Being a girl sucks

It sucks balls that in the weeks leading up to my period my face erupts and no matter how many products I use to clean it and take care of it, I feel like a teenager with a pizza face.

And then the day I start bleeding – so feeling like shit – my face magically clears up and I barely have to wear any makeup.

I’m fucking 30 years old, I am too old to be dealing with this crap.

An Unexpected Turnaround

So when I lost my job in March, my dad said it was a great opportunity to go and get training/education in something I wanted to do. I could change careers if I wanted. This is because I expressed an interest in palaeontology  after he recommended a documentary to me.

I’d love to be a pataeontologist except I really don’t want to move from where I live and there is absolutely zero zilch work going here, even with its rich colonial history.

Another option was astrobiology. I’m a  bit of an exoplanet nut. I’m fascinated by the possibility of life on other planets. I even took one of those massive online courses in astrobiology a couple of years ago. But again, not much work going where I live.

In fact, there is much work going for anything where I live. When I got serious about going back to school after this three month contract ends, I was leaning towards Human Resources. Now my mother, who thinks she’s the boss of me, says she knows 3 HR people who have been made redundant. It’s not that feasible a career anymore. An option a lot of our friends are going for is teaching, but I hate the idea of being a teacher. I hate dealing with little shit kids and their equally shitty parents. But my mother says she doesn’t want me to go into teaching either.

So I’m a little lost. Mother says I should do a business degree, but I said I don’t want to do a degree in something when I have 12 years of experience in business and know everything already. Then she recommended maybe just a management course so I can get out of admin and start moving upwards.

I still don’t know what I’m going to do, except apply for the 12 months contract of the job I’m currently in, even though that means I don’t get any sick leave or maternity leave and have to put off having a baby for even longer.

Meanwhile my husband’s legs are looking smaller, which scares me, and he’s been cut off from his rehab and has to go find a new place to take him. I’m trying hard not to feel guilty about only working 2 days a week. It’s not working so far, but hopefully I’ll get there soon. It does give me the extra time I need to do my hobbies aka write, make Lego, do puzzles play video games.

Just give me time. I’ll get there.

Here’s Hoping The Light At The End of the Tunnel Isn’t A Train

So I have a tiny bit of good news.

After losing my job last month just after I moved house and my rent went up, I’ve found a job through a temp agency.

It’s two days a week which is good enough because my husband is still getting worker’s compensation on his full wage for the accident he suffered at work that put him in a wheelchair, probably for life.

It’s also good that it’s only two days a week because that means I can still care for him and take him to all of his doctor’s appointment, physio appointments, and basically run around after him and care for him as I’ve been doing pretty much full-time since I lost my job.

It’s also good that it’s only two days a week because I applied for some government benefits and if I work more than 25 hours a week I won’t get anything.

I’m a government scrounger again, haven’t done that for five years.

It’s also only a 3 month contract which times almost perfectly with my very tentative plan to go back to school and get a diploma in Human Resources. School starts in late July, I think, so it fits pretty well. It depends on if my husband is back at work by then and what’s going on. To be honest I can’t really imagine life not working 9-5.30, five days a week. I think I’m still adjusting.

Wish me well, I start work in a couple of weeks!

From Crappy To Downright Shithouse

So my husband’s permanently disabled from a freak workplace accident.

We had to move to a house with a more expensive rent that was better equipped for him.

The day after moving I went into work and was made redundant.

I’ll just be here curled into a ball waiting for the next piece of shit life flings at me.

He’s Home

He got out of hospital last week, very suddenly, on a Friday.

We spent four days in bed together watching Harry Potter movies.

Now I need to pack up and move an entire house without his help because he can’t lift anything heavy or carry anything.

This isn’t the life I signed up for.

It’s Official

When my husband gets out of hospital, he’s going to be in a wheelchair.

He’s been there for eight weeks so far. That’s two months of the year.

And it’s not like he NEEDS to be there. He could come home if we had the equipment ready for him.

But because of an administration fuck up where they needed him to sign something and held on to it for three or four weeks, now he’s taking up bed space while we wait for the equipment to come from all over the world.

It could have been here weeks ago if the admin hadn’t fucked up.

Part of me is a little upset by my husband now being confined to a wheelchair. I did promise to love him in sickness and in health, right? But I married a strong seven foot tall guy, not someone who was disabled.

And now I have to deal with it.

I just feel like ever since we got married the priority’s been on him.

His mental health.

Now his physical disability.

It’s just bugging me that I never got the life I wanted.

I need a holiday

I desperately need a holiday.

Almost all of my leave, since 2015, has been spent caring for HIM.

Where’s my care? Where’s my work-free days lounging around doing nothing but reading?

It’s the seventh week he’s been in hospital and my house is still a mess.

Help me.

