Good Riddance, March

I don’t like wishing away an entire month, much the same as I don’t like wishing away the week just to get to the weekend. It seems like a waste. However, I’m making an exception for March 2015. It was hell and a significant test of how far I’ve come mentally, in that I didn’t entirely fall apart (although did a little bit).

It started the end of February with one very important week. At the start of that week, somewhat bizarrely, a motorcyclist took a corner near our house too fast, skidded a fair way along the pavement, and came to rest outside our house. It was about a foot away from our car (the six month old car that had previously been hit while parked in the same place back in January) and the guy had been lucky enough to negotiate his way between a big brick wall and parked cars.

Somehow, despite hearing some odd noises outside, my Mum and I didn’t bother to check what was going on. We were embroiled in an episode of The West Wing (end of Season 1 if you know it – a big deal!) and didn’t find out until one of us went to the front of the house to do something before bed and realised there was a motorbike outside, along with two ambulances and a police car. Oops.

Anyhow, the motorcyclist was ok although did get taken away in the ambulance. The point of me writing about this is that I saw the ambulances and immediately thought of when my Dad was dying and the road was similarly blocked with an ambulance and rapid response vehicle. I looked out at it and thought ‘Hey, I’m doing good. This isn’t affecting me like it used to’. Then, after my Mum went to bed, I went to switch all the lights out. Turns out when the lighting is just right, it all comes back to me and I feel an overwhelming wave of adrenaline and other bad stuff. Oops.

That messed up my sleep for a few days, just when I needed to be on form. The week was set to get worse.

My Mum had some invasive tests that Thursday. The options felt like they were coming down to either the ominous C word or nothing. Due to how things worked, I had to spend the morning wasting time before picking her up from the hospital, rather than wait with her. It was an oddly nice morning. At one point, I was sitting in a Starbucks, drinking hot chocolate, while watching a favourite episode of The West Wing. It felt like the calm before the storm. Knowing in the back of my head that life could get a hell of a lot harder.

Things took much longer than they were meant to. She was meant to be done by about 12.30pm but when I got there, the nurse said there was a delay and that she’d phone me when my Mum was ready. I went to visit a good friend for a bit then. It was just what I needed. They phoned again while I was there, saying there was another delay.

Anyway, I picked her up about 3pm. I was told to expect her to be groggy due to the sedative but she was surprisingly alert. Turns out that she had a serious allergic reaction to the sedative. To the point that the procedure turned into an episode of ER with people rushing around, trying to raise her blood pressure which had plummeted to dangerous levels, all while she couldn’t stop being sick. Oops.

How dangerous things had nearly turned has festered with me a bit since. Just a bit.

It took a lot out of her but she’s getting better now, a month after the procedure. I say better. She’s gone back to the chronically ill phase that she was in before, which sucks. A lot. Turns out she’s almost certainly got some other chronic disease too, which is potentially genetic (uh oh), but we shall see.

Oh, and I haven’t mentioned the midnight trip to the local A&E department that weekend because she had some complications.

Or the other major stress in my life that I’m keeping kind of vague about, but all hit around then too.

Yeah, I’m exhausted. I hit a big low that following week, the kind of low where I’d cry silently to myself either in bed or when sitting at traffic lights before going grocery shopping. Not for long or anything, but long enough to be fairly drained. I really, really wanted someone to come along, hug me, and tell me that it’d all be ok, even though life doesn’t work like that.

Anyhow, I’m back on the up now. At last. I’m sleeping well and I’m fine for taking on the world again, even if I am a little cautious of the future still. Inner strength has kicked in again and all that, and I’m back where I was before this horrible month, which is a very good thing.

I’m starting April with a day off from everything, spending it with friends, and no doubt having a great time. Seems like an excellent way to start a new month to me.