So with glad tidings and yet again with lightning speed the wonder that is Christmas Eve is upon us. Working in retail the opportunity to feel 'Christmassy' and enjoy the build up to Christmas is slightly stunted by the onslaught of crazy Christmas shoppers, bargain hunters, sale preparation and the woes of those less organised customers whose requests, reasonable or otherwise, we attempt to resolve, because after all, it's Christmas. It has meant, unfortunately, that the whole 'getting in the Christmas spirit' has been very literal its meaning, with and hour spent in the pub round the corner from work. Never the less, my Christmas tidings are from the heart as well as a third of a bottle of Merlot.
I'm keeping this short and sweet with just a few thank you's and wishes both for the year past and the year to come. I'm thankful that I have spent another beautiful year (my 3rd at that) as Mrs Boardman, it is yet to lose it's charm and I doubt it ever will, I am blessed that this year we have survived unscathed and I have managed another year without any hospital stays. This year has brought me a goddaughter who is too beautiful to mention and who emits the warm and generous nature of her mother, one of my best friends in the world. This year has also given me yet another amazing nephew who is truly gorgeous and full of hugs waiting to be given and of course the news that my condition is extremely stable and as healthy as I could possibly be.
I wish lots of love to all my friends, many of whom have created families of there own this year, to my family who yet again have provided lots of love and support despite having their own own lives to lead and problems to solve and of course, last but not least, to my adoring, faithful, hardworking and loving husband who's actions in our days spent together are the true embodiment of those vows spoken two and and a half years ago. A Merry Christmas from me, two glasses of wine and a cheeky rum and coke.
Tuesday 24 December 2013
Sunday 15 December 2013
Christmas Spirit
As we race towards Christmas with the speed and energy of a Meatloaf power ballad i'm confronted by the fact I've survived another year on this planet and moreso in the best (as far as i'm limited) of health and stress free in a long time.
When you go through a traumatic illness, accident or life changing experience I like to say that it opens your eyes to the truth of what people go through, makes you a far less selfish person but of course I can only speak for myself.
I'm astounded at how easily I notice the shadows of hurt flickering behind peoples eyes. Sad stories playing on loop and transmitting silently to another through tone of voice, eye contact or a subtle smile that doesn't quite break across the cheeks.
Everybody has a sad tale to tell, some more than others. But those who have encountered utter pain need not speak a word, you will be read and understood.
Since my immune system has gone haywire, you'd hazard a guess that with nearly 4 years of regular hospital visits, stays and appointments I would be immune to the routine of going for my consultations and would treat it with the nonchalance of fern cotton presenting Glasto. But no, far from a party in the mud and more like going back 18 years to the night before your A level results (or BTEC advanced if you were anything like me and found academia like wading through a swamp)
The trouble with me is that I have an overwhelming desire to care far too much about everything. Despite my husbands demands that I should 'not give a shiny what's sometimes i'm afraid it's just built in. So with a looming hospital appointments this week, my overactive imagination steps in and that suppressed but ever present thought of 'what if something isn't ok this time' starts doing it's little dance around my brain. I ask for those that can see those invisible signs, just to smile and reconsider your actions, don't say those words of contempt, push past me in the busy shops or judge me because I'm a little bit quieter and more tired. It makes my day that little easier, you should know. You've been there too.
When you go through a traumatic illness, accident or life changing experience I like to say that it opens your eyes to the truth of what people go through, makes you a far less selfish person but of course I can only speak for myself.
I'm astounded at how easily I notice the shadows of hurt flickering behind peoples eyes. Sad stories playing on loop and transmitting silently to another through tone of voice, eye contact or a subtle smile that doesn't quite break across the cheeks.
Everybody has a sad tale to tell, some more than others. But those who have encountered utter pain need not speak a word, you will be read and understood.
Since my immune system has gone haywire, you'd hazard a guess that with nearly 4 years of regular hospital visits, stays and appointments I would be immune to the routine of going for my consultations and would treat it with the nonchalance of fern cotton presenting Glasto. But no, far from a party in the mud and more like going back 18 years to the night before your A level results (or BTEC advanced if you were anything like me and found academia like wading through a swamp)
The trouble with me is that I have an overwhelming desire to care far too much about everything. Despite my husbands demands that I should 'not give a shiny what's sometimes i'm afraid it's just built in. So with a looming hospital appointments this week, my overactive imagination steps in and that suppressed but ever present thought of 'what if something isn't ok this time' starts doing it's little dance around my brain. I ask for those that can see those invisible signs, just to smile and reconsider your actions, don't say those words of contempt, push past me in the busy shops or judge me because I'm a little bit quieter and more tired. It makes my day that little easier, you should know. You've been there too.
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