A day of downward spirals.

I am finally somewhat resurfacing after a nasty bout of food poisoning and when I say nasty I mean real nasty, about as close to ambulances and stomach pumping as you can get.

My Monday was destined to slide into a steady decline, pure pure destiny. While I managed to get out of bed, breath, not trip down the stairs, eat breakfast and not choke it was basically in ruins from the time I decided I would do a work out in the garage. It had been one too many weeks off the diet and exercise train and I desperately needed to jump back on. Baby and I ate breakfast together, I had toast no butter and some creamed corn, she had some sort of half mash half puree concoction making the kinds of faces similar to those one might make when they suck on a lime or have a shot of Chartreuse, yet still opened her mouth and followed the spoon around for more. We played for a bit- row, row, row your boat, the babies on the bus, that kind of thing then it was time for her to go back to bed. I seized the opportunity to do my work out while she slept and while the big boy was at Grandma's house having a sleep over. Some sort of gym gear/threadbare type workout clothing that was now usually reserved for cleaning the shower with bleach was chucked on, there was no one to impress in this garage gym. Or so I thought.

I opened up the garage door to reverse the 4WD out and noticed a man with a lap top propped on my letter box at the end of the drive way. Oh my stupid pea brain that can't remember a thing! As usual, a million thoughts and things I should have remembered that would now impact on this situation start flooding back into my brain void of any memory. We had received a letter on Friday, though it could have arrived considerably earlier in the week as we avoid the letter box like the plague (it rarely brings good news) regarding the replacement of an outdated meter in our electrical meter box. The replacement would occur on Monday-Today, between 7-9am, it was now 1030am go figure. The replacement would cost us nothing, wow, that’s a first Ausgrid, but the power would be off during the replacement period. Awesome, absolutely awesome.


I reverse the car and turn it off but I don't get out straight away. I just sit, pondering nothing, head full of mush, just sit. I should get out of the car; he probably thinks I'm some weirdo. He walks around to the passenger side to look through the window and I get out slowly, I should say something, speak, even a hello would do. He says hi and introduces himself. I know exactly who he is. I had made my husband ring the number provided on the letter on Saturday morning to enquire about exactly what it was that they were going to do. Energy Australia and Ausgrid and anything to do with electricity just really don’t mix well with me, I've watched far too much garbage on A Current Affair and have had my brain poisoned by people interviewed on the program who claim their lives have been ruined by Smart Meters, that since they were installed they have had strange headaches and sky rocketing power bills. I didn't need any more headaches, I had a long waiting list of headaches just waiting to infect my brain and I certainly didn't need another single cent added to my already revoltingly expensive power bill sitting on the fridge waiting to be paid in fortnightly instalments because the final amount can't possibly be paid in one hit.


He explains that the power is going to be off for about ten minutes but first he needs to record some stuff down. "Yep, yep no worries", I act all cool and polite but meanwhile all I can think of is the baby monitor that is on right next to the sleeping baby's head on my bedside table that once power is cut starts beeping frantically so you know it's no longer working, the temperamental dishwasher that has been known to trigger the safety switch in the meter box and shut down all power to the house, the fact that I will now be doing a workout in the garage in the dark. Oh for crying out loud. Why me!?

 

Still trying to remain cool I tell him that if he needs anything just ring the door bell, but what sort of mother with a sleeping baby upstairs does that? It's not entirely his fault, unless he was going to use Morse Code on the garage door then he didn't really have any other options. I race upstairs to turn the monitor off as well as the white noise on the radio that soothes her to sleep, she stays asleep, a win for me, perhaps I can get this workout done with all this chaos going on around me. I turn the dishwasher off mid cycle and remind myself that I need to make a note that the cleaning cycle isn't finished and that once the power is back on I need to turn it back on so when darling husband comes home he knows not to take out and put away half cleaned dishes, I forget.

Back to the gym/garage I turn on some music on my iphone and get started. The power goes off, baby stays asleep and it's all looking peachy. I get one and a half sets of my routine done and I'm working up a sweat, perhaps this day will work out after all....Ahhh no. I hear him opening and slamming the lid to the meter box a few times conscious that the meter box is right below our bedroom where baby is sleeping. I start to wonder whether it would kill the dude to just close it softly, those things make a seriously racket when they are let go to slam shut repeatedly and then comes the sound of the power returning. If you've ever been inside your house when someone flicks the switch on the meter box for power to return it's a slightly alarming, slightly out of this world noise particularly when you've had a whole range of electrical devices running that all start humming away at once only this time the loss and return of power cause the door bell to start chucking a fit and the ducted vacuum starts sucking on its own. What they? And then baby wakes up.


