I know exactly two things, about my Dad's time during WW2; How he learned to swim, and a staring match with a Tiger in the jungle, which he won i'm glad to say, or i wouldn't be telling you about it in this blog.
I remember one day, at the age of ten, being sat in the kitchen after a particularly rotten day at school. Tears rolling down my face because yet another sporting activity was beyond me and as usual, the kids in my class made my life a misery for it. My Dad sat down and on one of those rare occasions he chatted with me he asked what was wrong. "I can't swim" i howled, "and the other kids are picking on me for being scared of the water". He smiled at me, and told me how as a soldier in the Army he was taught to swim. He was on his way with his unit to Burma, by ship and on one particularly hot day, his fellow soldiers were in the water swimming to cool down, His Sergeant saw that my dad was still on deck, watching his colleagues. I imagine the conversation went a little like this-:
Sarge-"Wells! why aren't you in the water?"
Dad -"Can't swim sir"
Sarge- "best you learn then!!" and with a shove, my dad found himself in the ocean with his fellow soldiers and the ever present possibility of sharks. He always roared with laughter at this experience. It didn't help me overcome my fear of water, but seeing my dad laugh like that made me feel better
My father also had a passion for tigers, this came about while on patrol in some Jungle they had been on foot for sometime when their guide told them to be still. Not more than three feet in front of them was the biggest Tiger he had ever seen, so he stood stock still staring into the eyes of this potential killing machine. What seemed like an age passed, and with grumble the tiger sloped off.
Those are the only two things i'll ever know..
Come November, comes remembrance sunday, or as we called it when we were kids, "Poppy day". I still refer to it as that now and again. I watched the remembrance service today and without realising, had tears roll down my face as i listened to the stories of soldiers old and new, and it brought back another memory of another remembrance sunday when i was a kid. I remembered it because of the question i asked as an innocent child, and how the words stung my father.
"Did you shoot lots of people, dad?" He got up, and as he got up, i saw his eyes glisten with tears as he left the room.
Looking back, with my adult perspective, i understand now why i only ever knew the two stories he did tell me. However it's the stories he never told that are why i never forget the sacrifices he made or any of the old soldiers during that terrible time...
Did i mention my Dad was, always will be my hero?
Sunday, 10 November 2013
Saturday, 24 August 2013
"Well i didn't expect that"
Were my exact words to the doctor as i lay in my hospital bed a couple of days after admission.
On July 23rd i had been out doing my usual errands, i hadn't been feeling too great but i'd put it down to the heat. I put it to the back of my mind and plodded on, refusing to be beaten by weather, Plus , it was a good day i was getting a new phone and i was particularly pleased as it was brand new . Anything prior to that had been second hand. However as Ronnie Corbett would say, i digress.
I got home and by the time i'd got settled it was becoming more and more obvious to me that i was a long way from well. I went to lie down, hoping it would pass. BIg old wrong. I was sweating, not sweating , it was pouring from me there were some minor twinges but nothing that indicated what i was to find out.
After i'd rung my surgery they told me to ring for an ambulance , which i did.
A very sullen lady paramedic came out and after much moaning about my cats, wired me up to a portable ecg monitor. Even in my panic driven state i knew this couldn't be good ( amazing the insight pure terror can give you)
Before i knew it, i was being helped into an ambulance and my partner , ashen faced was sat opposite me looking concerned. I was admitted into the cardiac care unit before i could say "well i'm buggered" My partner sat with me looking pale and tearful.
I felt lousy and was wired up like an amp at Reading festival.
I don't know if it's just me but time seemed to blur a little. The next day after much prodding and examining i had a nap after what passed for lunch and when i woke up, my sisters and three of my brothers were sat round the bed . All smiling and joking my kid sis holding my hand. This continued for a few days and gradually i got my strength back, i was allowed to use a proper toilet and everything. Fluid was coming off my lungs my bp was levelling out and my heart rate returning to something resembling normal.Before long i was mobile off the monitors and doing things for my self.
