Gradual recovery

For the third time, I’ve used a screenshot from “Full Metal Jacket” — this time, because I got my head shaved but still wear glasses!

It’s frustrating that I have to go through this process — instead of working at the job I enjoy, socialising in London and working out, I have to stay down here in Worthing with my mother and grandmother, to make sure I’m slowly recovering my health after that operation.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for my folks taking care of me, cooking my dinner and cleaning my clothes — I just wish I didn’t have so much to recover from, and even if I’m no longer having severe “mind static” attacks, I can’t help but wonder if it’s waiting in the wings…

It’s certainly true that I’ve regained the ability to walk and get about — I didn’t need to use my grandmother’s stairlift to get up the stairs when I came back here — and I’m able hear clearly again: my right ear, which was interpreting sounds rather strangely (missing frequencies?), seems to be picking up everything normally now, while a large amount of wax has come out of my left ear since my scars healed and discarded their stitches enough for me to feasibly dunk my head in the bath.

(A good time to start listening to Gwar again, don’t you think?)

I can go for walks again and build up my steps, but my mother keeps me company when we go down to the seafront, just in case — and since I find myself petting friendly dogs a great deal, it’s a good job she’s staying with me, as I still feel dizzy when I stand up after kneeling down!  Just in the sense of weakness and instability (rather than quasi-memories flooding my head), but it’s worrying, and makes it clear I won’t be fit to return to work for a while longer, though apparently they’ll need me to have an Occupational Health exam before letting me back into the fold anyway.

Worse, I can’t seem to sleep at nights — something that was going on a great deal this time last year, despite that being long before my operation; it may be a combination of the temperature, sleeping in a relatively unfamiliar bed, noise outside (particularly seagulls and drivers), and just simply being anxious all over again (despite my best efforts to deny it).  “Sleep aid” pills certainly help me fall asleep, but they don’t stop me waking up in the middle of the night.  In any case, since I’m taking a lot of medication already (levetiracetam and lamotrigine), I’m a little reluctant to take anything else on top.

However, my mother’s convinced me to try CBD oil (which mercifully comes in vegetarian capsules), so we’ll have to see if that helps with my insomnia and obsessive behaviour, but I’ll need to consult the brain-doctor in London later this month (when I have an appointment), to see if it’s wise to continue.  There’s also talk of taking anti-histamines (which I was previously advised could act against my anti-epilepsy medication), and resuming taking multivitamins (which someone at work, whose father had a tumour, reckons only makes your urine expensive), but we’ll have to see.

Aside from the blood pressure issue, being able to pet friendly dogs here almost every day (something which happens much more rarely in London) has helped me emotionally, though if anything I feel melancholic!  My folks’ hairdresser also sometimes brings her energetic terrier over to visit, and I play with her and take her for walks, but there’s plans for us to get a new, permanent family dog — one who likes sitting in our laps, and won’t trip my grandmother over or bite visitors to the household.  It’s 19 years since we had to have Scraps put down due to her declining health, but my grandmother’s finally agreed to have a new dog around the house… and I’ll be able to walk it when I come to visit in future!

Still, I find this isn’t a good time in my life: despite playing old games like StarCraft and Unreal on my Worthing PC (and Pokémon GO on my phone — we’re right next to a Pokémon gym!), I’ve suffered a bit from depression, apparently a normal symptom of recovering from surgery but being mostly housebound, and probably not helped by medication or the consumption of a great deal of protein (as happened in 2013, when I wasn’t recovering from surgery).  I’ve not been suicidal or anything quite that bad, but I wish I could move things on, and not have to linger here in this town…

Worst of all, though, is that I’ve got calls and arrangements to make, because (a) it seems that Charing Cross, the hospital that operated on me, is being extremely cagey about the nature of my tumour, or indeed how much of it they actually took out; and (b) as of April, I’m finally earning enough that I can’t defer repaying my 1990s student loans (which predate the Blair administration) to the private businesses that now own my debts instead of the taxpayer.

In the former case, I may have to go to UCLH in Russell Square after all (as was being planned when Charing Cross was taking ages to actually arrange my operation in the first instance), to see if they can do a new analysis of my brain condition; in the latter case, at least I’m receiving sick pay for now, and not having to use the London Underground to commute, and it’ll be a while before I start paying my personal trainer again — so for a while at least, and maybe until I’ve paid them off, I shouldn’t make a loss overall each month.

I also feel the need to wear a hat, to conceal my shaven head

Anyway, maybe now I should try to sleep again — going to bed around 9pm hasn’t helped this week, and neither has having a bath beforehand to relax me, but I’ve drunk cider this evening, and I’ve got a nasal strip to put on, so my nose doesn’t partially close up during the night; I also took a CBD tablet during the day.  Here’s hoping I have a good night’s sleep, and thus Friday is a better day, and the beginning of a better period of my life, when I finally recover in earnest…

But only at 10pm — I’m not going to bed early like some old codger, dammit!  Why, I used to be able to stay up until 1am playing video games and watching Family Guy, before getting up at 7am to make lunch for my full-time working day…

3 thoughts on “Gradual recovery

  1. Pingback: The longer road to recovery | Dave-ros Lives!

  2. Pingback: Age is just an inconsistent number | Dave-ros Lives!

  3. Pingback: Matters coming to a head | Dave-ros Lives!

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