I race upstairs and try and rock her back to sleep. I just need another 10 minutes to finish off at least one more set of the workout and then it will have been worth all the fuss. I lay on the bed next to the bassinet hoping to just melt into the bed so she doesn't see me but that's useless because the Ausgrid guy rings the doorbell and you can hear my door bell from China. It's the kinds of door bell that I imagine one would have in a mansion with 15 bedrooms so you can hear it ding dong from three quarters of a mile away. I want to throw myself down the stairs. I leave her and race to the garage and open the garage roller door because I can't find my house keys, why can't I ever find my house keys? I ask him what he has done but I don't even know why I do because it's not like it was something I asked for or even something I had any control over. I do however want to know whether the power readings will be more accurate in the hope that perhaps they have been wrong all along and my power bill will be drastically cheaper. He explains something about calibration, I can appreciate calibration but after that I drift off as usual, my brain shuts down and I have difficulty retaining information. Why does this always happen? I have to start to listen more and take note of what people tell me. It's beginning to become a problem.


Baby! I have to go, that’s right baby is awake upstairs. He smiles, says goodbye and trots off down the driveway rolling his little cart and laptop behind him ready to start opening and slamming some more electrical meter box lids on the house down the road. Baby is wide awake and should really be asleep but there’s too much fuss gone down now to try and get her back to sleep, I may as well shower and get ready to go shopping with my mum.

Now all of this crap happens in a pretty short amount of time and isn't really that much of a big deal in the scheme of things. Baby has been woken mid nap before, it's not the end of the world, I have started and not been able to finish a workout amongst many, many, many, many, many, many other things as a mother of two small and at times totally unpredictable children so it's no biggie in comparison to times I've cancelled catch ups, lunches and dinners at the last undying minute because of a child related problem but it does subconsciously send my day into a further downward spiral. Nothing I try on looks good, I'm having a massive fat day and piles of clothes and shoes get dumped inside the walk-in. I end up pulling out a pair of jeans from the dirty clothes basket that I had told myself I wasn't going to wear today as they are the "safe option" and I am sick of wearing the "safe option" all the time and want to wear something different. They were also dirty, with a little bit of mud off big boy’s shoes, not major dirt, it could have been wiped off and I could have folded them and put them back in my cupboard but it was easier to just throw them into the dirty clothes.

I throw on an oversized jumper, I also pledged to stop wearing those things as they too are on the "safe options" list. While they hide a full manner of sins they only act to make you look about 30kg heavier but I am mega late to meet mum. It's now 12:45pm, I am meant to be at mums place at 1pm. Mum lives 40 minutes away so unless I am about to teleport myself and the baby I am going to be about 1 hour late. Now 15-20 minutes late is ok but an hour is just plan ridiculous and rude. I message mum, tap my magic wand, throw everything into the car, dress baby and quickly try and feed her. Just as I am about to leave I glance over the cupboard to see if there is anything I can grab for lunch. Nothing jumps at me so I leave the option of eating anything for lunch at home and borderline speed to get to mums with just a little bit of grace intact.


Half way there I start to feel really hungry. It's been 6 hours since I last ate something but my options are truly awful- McDonalds, McDonalds and McDonalds. I refrain, it’s garbage food and I won’t eat it. As I start to roll towards the last pit stop before mums I contemplate whether I should just pull into the servo and grab a yoghurt. I decide it's probably a good idea, I won't eat at mums, I'm late, we are going shopping, stopping means I need to take out the baby from the car, feed her before she gets back into the car, it will just prolong everything so a servo snack it is. I run in and dart around looking for a healthy or even remotely healthy option. There are chocolate, chips, soft drink from floor to ceiling and one poor sad and lonely egg and lettuce sandwich sitting in an open cooler section. On closer inspection that sad sandwich is crusty and could well have been there for more than 24 hours. No thank you! So I'm forced into the McDonalds Express in the same servo complex. I really really don't want to do this but there is nothing left. Our shopping destinations for jewellery making bits and pieces aren't anywhere near anywhere that sells food and I just want something small to tie me over till dinner. Kilojoule counts are next to every item on the Maccas menu, numbers and letters and dollar signs everywhere and I'm confused. It's just one big giant mess that is there to confuse you but I really want to make a healthy decision about what I am going to eat. I decide to get a chicken wrap, it appears to be the healthiest way to go and I don't have much time left to compare kilojoule counts anymore.


