful by the minute but it was also weirdly claustrophobic too.
After calling 111 and being advised to get to A and E, Xander suddenly started vomiting over the bed. You couldn’t make it up. And it gets worse. My mobile phone was out of service and I couldn’t find the portable house phone to see if my Dad could drive me to A &E as I was advised not to drive with my hand as it was. Argh!
Mopping up sick with one hand whilst my husband calmed Xander down, I eventually found the phone and was off to casualty thanks to Papa G.
What a day.
I realise what happened yesterday was not a huge medical drama. Many go through much worse. I have myself. It was just incredibly stressful and upsetting and disrupted normal life for us all. Yet I suppose normal life is just that though, messy and upsetting at times. The tough with the good. It can’t all be smooth sailing.
The worst, lowest point of my day though was missing Oliver, 6’s nativity play. With all the drama, I’d failed to check the nativity tickets and realised we’d booked the wrong show time, missing his debut as narrator. When I realised, I sat in the car, crying my eyes out, utterly heartbroken. I literally ached.
On collecting Oliver, I explained what happened, handing him a candy cane we were saving for Christmas. The kind boy that he is broken into pieces, handing them to friends nearby. He was a little deflated but took it well and was smiling and laughing within no time. If only I felt the same.
When he got back home. Oliver put on his own little performance for Daddy and I and whilst I went to bed heavyhearted, I reflected on the life lessons I was handed. S*** happens. We will overcome adversity.
Fully functional fingers must never be taken for granted.