I have been spending waaaaay too much time hunting for little  nappy icons. I can’t help myself, this is my fourth hunt and once you start it’s very easy to become hooked.

I am neglecting all of my other duties. My children are getting around unwashed and unfed (well, not quite but it’s just lucky I have Beefcake). I have sore swollen hands from click, click, clicking my mouse looking for that tiny nappy. It is not compatible with arthritis.

Speaking of arthritis, I had my Rheum appointment. As I suspected would be the case, my x-rays showed a normal pelvis. Okay, not normal exactly but there were no signs of arthritic change. You can see marked asymmetrical separation of the pelvic bones, which I suppose is a validation of sorts but it didn’t stop me from bursting into tears. If there is nothing concrete to treat then my problem remains untreatable, you see. I feel desperately low at the thought of having to go on like this indefinitely. I feel very lucky that my Rheum takes my pain very seriously.

The plan of action is as follows:

• Stay on arthritis drug that hasn’t yet worked as it still may start to have an effect.
• Have an MRI to have a better look at my pelvis.
• Have steroid injections into the joints of my pelvis – this should (in theory) really help.
• Start a new and very toxic (actually used for chemotherapy) drug to see if that also helps.

It feels good to have a plan in place but I am also a bit sad. The new drug is most definitely not compatible with breastfeeding. I have allocated two weeks to wean Grub before I start taking it. She is doing ok. She is at two feeds a day and so far I have been able to put her off when she asks for other feeds. I am trying to drop the first thing in the morning feed but I have to admit that I am struggling. I keep looking into her sweet face and thinking there are so very few feeds left. I don’t want to tell her no. I know it’s best to gradually wean over these two weeks but I actually feel like I want to fit in as many feeds as possible before it comes to an end. That must sound so silly but she is my last baby and…… I will miss it.

Well, because I am now bawling I think that’s all I have to say.

There are still nappies to find.

I have so many posts in drafts it’s beyond a joke. I start and then don’t get around to finishing and I then I just decide to start again because I am not in that space any more and it feels false or something. Glad of the glimpse into my inner workings? I thought you would be.

On the weekend, Beefcake and my brother-in-law helped my Mum move into her new house. She is still guided by the habits of the last few decades. Sometimes she’ll say something or rather that she’s planning to do something and we all have to explain to her why that’s not a good idea and it would be just as easy to take option b, which will break these patterns and spare her all sorts of stress. She’s made a lot of progress though and having her in her own house is such a big step, we are all very relieved.

I’m not really comfortable calling my father by name or calling him my father, really, so from now on I will refer to him as B.

B has been re-detained in hospital under another 21 day order. He will be in hospital now until the middle of March and he may well be detained again. I suspect that they will have trouble getting any medication to work for him now, he has been heading in that direction for many years (in my opinion). Despite being very heavily medicated he was becoming more and more unstable, with each passing month.

The restraining order becomes final on Wednesday. My mother told me with a heartbreaking smile that it is their 37th wedding anniversary. There is no correct way to respond to that.

My nightmares and insomnia have worsened but I have recently read that this may be a side-effect of the arthritis medication I am taking. I see the Rheum on Wednesday and unfortunately, after three months, I have seen no improvement. In fact, my arthritis is worsening, with new joints now affected.

I’m very disappointed. I have decided that if the Rheum says the other drug options are not compatible with breastfeeding then I will wean Grub. She is 20 months old and I wanted to get to 2 years but my pain is so bad that I feel a little bit trapped. I am sad but I’m sure she’d rather have a functional Mummy than boob…….Ummmm, maybe not, but that’s what she’s getting.

I had an excellent GP visit last week. Not my usual GP, but one I’ve taken the kids to before and he was so sympathetic to my need to keep getting pain med prescriptions that he gave me the mother of all authorities (means I can get large amounts of pain med very cheaply on the pharmaceutical benefits scheme). The size of the script is almost comical but we discussed the next step up for pain management and let’s just say I hope I don’t ever have to go there. It is a relief I won’t have to worry about it running out. Usually when it does I tell Beefcake that I am going to try and go without for a while. I get more and more grumpy and eventually give in and go to the GP.

This time he rang and made an appointment for me before that could happen.

He’s learning.

I’m struggling to find blogging inspiration lately. Actually, no that’s not true. I have things that I could blog about, things that I probably should get out of my system – and have, in a few not really publishable posts, in my drafts folder. I want to be able to blog about the kids and about things we are doing, about nice happy things, but I just can’t muster up the emotional energy to do that. It feels as though that effort might just break me. And I can’t post about the other things. I guess I think that I have exceeded my quota of grim and whiny posts lately. I can’t subject anyone to more of my whinging.