I wolf it down and try and hide a decision I am unhappy with in the back of my mind. I get to mums and we load into the car towards our first destination. It's about 10 minutes into our journey that baby starts to express her shear distaste for being in the car by crying really quite loudly but this crying is a bit different to the usual whinging and I start to think perhaps she's not feeling so crash hot. We make it to the first shop and have a squizz at the beads and jewellery making options. Baby stinks! Nappy change! Nappy change on busy major Sydney road! I pull out a world full of crap, pram seats, pram, box full of baby carriers, a baby swing (don't ask) nappy bag and chuck it onto the road beside me and make room to lay baby down in the boot for a nappy change. Meanwhile cars and trucks and buses fly past me and I hope that by me changing a baby's nappy in the boot doesn't distract someone from watching the road and they veer into my car. I'm always worried about that but sadly nappy change areas are not always that easy to find inside a jewellery and bead store so the boot on the side of a busy road is my only option. Nappy change done, boot repacked, but baby is still sad.


Exhausting isn't it? Perhaps baby is hungry so I give her a jar of baby food standing next to her capsule, car door open, still on the busy road, while my poor mum sits in the passenger seat, our shopping trip isn't going quite as planned. Baby wolfs down her food a bit like my regretful chicken wrap and I'm praying this is the magic to settle her so we can have a good look around a button store I have been absolutely dying to visit for yonks. The crying escalates, my blood pressure rises and I try desperately to concentrate on both driving and trying to hold a conversation with mum. No shushing, stroking her head or soothingly calling her name will stop the crying and I decide that it's best to just axe this trip and go home. She's hysterical, I call darling husband and ask him to call our GP to see if I can squeeze into the doctors this afternoon and not the day after as I had booked prior.


She hasn't been herself for a while now so I booked in to see our GP the following day in case there's something going on that I can't see or in all my infinite mummy wisdom I’m missing...ear infection, UTI, throat infection etc. I'm pretty good on the self diagnosis, minor home emergency room/operating theatre with my small first aid kit on myself and the husband but babies are a bit different and best left to the professionals. They will see us today I just need to get from the busy Sydney road back to mums, drop mum off, back onto busy Sydney road and to the doctors. I zoom back to mums, the darling husband makes it there too just before I leave to pick up the big boy and take him home, I kiss the family goodbye and then zoom back off to the GP. By now she is beyond hysterical but I have grown somewhat immune to the perils of a screaming baby in Sydney traffic when you’re a long long way from your destination and while I am worried about her and just want to stop and take her out of the car seat and give her a cuddle I need to get to the doctor before it closes and its nearly 4pm.


We make it there, he sees us but even he can't be sure what is causing the distress. Ears seem a little inflamed but not the usual infected appearance. We chat about a number of baby related bits and bobs as he tries to ascertain what could be the cause and we both decide that antibiotics are the way to go. I like the way we make a joint decision. He's a good GP, he knows us well. I like him a lot.


I take baby home put her to bed and decide that I might just sit down. It's been a frantic day and I was pretty worried about her for a while there but I've had way worse days with far more concerning health issues and just pray that it's a minor ear infection and that in a week or so she'll be back to good. And then my stomach rumbles. Oh dear god why? It's not a good rumbling. I've gone longer without food, you get used to that being insanely busy like I am most days, but this wasn't my stomach telling me it's hungry this was the rumble from hell. I ignore it and go into denial. When I know something is upon me that I don't necessarily want to accept I deny deny deny. But my denial only acts to save me from complete doom for a while and the rumble gets worse. I start to feel all fuzzy headed and cold then hot then cold. "Why is the air con not on, it's bloody freezing" I yell, "It is honey" says the husband from upstairs. I'm cold really cold, this isn't looking good.


I stare through the TV, I can't even focus on that anymore, my poor overloaded unable to think or remember anything brain is telling me something isn't right and that perhaps something I ate today isn't agreeing with me. That happens from time to time and usually doesn't pose too much of a problem but not tonight buddy. Like a baseball bat to the head I am sick. Now this isn't sick like one might imagine. This is sick from head to toe like your organs are trying to burst through your skin, like your ribs want to splinter like tooth picks, it's an awful gut wrenching heaving, wanting to die feeling. It goes on and on and on then stops. Yippee, thank god, minor disaster averted. Thank you Man upstairs for being kind to me I’ve had gastro 3 times in 12 months, once while pregnant, once lasting more than 2 weeks with 2 months of temporary lactose intolerance, I don’t need anymore stomach upsets thank you, thank you, thank you. I feel calm and so much better but still so very hungry so I have some water and some toast. Still feel good so I have some plain pasta just to tie me over.


