In the very depths of our souls, Scottish people do not believe there will be two sunny days in a row.
It’s a truth that stays with us from youth, even with misguided memories of long, hot, lazy summer holidays.
As Scots age, we come to accept every single sunny day MUST be treated like it will be the last, possibly for a generation.
I laughed at myself announcing, while watching the news, how lovely the easing of lockdown measures was, allowing us to regain some semblance of normality. As if I can usually found huddling in a beer garden on a Monday afternoon under a giant umbrella, hiding from torrential rain……..
Scottish weather can’t play nice for more than two days in a row, so I’ll at least try to be ready for it.
Winter coats remain in situ rather than stored away, littering the car but not put back in the house, just in case. Sunglasses and sun cream, umbrellas and wellies. Possibly even a blanket though I can argue its presence claiming it’s for an impromptu picnic.
Layers will continue to be worn
Layers will continue to be worn and any plans made will have alternatives ready and waiting.
Out for a walk with the dogs and my friend? Lovely, lets aim for the beach but one near the woods so we can duck under cover with a moment’s notice.
At least our famous Scottish weather is ever boring.
Life this week has once again entailed a revolving door at my regular hospital ward so weather-appropriate clothing wasn’t a pressing issue.
Nurses are wonderful, they always are
There is no longer a drop of blood produced by me flowing through my veins after needing yet another four transfusions. I now total eleven this year alone.
In a week celebrating International Nurses Day they never fail to impress. I was tempted to tell them to hand me the constantly ringing phone and let me help, even in an administrative capacity. They never stop, not for one second.
Any guilt about causing them additional work was promptly dismissed and, as always, I was treated with an abundance of compassion and kindness.
If anything, this pandemic has made me realise the previous many times I claimed to be ‘at the end of my tether’ I was actually somewhere around the middle of my tether and not in fact, at the end.
I admit I reached it this week. I’m not proud.
Normally a cheery, welcoming and positive person I found myself asking two ‘customers’ to leave and never come back after being rude to my staff while I was absent from the front.
I just didn’t have the energy to pretend to tolerate it. NHS staff, emergency services workers, delivery drivers, hospitality and retail staff ALL hailed as heroes in some capacity during lockdown, now having to deal with a few entitled people who believe it’s somehow appropriate to be discourteous if things are no longer the same as pre-Covid.
Those telling moments
I should have realised I was needing help sooner.
When I’d emerged from my supermarket shop to find the boot of the car lying wide open. When I’d taken approximately five naps but was still exhausted.
When the kids started rating my moods like hurricanes – ‘Guys, today we have an exhausted, sore, Category 5 mum in the kitchen, grab some bottled water and ride out the storm in your bedroom….’
Moving forward, I need to stop wasting my time and just let it go.
Lockdown is easing and it’s time to embrace the joy again.
Following my diagnosis, people often asked me if I had a ‘bucket’ list. I absolutely don’t. Mine is more of a f**k it list, full of things I never want to do again and wasting time being cross or offended by some who don’t matter is right up there.
So, no rambling long post, just a sincere thanks to those showing me love, support, friendship and kindness these past few weeks.
I’m finding things a little overwhelming so I’m heading to the beach to switch off from social media for a couple of days, look after myself and rediscover my own version of happiness.
What a beautiful thing it will be to be able to stand tall and say ‘I almost fell apart but I survived’.
