iRelle

Isn’t it strange how the first post after a gap in blogging is always about the lack of explanation for the gap? This is one of those posts. I’ve been putting off blogging for weeks now… I’ve had the ideas, the photos, the time… but somehow, no energy or inclination to post any of it. I’ve been thinking “Maybe it’s just an off-phase, maybe I’m lacking in conviction, maybe life just got boring.” But then I started thinking the only thing wrong with me is downright, true-blue laziness, and all I have to do is make my mind think a little harder to achieve so much more. I’ve reached the conclusion that I shouldn’t try so hard, but just post when something especially inspiring or interesting occurs to me – goodness knows that my blogs used to be much more substantial and worth reading when I subscribed to that philosophy! So here’s what you can expect to see on iRelle in the next few months: fewer posts (yet more than there have been recently), more variety (hopefully – photos and drawings are all good and well, but I do have other things in my life, really I do!) and more interesting reading matter!

The other matter I should bring you all up to speed on is the latest medical emergency in our life at the moment. Sheesh, do they never end? Earlier in the week, while I was up at Ringarooma having a blast painting the girls’ bedroom, Dad was at home complaining of all kinds of weird symptoms, like a racing heart, dizziness, nausea and stomach pain. Finally, yesterday morning, it got so bad that Mum took the initiative to ring for an ambulance (by far the best way to get attention at A&E in Launnie) and Dad was carted off to hospital. A squillion tests and blood samples later, they found that his haemoglobin levels had dropped by half since his routine tests three days earlier, indicating quite a lot of blood loss. The short version is, the gastroenterology team did a gastroscopy (all these big words I’m learning!) and found the cause of the bleeding was an ulcer in his stomach. The main problem is that the ulcer is on top of a tumour. It’s too early for them to tell at this stage, but the doctor (who also was Mum’s doctor for her breast cancer treatment – one of the most amazing doctors ever) is fairly certain that it’s benign. We’re repeating that as fast as we can, in the hopes that we’ll believe it.

So Dad’s been flown off to Hobart Private Hospital, where I’m sure he’s making himself popular with all the nurses through well-timed wise cracks. The ‘stomach surgeon’ is based there, although he’s on holidays until Tuesday. He’ll be on hand if there’s any more bleeding or emergencies, but it doesn’t look like Dad will be having an operation until Wednesday, otherwise. Mum is going down tomorrow afternoon to stay with friends and be on hand, and I’m hanging around here to look after my poor mistreated cat who’s been put out on these frosty nights while I’ve been at Ringarooma. Mum’s trying valiantly to be brave, and it only crumbles when she thinks of the repercussions if the tumour is malignant and Dad has to go through chemo and all the rest of the process – she’s been through it all, and she doesn’t want it for him. I’m very much looking forward to having the house to myself for a few days and getting in some serious me-time!

That’s my life – you’re up to date.

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