Wednesday 27 March 2013

Conjunctivitis, cold sores and costochondritis

I'm better!

Ha - bet you weren't expecting that, from the title of this post.

But I am. I am not depressed. I'm laughing, listening to music and marvelling at how sweet my baby is (even if he does show signs of turning a bit ginger). I can't tell you what a relief it is. NB I'm not doing those three things at once, they're just examples of things I wasn't doing up until quite recently.

But fear not, there will always be plenty of material for this blog in our household. We are frigging ill all the frigging time, and our strike rate's only going to increase now that we have another infant to catch things.

Let's start with the cold sores that I have at both corners of my mouth. Just to make me look like a leper, and feel as popular as Boris Johnson. But ha ha, I don't care - I'm better!

Lix has had conjunctivitis. Because that's pretty much de rigeur for any baby, every six weeks, isn't? Poor boy, he's got months, if not years, to go before starting nursery, but swinging through when depositing/collecting Logie a couple of times has been enough for him to catch it. Okay, it's a bit unfair to blame it on nursery - but I don't care what people think now, I'm better!

I've got a brilliant thing that is not only an itis, it ticks all sorts of other favourite boxes:


  • It's painful, and is likely to be so for a while, so I should get good whinging mileage from it.
  • It's related to my bad back, a subject which I know every single one of you feels they haven't really heard enough detail about.
  • It requires me to go to the osteopath for treatment, which gets rid of regular amounts of pesky money clogging up my bank account. And means I get to spend lots of time in the car closely inspecting the roadworks on the Hammersmith roundabout.
  • It's normally eased by taking non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drugs, which I'm not allowed to take, because they make my stomach bleed. So that gives me more opportunity to behave like eeyore. (One can't complain. One has one's friends. Somebody spoke to me only yesterday. And it was last week, or the week before, that Rabbit bumped into me and said Bother.)


But my poor-me touchpaper is refusing to light, because I'm better!

Anyway, it's called costochondritis, which is an inflammation of the cartilage that attaches the ribs to the breastbone. Basically, I have pain in my chest, and in my upper back. And the osteo says I've also popped a rib out as well, for good measure.

It's probably not unrelated to the position that I breastfeed in - holding Felix under my arm like a rugby ball. But I struggle with the orthodox way, and now he refuses to even try it. Carrying my nemesis the Maxicosi car seat doesn't help either.

But the only thing that's really a cause for concern in our family right now is Logie's behaviour. It is, how can I put it? Diabolical.

Everything is a battle. Every request or suggestion from me or Jon provokes a tantrum or a refusal. Nothing is achieved without several minutes of bribery or threats. 

Of course a certain amount of this is to be expected from a terrible 2-year-old, especially one who's coming to terms with the arrival of a new sibling. And a certain amount's been going on for a while. But it's suddenly escalated to practically all the time - and for once I'm not exaggerating.

Twice he has pooed in the bath. Last night he spat in Jon's face. He doesn't hand me things any more, he throws them - especially if they're food that will spatter.

The only place he doesn't behave like West London's youngest ASBO is at nursery. Where he's been as good as normal, happily putting on his coat as soon as asked, going to sleep without a fuss and even, yesterday, eating no less than chicken curry for lunch. 

I'd happily agree to him having conjunctivitis too, if they could get this behaviour to extend to the rest of the week. But although I mind, I'm not spending much time worrying about it. Because. I. Am. Better.

ps Here's a puzzling incident with Logie that I'd like to share, in case anyone can decipher it. Answers on a postcard please. For days he's been asking for a Barbie. Not a baby-shaped doll, but specifically a Barbie, ie with boobs and blonde hair.

Yesterday Felix (well, I) bought him one from FARA Kids for £1.50 which had been seriously pre-loved - her toes had been chewed off and she was drastically in need of a deep conditioning treatment. He was thrilled. Played with her intently for over an hour, then spent half an hour insisting she'd done a poo, then snapped her head off. Huh?

Wednesday 20 March 2013

ECT side effects

Far and away the most important thing to say is that I am getting better. The electro-convulsive therapy is working.

But I am experiencing some side effects. Stronger than I've felt for many years; maybe because I haven't had such a long period of depression for many years. I feel quite peculiar.

It's not quite as straightforward as short-term memory loss. Though it certainly includes that. But it's an absence of brain function in a less linear sense that I can't define.

For example, yesterday I told a teenage neighbour that she was walking the wrong way to her school (she wasn't, and even if I thought she was why on earth didn't I keep my gob shut?). I also wished my best friend happy birthday when it wasn't, and almost forgot the way to Logie's nursery, a route I drive four times a week.

I feel like I'm in a dream, or have pulled an all-nighter. Everything is disjointed and bizarre.  Of course, matters are slightly complicated by the fact that I am actually rather sleep deprived, so who knows what feeling I should be attributing to what cause.

Not my regular shrink, that's for sure. Yesterday he did his most blatant display ever of repeating back things I've literally just told him, but presenting them as conclusions of his own. It's quite a breathtaking habit, that leaves me looking round the room to see if anybody else witnessed it. Or maybe I am indeed mad.