That was when i learnt the truly scary part of what i'd gone through .The doctor explained to me that when i was admitted, my heart was in failure and continued to be for three days. This explained the huge family presence i assume.
Anyway i was discharged and i'm finding that recovery is whole new learning experience in itself. i'm continuously discovering i have newer, and in some ways frustrating limits. i get knackered making a cuppa, the stairs down from my flat are now the descent of a mountain , so i do a little bit every day. I have to weigh myself every day and i'm losing weight at almost an ounce a day. SO the physical recovery seems to be going okay. The emotional side is where i'm struggling.
Most of who may read this will know i suffer from depression anyway. I don't do well with the way things are. I hate that i can't whizz around doing the shopping or picking up prescriptions as i used to, i hate that my partner has to do the things i used to, despite the fact she is in constant pain herself, yet she never complains, she never gets angry at me when i beat myself up for being like this . She reminds me that one day i'll be better than i am at the moment and chides me gently for my impatience. Yet not once has she complained. She is an amazing woman and when i have one of my crying bouts she listens patiently, even if she's heard it all before and she smiles and tells me i'll get there. She's right though, she always is. With her in my corner i'm gonna kick this things arse. At my own speed though.
On July 23rd i had been out doing my usual errands, i hadn't been feeling too great but i'd put it down to the heat. I put it to the back of my mind and plodded on, refusing to be beaten by weather, Plus , it was a good day i was getting a new phone and i was particularly pleased as it was brand new . Anything prior to that had been second hand. However as Ronnie Corbett would say, i digress.
I got home and by the time i'd got settled it was becoming more and more obvious to me that i was a long way from well. I went to lie down, hoping it would pass. BIg old wrong. I was sweating, not sweating , it was pouring from me there were some minor twinges but nothing that indicated what i was to find out.
After i'd rung my surgery they told me to ring for an ambulance , which i did.
A very sullen lady paramedic came out and after much moaning about my cats, wired me up to a portable ecg monitor. Even in my panic driven state i knew this couldn't be good ( amazing the insight pure terror can give you)
Before i knew it, i was being helped into an ambulance and my partner , ashen faced was sat opposite me looking concerned. I was admitted into the cardiac care unit before i could say "well i'm buggered" My partner sat with me looking pale and tearful.
I felt lousy and was wired up like an amp at Reading festival.
I don't know if it's just me but time seemed to blur a little. The next day after much prodding and examining i had a nap after what passed for lunch and when i woke up, my sisters and three of my brothers were sat round the bed . All smiling and joking my kid sis holding my hand. This continued for a few days and gradually i got my strength back, i was allowed to use a proper toilet and everything. Fluid was coming off my lungs my bp was levelling out and my heart rate returning to something resembling normal.Before long i was mobile off the monitors and doing things for my self.
That was when i learnt the truly scary part of what i'd gone through .The doctor explained to me that when i was admitted, my heart was in failure and continued to be for three days. This explained the huge family presence i assume.
Anyway i was discharged and i'm finding that recovery is whole new learning experience in itself. i'm continuously discovering i have newer, and in some ways frustrating limits. i get knackered making a cuppa, the stairs down from my flat are now the descent of a mountain , so i do a little bit every day. I have to weigh myself every day and i'm losing weight at almost an ounce a day. SO the physical recovery seems to be going okay. The emotional side is where i'm struggling.
Most of who may read this will know i suffer from depression anyway. I don't do well with the way things are. I hate that i can't whizz around doing the shopping or picking up prescriptions as i used to, i hate that my partner has to do the things i used to, despite the fact she is in constant pain herself, yet she never complains, she never gets angry at me when i beat myself up for being like this . She reminds me that one day i'll be better than i am at the moment and chides me gently for my impatience. Yet not once has she complained. She is an amazing woman and when i have one of my crying bouts she listens patiently, even if she's heard it all before and she smiles and tells me i'll get there. She's right though, she always is. With her in my corner i'm gonna kick this things arse. At my own speed though.
Monday, 28 January 2013
Scared
Okay i admit it.