Don’t Let The Guilt In

Today my beloved husband has been in hospital unable to walk since a workplace accident where he twisted his back and prolapsed a disc for three weeks now.

Understandably he’s having a rough time.

Luckily a social worker popped in today with the physiotherapist and offered grief counselling and also an advocate for disability.

I asked a nurse if my husband could be given one of his sleeping tablets tonight as he’s just exhausted and not sleeping well and obviously can’t heal properly if he’s not rested.

So that’s great.

He’s got a LOT of support.

Meanwhile, all my friends and family are reminding me that I need to look after myself.

The problem is that I’ve kind of forgotten how to.

How do you put oneself first when your husband is 100% dependent on you and has no other family in the country?

He’s dependent on me for company, to wash his clothes, to bring in anything he needs to the hospital.

Over the weekend I had to use up a gift voucher before it expired and I got a manicure.

It took about an hour.

I was trying this whole ‘put yourself first, look after yourself, take time for yourself’ thing everyone keeps telling me to do.

But now I feel guilty because my husband was stuck in hospital bored and scared shitless and uncomfortable and did I mention bored? while I was out getting nice fingernails.

How do you find the balance between caring for someone when all I do is work, go to the hospital, or go home to sleep? I haven’t cleaned my house in a week. I’m exhausted, too. I’m having bad dreams or not sleeping well at all because he’s away from me. I have to do his chores as well as my chores and also clean the enormous fucking mess he left in my house before he went into hospital.

On the weekends I just want to curl up in bed and watch Pokemon nonstop until I cry myself to sleep.

Marriage is hard, yo.

Could This Year Get Any Worse?

Two days ago I had to call the ambulance services because my husband woke up screaming in terror because he couldn’t feel or move his legs.

A few days before he had injured his back overextending, reaching and twisting while replacing a bookshelf at work.

Turns out that actions caused a slipped disc and shattered part of his vertebrae.

For a seven foot tall man, he’s got a very long but very thin, narrow spine, like a child’s, the neurosurgeon said.

Two days after the injury I took him to the doctor for pain relief but we didn’t realise it was so serious. The doc made sure I understood that if it got worse, to get him to the hospital. It was Sunday morning when he woke up and I had to call triple zero.

So one ambulance showed up and appraised him and it turned out because he couldn’t walk, they couldn’t get him on their stretcher and into their ambulance.

So they called another ambulance, a SPECIAL OPERATIONS one.

Then they had to get him into it.

He’s a big guy. He managed to crawl with no feeling in his legs to the kitchen, then the four ambos working together made a sort of slippery slide out of plastic sheeting and got him to lie down on a hoverboard filled with air and dragged him to the ambulance.

Still unable to use his legs, they tipped him onto a hoverjack and filled it with air, lifting him about 4 feet off the ground, then he rolled onto the stretcher, which they then loaded into the ambulance.

My husband woke up at 6.15am screaming in terror and we took off for the hospital at about 7.45am.

So the ambulance took him to accident and emergency.

One young female doctor looked at him and appraised his legs, then her boss the senior doctor came over and did the same thing. He said he was really worried and wanted to get a CT scan right away, but the CT machine wasn’t big enough for my husband. So he spent the morning ringing every city in Australia to see if thy would take him. The only problem was if the CT machine was too small (did I mention my husband’s shoulders are literally the width of a door?) then the flying doctors couldn’t get him on board, so he was also hunting for a military aircraft to fly him to the right hospital.

Then the neurosurgeons finally got out of theatre and came to see him and explained the damage could be PERMANENT which FUCKING TERRIFIED ME. And they didn’t want to wait possibly weeks for a military aircraft so there was a team of staff working on making the CT scan machine accessible.

Then they decided they would try an X ray.

I’d been at the hospital since 8am and it was now 2pm.

I had to go home to shower and accept a grocery delivery.

My mum, whom I have complained about A LOT, was a complete fucking angel and was with me all day, and stayed with my husband as they took him away for an x ray at 2pm.

The x ray didn’t show them clearly what they wanted to see. They were sure they knew which discs and where on the spin to operate but the x ray had to show them where it was. So the surgery was going to be half exploratory.

They took him away at 3.30pm right as I was telling the grocery delivery guy my problem and he told me his dad had the same operation and had a full recovery.

So then my mum came to my house and took me home to hers and we rang the hospital every hour on the hour to find out if he was out of surgery.

Finally at 9.30pm I asked my mum to take me home because I needed access to my car in the morning to go to the hospital.

At 10pm I called for the last time and the lady on the switchboard took pity on me because his status had been ‘in theatre’ for so long, so she put me through to recovery-



and had been there for about an hour and a half fml.

Still no feeling or movement in the lower part of his legs but at least the pain was gone.

He’s still in hospital now and might be for Christmas

did I mention fuck my life?

but he is getting better every day.

Seriously, fuck 2016.