STILETTO – a high pointed HEEL on a woman’s shoe or a small dagger.
WHEELS – a medieval instrument of torture or a vehicle for personal mobility.
A few weeks back, I finally caught the cold that everyone else had. Just a standard cold but on day two, I woke up with the right side of my face completely paralysed and no hearing in my left ear. Great, what’s not to love about immune disorder neuro-illnesses?
Having had similar occurrences before – the paralysis not the hearing loss – I know that the only thing to do is call the hospital for yet more steroids – always IV rather than oral for long-time users like me – and get myself into the day clinic. Sounds easy but it never is as the Registrars and SHO’s are always on rotation so my case is always new to them; they aren’t always familiar with the procedures and communication was a nightmare because I had lost my voice completely and my paralysed lips were unable to form comprehensible words - eating and drinking were proving tricky too as were the deafness and sore, weeping eyes (couldn’t blink or close eyes properly and you can damage your retinas real quick when that happens!). So EaZyD had to do all the chasing on this.
Poor him. Not only did he have to try and sort this out but, alongside, our car had failed its MOT! The handbrake was broken, had to be ordered from Germany and could only be fitted by the convertors at a cost of over a £1000. The convertors are an hour’s drive away and don’t do MOT’s. We couldn't drive the car because it had no tax or insurance without the MOT and, OK, we left it late but … only 4500 miles on the clock! We weren’t expecting a problem. We had to pay to get it towed, wait for the part, the fitting, EaZyD had to pick it up and get it MOT’d … or we’d have no transport to the hospital.
As if the hospital and the car were not enough aggravation, a pipe in the loft sprang a leak, or rather we became aware of a leak from the loft as the ceiling in my study developed a huge crack, stain and water bulge across it - right above my new shelves and all the books on them! Everything we moved in had to come out again. More money, more hassle and I still could not talk, so, EaZyD added the sourcing of a plumber and plasterer to his task list and sorted out repair and renovation.
Then, EaZyD lost his wallet (not entirely surprising given his stress level) and we had to cancel all our cards – yes, he carries some of mine … don’t ask! He’d cancelled all but one when we got a call to say someone had handed his wallet in – intact! Lucky, huh? But, as you cannot retract a cancellation, all our expenditure, including the car and house repair, had to go on the one remaining card that we had between us ...
Should I even mention the dental work we need and the £4500 quote for that? Whoa, no! We’ve kinda parked that and are hoping it doesn’t become urgent! Are we the only people without a ten grand contingency fund for ‘little’ emergencies? Surely not.
And then, last week, we had a testy week at the hospital where EaZyD was juggling some major work developments with all of the above and his usual domestic/caring for me routines. His vast capacity for hard work was stretched to its fullest and, under these circumstances, being asked, ‘why are you so late?’ when you’ve been in the office until 1am, after the hospital visit of the previous day, and are up again at 6am to do more work before you hit the rest of the day’s dramas is really something you can live without.
As we arrived at 4.15pm and were gone by 6.15pm, and they are supposed to be open until 8pm, we were not that late at all, in fact. Nor were we the last to arrive or depart but, hey, some people just live to create a crisis, huh?! Not us, luckily.
For once losing the EaZy part of his D, my patience-of-a-saint partner snapped: I HAVE GOT A JOB, YOU KNOW! That’s about as unleashed as he ever gets. Not sure they even noticed!
Fortunately, the worst of our dramas are over now. Sadly, no miracle recovery has occurred for me as yet but I have hope that the next few weeks will bring some positive developments and December can’t possibly be as bad as this, can it?