Husband, Call An Ambulance

OneGoodArm Swear Scale: Low Range

Soooooooo just when I think everything is going well life has come along and once again slapped me in the face. Luckily it was a quick and swift slap and I am already almost over it. Just a rosy afterglow remains.

So the great unveiling occurred Saturday and a wonderful day with the family was had. We all went to bed happy and tired and full of food. Sunday was another stinking hot #summerfireball of a day and I decided to throw caution to the wind and get in the pool.

All my wounds are completely healed, or sealed, or whatever is relevant so how much harm could it do. The pool is probably more sterile than our house water which is stored in an old concrete tank that has lord only knows what bacteria thriving in it, so I decided to risk it. The only thing swimming in our pool that shouldn’t be is my infant son’s urine, those swimmer nappies are not fool proof.

The pool was 28deg, that gives you an indication of how bloody hot it was. In I went and it was like a magical Christmas. I flopped and rolled and floated, like a fat bulbous uncoordinated seal, blissfully happy to be back in her natural habitat. I got out after 10 minutes as I didn’t want to push my luck.

After lunch the whole family got in and I flopped and rolled some more. I even jumped off the stairs and did a forward flip for my son holding Colin securely with my good arm. He was very impressed. I got out again after a few minutes thinking I was definitely using up all my ‘anti-infection luck’ credits.

After I got out and sat in the shade watching the family continuing to frolick (bastards) I started to feel, to be blunt, like absolute shit. A creeping nausea was coming over me and it was awful. Pain I can handle, nausea is a whole other story.

By 6pm I was laying flat on the lounge supervising the children from a nauseated stupor. Luckily they are well behaved children as they could have overpowered me with a couple of barbies and some crazy string. I dragged myself up at 7pm to make them some dinner and after opening one tin I hobbled to the back door and called for Husband who was grinding something in the workshop.

Amazingly he heard me immediately. I must have sounded like death as he came up to the house instantly. Normally I stand at the laundry door screaming like banshee and he either never responds and I have to go and throw a shoe at him in a rage or he hears me after 15 attempts and I am furious from all the screaming.

So he came inside to make the dinner and I went to lay down so I didn’t throw up. After another hour or so of laying on the bed thinking life was beating me with a big fucking hairy stick I decided I needed the loo. So I hobbled into the laundry toilet and sat down, don’t worry nothing you don’t want to know about happened, and then I felt my hands starting to cramp up with intense pins and needles – and my ankles – thought I would faint so I laid down on the tiles with my pants around my ankles and started to panic.

“Honey!!!!” I called and I heard him run down the hall. Again Husband rarely runs, his giant legs take 1m footsteps so its never required, and I didn’t actually call that loudly but he heard me and he came. By this time my hand, mostly my good hand as my other hand is you know – paralysed – were in a full claw like spasm, my feet also and my mouth was joining in the fun. For a moment I thought I might be having a stroke, or I had crushed a nerve in my neck causing the intense pins and needles.

My hands looked something like this:

I told Husband to call an ambulance as I was by this point completely terrified and unable to move. I was also crying and panting. Meanwhile Husband had shot the kids in bed and their bedroom is right next to the laundry where I was currently foaming at the mouth (in my mind at least), and they were squealing and laughing, jumping on the bed and throwing toys into the walls completely oblivious to the situation unfolding 1m away.

Life. It’s never what you expect.

So the ambulance arrived and the 000 operator whilst we were waiting ruled out stroke by asking Husband and a number of questions – one of which was could I form a smile – can you imagine the smile I produced whilst my whole body was in spasm, terrified for my life, laying on cold tiles with no bra on and my pants around my ankles??!! It looked like this 😬😬😬😬 only uglier.

So two of the most wonderful Ambo’s arrived (Husband had quickly pulled up my dacks) and took over. Turns out I had a bug of some sort which caused dehydration, that caused me to feel feint and my blood pressure to plummet, the spasms came on because I was then breathing too quickly and the full spasms resulted from hyperventilating.

They gave me an injection for the nausea, took my blood pressure, did an ECG, got me up off the tiles, asked me 657 questions and put me in bed. They were utterly and totally wonderful and I couldn’t say enough good things about them. They said my panic was completely normal given my chronic injury and worrying about my good arm (and feet) joining the party.

