Big day

And I say that in a completely ironic, sarcastic way. It has been the complete opposite of productive around here and, funnily enough, I am extremely proud of that fact.

I have no idea what Geek and I are going to do for dinner. I have not got the faintest clue where the last three hours have disappeared to (there may have been a nap involved).

Today was a day for apathy. I am totally over it.

Work sucks. The job I am doing is destroying my soul at a rate of knots and it is crushing my spirit along with it.

The job that I want to do, as far as I am aware, doesn't actually exist. There are TAFE courses that I can do, but they will give me a piece of paper that qualifies me to do precisely nothing that will earn me any money... and not only do we have a mortgage to finance, we have to cats relying on us for sustenance and dammit my kitties will not go hungry!

What I really want to do with my life- what I've wanted to do for as long as I can remember, is be a mum.

My secondary ambition (the one that is likely to make me money, and that I can likely manage to do at the same time as raising a brood of kidlets) is to be a writer.

Now, I don't care if it's journalism, blogging, fiction, research, proofreading, editing or beta-reading fanfiction- if I can get paid to read and write as a professional, my life will be complete.

I already beta read, and this blog is my attempt at making sure that I get some regular writing out (I know, I need more discipline... but between the seizure/syncope issues and some less than fantastic attempts to upgrade my computer I've been a little preoccupied with real life to blog regularly), but with the love and support of my Geek I may well be going back to TAFE next year to do a Certificate IV in Professional Writing and Editing.

God only knows what I can do with that qualification, but a few years ago when I mentioned perhaps undertaking that course one of my not-so-lovely relatives said 'Oh, yeah, that'll be as useful as a philosophy degree!'

So I didn't do it.

But now... now I have a chance to maybe do something that will make me a bit happier. Maybe if I start a full-time course I can drop the soul-crushing hours to 15 or so a fortnight -one or two nights per week- and get myself into a better frame of mind.

I'll keep you posted. Promise.

diagnoses and specialists

I had another 'instance'. Well, a few actually. Five in total, now. After one of them I spent two nights in hospital (after 8 hours in casualty waiting to get admitted, finally taken up to the ward at 2:45AM) had a CT scan, an MRI and an ECG before finally getting sent home.

The whole theory about the aging population seems to have been confirmed by what I saw in the hospital- I get that older people get sick more often, but I cut a few laps of the ward and I was the youngest patient on the entire floor by a good thirty years.

Thank goodness for my Geek. When I got admitted it was after I'd been unconscious on the floor of the lounge for 90 minutes, called the ambulance and then followed it up to the hospital. He was going to stay with me until I got admitted, but I sent him home around eleven when it looked as if I was still a few hours off admittance... turned out I was right.

I'm also pretty grateful that mobile phones are allowed on the wards now- I was able to text Ace and request some real clothes (not to mention some pyjamas and my laptop). Those hospital gowns are less than flattering!

I got some jeans, a few t-shirts and- luxury of luxuries!- a bra delivered to me, plus a few dvds to keep my sanity intact.

Nothing like real clothes to make a girl feel human! Plus Ace, being the genius that he is, had thoughtfully made sure that the DVDs he had delivered were seasons 4 and 5 of House. Of course. I'm in hospital with some unknown thing making me pass out for extended periods so he gives me a TV show about a brilliant doctor to get me through.

Since the hospital admittance I've had four more 'instances'- we're not sure if they're seizures or syncope (sudden drop in bood pressure) but the longest I've been unconscious is 20 minutes, and I've flatly refused to go back to hospital, mainly because in the 48 hours I was actually up there I saw my doctor for a grand total of two minutes, and his lackeys (I assume interns/fellows) for about ten. I get that they're busy, but seriously?

I've had an EEG, too (the gel stuff they use makes your hair feel disgusting) and apparently the timeframe for results to come back is three weeks.

And then, of course, my 'specialist' appointment, which was supposed to be tomorrow, has been delayed to the 25th of August.

Stuff it, I'm going to make an appointment with my own doctor and see if we can figure it out.