So, I can’t write anything nice, I can’t write what’s on my mind, therefore I can’t write anything at all.

This is my blog, though, isn’t it?

Consider yourselves warned.

It is exhausting having to put on the cheerful, functional act for people in the real world. I can’t say to most people – Yes, I am in pain. Yes, still. No, I’m not any better. No, those 43 helpful suggestions of things I might like to try to make-myself-better-and-why-aren’t-I-doing-them-already are not any more helpful or useful than the last time you made them to me. There is no simple thing that just hadn’t occurred to me before that will suddenly make it all better.

It’s just so very much easier to say, “I am fine, pelvis is fine thanks”.

So, in case you were wondering, pelvis is not fine. I am not fine. But what do you do? You can’t get a replacement body.

I had pelvis x-rays the other day. I am convinced that they will show a normal, happy pelvis. Pelvis knows how to turn it on for the doctors. The rheum will tell me that my pain is in my head and I will be back in the land of no-one gives a shit.

Gee, I’m an upbeat little thing, aren’t I?

*****************

He gets out on Monday. His detention is coming to an end, our piece of mind with it. He appealed his detention, subjecting us all to more stress but thank goodness it was upheld. He has been on his best behaviour though (we think, no way of knowing for sure) because he has been transferred back to local, not so secure public hospital ward.

The police screwed up the restraining order. A typo means it started and ended on the exact same date. It went back through the magistrates court to correct that today but the paperwork Mum received still shows the typo. The police can’t serve him with the typo in place. Did I mention he gets out on Monday?

We are hoping that the court mistakenly faxed her the old, unaltered one and he will be served tomorrow. I am not that hopeful.

If it doesn’t happen before he gets out then we will have to convince her to hide somewhere.

***********

As my more astute readers will have surmised, Beefcake is, um, beefy. He’s been that way since shortly after we met. I like to joke that once he’d snagged me he just let it all go. It’s kind of true. So. I was whining to him about it tonight. I’m not annoyed about his huskyness so much as the vast sums of money we’ve sunk into his weight loss in recent times only to have him turn around, sit down and gain it all back again.

He takes my annoyance (mostly) good naturedly as he knows it’s just the general background drone of whining I like to produce to accompany our lives. Tonight though, he came up with a phrase that I felt was so genius, I had to share.

Apparently all of this losing and gaining has been of benifit to him after all as he is working towards “adjusting his fat paradigm”. His father subjected him to many a self-help tape as a child and it has obviously had an effect. Imagine trying to have a serious whinge to someone who is adjusting their fat paradigm. Ain’t gonna happen.

At least he makes me laugh.

Update: The magistrate’s court did indeed put it through complete with typo AGAIN! Seriously.

So, um, it occurs to me that with the Christmas/New year business I forgot to tell everyone about my appointment with the Rheumatologist, I’m sure that you’re all hanging on the edge of your seat to hear about it. No? Tough luck.

Originally I couldn’t get an appointment with the specialist until March. March, I thought in November when it was becoming clear that my hands and other joints were only getting worse (don’t even mention the pelvis, just don’t), was not good. Straight away I asked to be placed on the waiting list for cancellations and miracle of  miracles on about the 18th of December I got a call to say that they could fit me in on the 23rd if I could make it. Um, hell yes!

The rhematologist was actually really sweet. She listened to what I had to say about my falling apart body. She took what I had to say seriously. She examined me thoroughly. She wasn’t surprised or indeed horrified when I said that I was still breastfeeding my toddler (as doctors seem to love being). All in all, it went well.

Numerous outcomes of that appointment were:

• I am very, very flexible. Not quite as freakishly flexible as some people but apparently the resting position of my feet when I am lying down is not right. They flop down or something, who knew.
• Multiple other joints and bits and bobs do things that they are not meant for. Things I didn’t realise they did, or at  least that what they did was wrong, until she asked me to show her.
• That flexibility is kind of on a continuum, my level is not quite at the extreme end where connective tissue disorders reside but not really okay either and certainly contributing to some problems.
• I have some sort of non-specific inflammatory arthritis in my hands. When she first saw them she inhaled sharply and said “oooooo”, which I took to mean that it wasn’t just me who thought they look a little strange.
• She’s not sure about my pelvis. She thinks that, although she’d like to unify my problems under one diagnosis, there may be several things wrong with me that are not really related. Awesome.
• She took my pain seriously and has placed me on two new medications to be taken every day, to reduce inflammation and pain etc.
• She wants fresh pelvis x-rays and blood tests. No other doctor has ever wanted pelvis x-rays, I only had some done because a friend of mine is a doctor and she wanted to make sure I wasn’t dying of bone cancer while we were visiting her in Spain. This is a pretty big deal. She actually gives a crap about investigating my pelvis.
• The original blood test results weren’t normal. Something or other was elevated, which it would be in arthritis, hence the new blood tests to see if it is worse.