Oh noooooo, it hits me again. This time worse, worse than splintering bones. Every joint and muscle in my body is filled with hand grenades and they are all going off at once. I drag myself up to the bath to warm up after half an hour downstairs dying in the bathroom. I am freezing, I haven't been this cold since I went to Perisha without a scarf, beanie or gloves. By this time I am close to passing out, I start getting the cold tingly feeling in your fingers just before you faint. I trip and nearly lose my footing twice bumping into the bathroom sink. My skin is so pale it's translucent and I lay down in bed. Darling husband says “I think you need to go to the hospital babe, you look really bad”. The heaving continues and I think I am going to well and truly pass out now. "I'm calling an ambulance" "no I don't want to go to hospital". I don't want to go to emergency, I just couldn't think of anything worse but maybe I might need to? I grab some maxolon that I still had lying around from when I had gastro and morning sickness when pregnant but I can't keep even water down and even the maxolon gets flushed. Not sure whether I should have more I yell "I need an ambulance." It's really bad now my ears are ringing, I feel terribly unwell, it's torturous.


The husband is walking around holding the poor old bubba, she’s awake and witness to all this drama as she won't let us put her down as she too is not in a good place again. He grabs the phone and asks me who to call to look after the kids while we go to hospital. Too much to think of, too much drama, too late, too stressful, just too much too's! I decide to stay home and wait it out here till the morning but tell him to ring my mum to get her to come over and help look after the kids the next day, the husband has a huge 3 hour presentation to give to his boss who’s flown up from Melbourne the next morning and is also picking her up from the airport too. Can you believe my timing? Can you believe how epic it would be if he called her at 9pm at night to cancel all this…see you later job if he did but I need someone to help me, I can’t even help myself let alone look after two small children. This is serious though and when things get real bad who you gonna call?? Your mum of course!


The night is long, I toss and turn and sit up and down and freeze then burn up. At one point my temperature goes up past 38.5 and I lay there on the bed with a face washer cooling me down all the while my feet are cramping because I’m pretty sure all blood flow to them has ceased and the temperature in my veins is well below freezing point. I'm not in a good way, I don't do sick and this is about as sick as I think I've been in a long while, not even the gastro was this bad, it’s about as close to the pain I feel during labour if I had to compare it.

The next morning I wake up and feel revolting. I am beyond tired, I have to breast feed a baby and look after my spirited little man. The husband leaves for work and I lay dormant on the lounge waiting for mum to get here to help. She arrives, I take baby, put her back to bed and go and have a sleep myself. When I wake up it’s like nothing ever happened, I feel a million dollars compared to just two hours ago but I clearly haven’t learnt from the previous nights episodes and that this thing hasn’t gone yet. While I don’t dare have something to eat I tell mum it’s ok to leave, she has an appointment to go to, I will be right with the kids.

Not a minute after she leaves I feel the aching bone crunching pain coming back like a silent tidal wave. The panadol I had taken before my sleep is wearing off at a rate of nots and I am yet again rendered useless. Getting up off the tile floor after feeding baby in her play centre is hurting me even thinking about it now. I have to have someone help me, I can’t adequately and safely look after these children on my own, I should have gone to hospital, I should have had my stomach pumped or had some IV fluids or IV maxolon or something IV for Christ sake. I call the husband and tell him that I need someone to come home now. I can’t be sure how this afternoon is going to pan out without another adult here. “I’m leaving in 20 minutes” Awesome, thank god, I was starting to think I might need to do an SOS. 40 minutes later I ring “where are you?” I’m leaving now, ahhh shit, men and their timing but he is home so quick that it’s scary.


I lay on the lounge and pull the blanket over my head. The little man jumps all over me, each step feels like he weighs 400kg’s but I don’t even have energy to tell him to jump off. Another 24 hours rolls on through and then another and now here I am. I am finally feeling back to about 80%. I don’t feel like eating, food scares me and I look at everything that I think about putting in my mouth wondering what it’s going to do to my insides. Maybe tomorrow I might even be back to about 92.3% and the day after 100%. As far as I am concerned I better be, it’s my first child free night out in more than 7 months.

As for now, I plan on writing a letter to McDonald’s Australia. You know me, always wanting to write letters to get my point across. I feel this case of food poisoning certainly warrants it. If they are going to dish out food that is so potent then be it unto me to pass on the news with a strongly worded letter. Hopefully I save someone else from getting as sick as I did or even worse. Just another day in the life of Mrs C. Oh, and the dishes got put away half clean- oops and the dish washer sat full of water for a few days too- double oops!