I still felt like a dickhead. But you know, that is par for the course.

So that was my Sunday night adventure. Alls well that ends well.

OGA Out.

Secret Pony 2018

OneGoodArm Swear Scale: Mild Curry

So this Saturday just passed (yesterday) we performed the great unveiling of my Daughter’s pony. It was a very heart warming moment when my whole family gathered to watch husband trot around the corner of our home with said fur ball and watch my little darling Daughter’s overwhelmed expression.

She upon climbing into bed last night said it had been the greatest gift of her ‘entire’ life. All 4.99 years of it (her birthday is actually next week). Colin was there for the event too and not in his sling. I look ‘normal’ in the photos which I have discovered is something I no longer care about.

I do not even think about the sling anymore, other than how damn hot and sweaty it makes my mid section (especially in a summer #fireball – approaching 14 days straight of temps between 35 and 45). I also have a new rule of no horse activities (feeding, leading, washing etc) without Colin safely strapped in the sling. This resolution was made after an ‘incident’ last week.

I was sitting in my stable yards watching the little fur ball the day he arrived. I had the two big horses and the pony all in the yards. The pony being so small he could dart under the timber fences between the yards and systematically scare the shit out of each big horse. It was quite entertaining. Anyway after some time everyone settled down and I parked myself on a low fence railing in one yard to watch.

Stupidly I left one horse unsupervised behind me but because he had never bitten I did not think it was cause for concern. Thankfully Colin was rigged up in his scaffolding and was tucked in nice and tight. So as I am sitting there admiring the pony when I feel this great excruciating pain on my back. My ‘non biting horse’ had just bitten me so hard I was bleeding and I thought half my back may have been missing.

What an opportunistic fucker!!

Now you know I have been quite good of late on the rageometer but I’m sorry, all bets were now off! I screamed out in pain knowing instantly what had happened and shot up, whirled around like a ballerina performing a pirouette and gave said biting fuckhead the ‘look of thunder’. This makes the stink eye look like a loving glance across the dance floor.

The rageometer was at full redline. Everyone was terrified, even passing birds. My old horse went and hid in the corner assuming he was in trouble just by sheer association and the pony trembled beside him not knowing what the issue was but feeling the terror in the air, I shot under the fence grabbing a rake as I went and chased the biter into a stable. He had hitailed it into the only refuge available.

But of course now he was cornered and that was not good news with a homicidal maniac coming after him. I am sure my mother is now biting her fingernails and wishing her one armed daughter did not a) have a rage problem and b) did not have horses. Lol.

So I raise up my rake as if I am going to strike the great fucking bastard (don’t call animal protection, I don’t beat my horses with rake’s, but I was tempted, this is more like, I am going to kill you in my mind and let this be a lesson to you etc) and he clearly thinking I WAS going to beat him to death rears up and touches the stable roof and promptly falls completely over onto his side.

This incident of spasticness in my 600kg animal took me (and him I am sure) completely by surprise and I stepped back in shock – because a stable is not that big and I didn’t need any more missing limbs, and in doing so I tripped and fell straight onto my back. Matching spastics. And yes I am allowed to say ‘spastic’ without offending people, look up the meaning, it officially applies to Colin.

So here we are both laying on the ground frightened as fuck wondering what the hell just happened. We clambered to our feet and ran straight to each other for a cuddle. He was clearly sorry for biting and knew never to piss off such a psychopath ever again. And I will never go to horse duties without my sling. Colin was fine! I could throw myself onto hard packed dirt flat on my back and no problems!

Silver lining. There is always one. That happened five days ago, the horse has never been friendlier or more compliant since. Yesterday he was laying down in the yard, he let me sit on him, scratch his ears, take of his head collar – all whilst laying down. He knows what’s good for him now.

Anyway my bite isn’t too bad as the stupid animal bit me right on the sling strap that goes across my back. He left a large bruise and took some skin, but had it been just my shirt (actually I was wearing a little slip of a dress 😂 can you imagine) it would have been MUCH worse. More good news!

So it’s been a productive week what with the back hoeing of my arena, moving my round yard to perform said back hoeing, the pony unveiling and family lunch to go with it.

I am a happy little vegemite.

OGA Out.