I left feeling really optimistic. She’s not 100% sure that she can do anything for my pelvis but she feels she can do something for my hands and, you know, she is trying to help me, she listened, she heard.

So, for the moment I am holding my breath and managing my pelvis pain and taking my pills until I next see her in March and even though the state of play is pretty much the same. I feel better. I do.

First of all, thank you so much everyone. Your lovely words made me feel so much better. That is the wonderful thing about this whole blogging community. People are just overwhelmingly supportive and kind and lovely. I feel very lucky to have such special friends reading my blog.

My face is very much improved. There are just a few faint red marks now, which is so hard to believe. You would never know that last Thursday morning I awoke to huge open weeping sores that looked as though they would never heal. At that point I couldn’t imagine getting away without scars but it seems that they will heal completely (Dr Google said that they would but they seriously looked so heinous that I just couldn’t believe it).

So, work preparation.

I knew that there would be a good deal of work involved in regaining my professional accreditation as it has been four-and-a-half years since I last worked. The standard for my profession states that I need to have worked at least 1000 hours in the past five years, which I might have had if I had initiated this process earlier but now do not. Also, as I only worked very briefly (about 6 months) before Pudding was giving my body such a thrashing that I was put on bed rest, it is unclear whether they will view my application as that of a new graduate (which actually means I had only three years for my qualification to remain current before I would need to do a lot of work to get it back). Complicated enough for you?

Anyway. I received the packet from the association yesterday containing all of the relevant forms. All that remains is for me to gather my “evidence” of skill and write a cv. This sounds much simpler than it is. The evidence part is a complete nightmare. They want a whole bunch of actual documents and things that I did when I was working and they each must be numbered and assigned to a relevant skill area. There are 70 skill areas for me to address. Luckily there is some overlap between skill areas and I can use the same piece of evidence for multiple areas. I also am not expected to have demonstrated competence in each area. I am able to use “inferred” competence in some areas. All in all though, it will be about as straight forward as bombing our house and then trying to glue the pieces back together with my own snot. I am tempted to just say to hell with it and apply to begin my degree again. Four more years at uni seem almost preferable to this process but I already have a massive HECS* debt so that rules that out.

No, truth be told I am actually really positive and optimistic about how this will go. I can put aside that the association woman responsible for re-entry was almost obstructive to my getting the process underway, which is odd as they charge a fortune for it. I am fortunate to have at least one very special uni friend who has been sending me lovely bolstering emails and has promised to go over my paperwork with a fine-tooth comb. She even threatened to come and pour wine down my throat if necessary so I think I am in good hands.

I have been very proactive. I have emailed my last boss because I need her help. When I left I was a bit consumed with dodgy pelvisness and just getting the loose ends tied up. It never occurred to me that I should be safe-guarding my future career prospects by keeping examples of all my work. I have emailed her and begged to be allowed to come to the office to photocopy some of my stuff. This sounds simple but again is fraught with difficulty that I can’t really discuss here without giving too much away. Suffice it to say that there is a good chance that she will say no and if she does she will be perfectly correct in doing so and I shall have no recourse but to submit my portfolio with evidence such as “See, I was working in this place then and they do this so I must have done it, so that makes me competent. The end.”. I’m sure that will be sufficient. Yes?

Okay.  What was the point I was driving for? Ah yes. I will be busy, I have actually got several blog posts planned and half written but I fear that the blog will remain quiet while I get all of this taken care of. 2010 submissions opened today and I really want it done as soon as humanly possible so I must focus.

Of course, now that I have said that you know what it means, don’t you? I will be on here blogging every day just to procrastinate. You must all promise to beat me soundly (in a non-bruising, internet based and loving sort of a way) should I try and weasle my way out of working. Agreed?

Good. I will hold you to it.

P.S. New iphone comes tomorrow (hopefully), yay, yay, yay!!

*Government student loan program – it gets deferred until you are working and then they take it automatically out of your pay with tax. It’s the debt you have when you’re not having a debt because you can almost forget it’s there, especially if you don’t actually earn any money to pay it back.