Saturday 16 March 2013

Unexpected developments

Several things that I didn't see coming appear to be happening:

1) I have lost my appetite. This doesn't happen to me. Ever. Obviously it hasn't stopped me eating any of the things I usually find myself aimlessly putting in my mouth.

But two people have commented today on my lack of jelly belly, given that I am only a month post-partum. And I am definitely not as fat as I was immediately after I had Logie. Let's get this in perspective - I'm still a size sixteen. But losing weight without trying is not something I do. If it wasn't so bemusing, I'd punch the air.

2) I still can't stop thinking about having another baby. Perhaps this is a hormonal thing that every woman goes through after they've had the last of their planned children - a sort of rite of passage. That irresistible urge to have one more tequila shot before you leave your office Christmas party at Lucky Voice. The reconsidering of how much sleep you truly need before you have to be back at your desk, bright and early. What harm does it do to move the taxi back by an hour, or procreate one more human? In for a penny, in for a pound.

It must be partly the girl thing still. But I wonder if it's more than that, because I am flooded with thoughts like 'You like children, you're good at children, of course you want three' and 'It shouldn't only be determined by how much money you have'. Oh, and 'Why the f*ck are you dwelling on this when Felix is only 4 weeks old?'

3) Logie's poo in the bath the other day. Didn't see that coming - or even see it at all, thankfully, as Jon was bathing him that evening.

4) Suddenly, viciously, grey hairs are appearing on my head. One of the (few) great things about being ginger, I'd always believed, was that you didn't get them. You went silver or white instead of grey, but for quite a long time it actually looked like you were just getting subtly blonder. This turns out to be bullshit.

Unfortunately what is true is that ginger people have the least number of hairs on their heads, which makes it even worse that it takes me two or three goes of pulling out the surrounding hairs before finally snagging the offending grey.

To balance this all out, here are some things that I did see coming, and are indeed happening:

1) I am rather tired. So is Jon. Sometimes I get that familiar feeling upon lying down, when your body is aching all over with exhaustion and crying out to be supported along its length horizontally in a soft bed, when even though that is exactly what is happening and it's just what you need...it's somehow not enough. You need to be lying down MORE. 

You drink in the sensation it provides to your weary limbs like it were ice-cold water on a parched throat. Yes, yes, it's lovely to be lying down at last but GOD it finally makes you realise how blisteringly tired you really are. Could the volume of the bed feeling somehow be turned up?

2) All the lovely kind people who have bought Lix something to wear have gone for size 3-6 months.

3) ECT is finally starting to work. I'm not there yet, and I think that my ability to function is returning before mood, but I definitely felt lighter after the last one. What a relief - I was just beginning to worry that for some reason I'd become resistant to it.

I'm trying not to think too hard about my mental state though, because I'm fed up with trying to assess it. I also don't want to let in a chink of light that makes me feel angry about how I've been robbed of properly enjoying the first month of our baby. So I'll write up the ECT desription once I'm sure I'm better, and it's over (this time). But now I have to go and be milked like a cow. And go to blessed sleep.


Tuesday 5 March 2013

Diarrhoea and weight gain

I know I've had a baby recently because of my hands. They are red and dry from repeated washing.

I know he is doing well, because he has put on 180g in the last week, and needs only 20g more to get back to his birthweight.

I know I am rather fond of him, because I feel a strong urge to have another baby RIGHT NOW. This is surely to do with my hormones, and the fact that he's still nice and sleepy most of the time. This is not a feeling that will last. Right?

I know that Logie is put out by all this, because although he is perfectly civil to Lix in person he refuses point blank to do anything normal, and even cried when we left him at nursery this morning. Very out of character. 

However, I don't know if the first two sessions of ECT have done the trick yet. I suppose this means they haven't, as I usually feel the change all over my body when it happens. Last time it took only two sessions - in previous years it's taken more.

Part of the problem is that I've had a terribly upset stomach since Sunday night, and nausea alongside it, so I feel pretty ropey in general. It's quite hard to assess your mental state when you feel sick, and keep dashing to the loo. So I'm going to have another treatment on Friday.

Luckily, no one else in our household has got this stomach bug. Felix can't have it if he's putting on weight. Logie I think is cutting a molar, but that's not related. Jon is having the stitches out of his finger tomorrow, but that's definitely not related. That's just my family doing their bit to provide material for you.

Ocado is late. Baby announcement cards cost a fortune. DEAR GOD, I AM BORING, AND MIDDLE CLASS, AND UNGRATEFUL. Clearly my brain is not working. I don't have anything funny to say.

If you want to know more about ECT - sticking the electrodes on my head, what the anaesthetic feels like, how many students come to gawp at you - then post a comment, and I'll write it up after Friday. I need a bit of motivation. I don't feel very coherent.

Here are some pictures, because nothing else in this will have raised a smile. Logie on Jon's shoulders after seeing Ben & Holly at the theatre on Sunday morning, and Lix having his first slide on Sunday afternoon. I am very lucky to have these boys in my life.