I'm scared of what so called government reforms mean for the vulnerable and poor of this country. This wonderful organisation called ATOS has been recruited to assess the health of the physically disabled, and vulnerable Mentally ill. From what i can understand the people who carry out these assessments are not medically trained and what insight they have on the whole spectrum of mental illness you could write on an ants pube.
Seriously though, we hear week in, week out about how the country is in debt , and that the government intends to end that debt. Very nice, but HOW? not by penalising the politicians who have ridiculous spending on expenses or bonuses for kissing Davey C's arse when in Westminster (that's how it seems to me) NO, let's take it from the lowest common denominator; the Disabled, the vulnerable out of their benefits.
So we have ATOS as i said before who have little or no insight into the day to day struggles they go through. Over the last few months i've heard about a man with chronic heart disease told he was able to work when he sadly died mere days later. The people with mental health problems ranging from depression to the most severe forms who took their own lives as a result of the treatment they recieved because of ATOS.
i expect the powers that be just swept it under the carpet like the NIMBYs they've proven themselves to be.
Then we had tonight's Panorama, and the story of organisations with names like "Triage" and other shiny names like that.....Then the stories of people being failed by these organisations, of being referred to as "Lazy, Thieving, Bastards" by the jokingly called "support staff". Oh really? Lazy? no. My days are spent supporting my partner who has , like me chronic anxiety/depression and a physical complaint called "Renaud's" which makes it difficult for her to walk or even hold things when it's at it's worst.
If i'm lucky i can get her to take a trip out doors once or twice a month .
Even then it can take us 15-20 minutes to get down two flights of stairs.
She can't work yet if they decide to take her benefits, she won't cope. She won't be able to work like they'll expect her too, and no doubt for that she'll be penalised.
I have anxiety/depression and much as i have days when i want to curl up in a ball and hide, i can't. She needs me to do the shopping trips, to get her prescriptions and to be the arm she holds on to if she gets anxious on the rare occasions she can go out.
So tell me IDS how do you sleep at night?
I'm scared of what so called government reforms mean for the vulnerable and poor of this country. This wonderful organisation called ATOS has been recruited to assess the health of the physically disabled, and vulnerable Mentally ill. From what i can understand the people who carry out these assessments are not medically trained and what insight they have on the whole spectrum of mental illness you could write on an ants pube.
Seriously though, we hear week in, week out about how the country is in debt , and that the government intends to end that debt. Very nice, but HOW? not by penalising the politicians who have ridiculous spending on expenses or bonuses for kissing Davey C's arse when in Westminster (that's how it seems to me) NO, let's take it from the lowest common denominator; the Disabled, the vulnerable out of their benefits.
So we have ATOS as i said before who have little or no insight into the day to day struggles they go through. Over the last few months i've heard about a man with chronic heart disease told he was able to work when he sadly died mere days later. The people with mental health problems ranging from depression to the most severe forms who took their own lives as a result of the treatment they recieved because of ATOS.
i expect the powers that be just swept it under the carpet like the NIMBYs they've proven themselves to be.
Then we had tonight's Panorama, and the story of organisations with names like "Triage" and other shiny names like that.....Then the stories of people being failed by these organisations, of being referred to as "Lazy, Thieving, Bastards" by the jokingly called "support staff". Oh really? Lazy? no. My days are spent supporting my partner who has , like me chronic anxiety/depression and a physical complaint called "Renaud's" which makes it difficult for her to walk or even hold things when it's at it's worst.
If i'm lucky i can get her to take a trip out doors once or twice a month .
Even then it can take us 15-20 minutes to get down two flights of stairs.
She can't work yet if they decide to take her benefits, she won't cope. She won't be able to work like they'll expect her too, and no doubt for that she'll be penalised.
I have anxiety/depression and much as i have days when i want to curl up in a ball and hide, i can't. She needs me to do the shopping trips, to get her prescriptions and to be the arm she holds on to if she gets anxious on the rare occasions she can go out.
So tell me IDS how do you sleep at night?
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