• We sold the high chair and the pram on Ebay. We didn’t get enough for the pram for me to feel that it was worth giving up what seems to be the essential symbol of babyhood*. I sobbed all day on Tuesday when it was being collected. Mostly because there will be no more babies. Partly because this means Grub really is a big girl now. A toddler and not a baby. I asked Beefcake if I could buy it back. It was a bit pathetic.
• I am having a little problem with chocolate licorice bullets at the moment. I always like them but at the moment I am unable to stop at just a few. I eat the whole bag, I have left them in the kitchen in the hope that having to get up to get more will reduce my intake. It is not working. I am a hopeless, hopeless addict.
• My sister Patchouli! has admitted to me that she has started her own blog. This is fine except that since she has known about my blog she has mocked me mercilessly and relentlessly. She has never read this blog, she just knows about it. She expects similar restraint from me, which of course I will provide. I really wish I didn’t have to though. I am dying to look. I have almost considered telling someone else about it so that they can look for me and tell me about it. Naturally I won’t but still, tempting.
• Beefcake reads this blog,which is sometimes handy if I am looking to send him some sort of coded message. So here it is: Go and get a vasectomy (In case you were wondering that’s code for “Go and get a vasectomy”).
• Beefcake has brought me the bag of bullets now. They are not long for this world.
• It is sooooo hot here I think I might melt. We have no air conditioner. We have borrowed a small portable one but our current finances do not extend to buying a new one. We’ll have to organise something in the next few days though because it’s getting dire.
• It’s pageant on Saturday. You may remember my posts from last year. I am sure that this year’s pageant will provide just as much fabulous blog fodder. Last year though it was drizzling and chilly enough that Grub had to wear a beanie. The predicted top for Saturday is 39°C. It will be quite a different day. I shall have to find a vantage point in the shade so that I am not overwhelmed by the heat. Also we are walking there as we can’t really justify taking the car and parking. It’s maybe a twenty minute walk across the parklands at most. Heat makes me lazy. I don’t really want to.
• I am addicted to scrabble on my iphone. I have at least ten games going at any one time. It is a deadly time waster as there is a chat function too so I play and chat to Patchouli! all the time.
• My coriander plant died because I forgot to cover it with some shade. It was less mature than my other herbs which are still hanging in there. Bum.
• Rhubarb has a frightening Fbook habit. I have had to get on there once already to remove some chat that offended his Aunt and Uncle. He couldn’t see the problem. The thing is, he gets 90 minutes a day total computer time. He has been sneaking time at school. Not pleased. He is becoming such a teenager. It’s scary.
• I’m thinking of doing my requalification and going back to work a couple of days a week. I have to jump through a few hoops to be able to practise again as it has been four-and-a-half years since I worked but the money is needed. Beefcake would be able to look after the kids because he works from home. On those days he would just mostly work in the evening, which is fine. He is not overly keen, worrying that I will not manage with the pelvis and things but I think it will be fine. Worth thinking about, I guess.

*This is strange because all of my children but particularly Grub were carried in a sling all the time until near their first birthday.
Grub only used that pram about two dozen times really. Still. *sniff*

Nothing.

Some minor things like my vitamin D levels are quite low (spend much time inside immobilised by pain do you?) and my cholesterol levels are marginally high but not actually high apparently.

So nothing.

Nothing at all.

Doctor is convinced there is something the matter with me. As she put it “There’s just too many joints and things that are problematic”. I agree. There must be something.

I have a referral to a rheumatologist. The doctor assures me that there are many more in-depth tests that the rheumatologist will do.

I am not surprised really. I had a feeling that nothing would turn up. I also feel that there is a good chance that the specialist will not find anything and I will be back to square one, in pain and told to “just deal with it”.

I know these are useless, rubbish thoughts. I must pick myself up and go forth to be prodded and drained of my vital fluids with great enthusiasm and an optimistic twinkle in my eye.

Truthfully I am hoping that in the months that it will take to get a specialist appointment I will improve greatly. Beefcake has now decided that I should wean Grub. He is convinced her continued feeding is taking an unreasonable toll on my body. I won’t even consider it until she gets to eighteen, no twenty, months. I would prefer weaning to occur more naturally but if we get to twenty months I will consider it if I am no better. Of course I expect I will all better by then.

I have the flu. I have had a fever for three days. I feel leaden and snot-filled, My throat feels as though I have swallowed a cheese grater. It is making me feel decidedly up-beat. Can you tell?

Beefcake has a job interview tomorrow. Wish him luck.