It's amazing

how much we take for granted. And I don't have my mummy hat on here, I have my "me" hat on. The main thing I'm talking about is health. We assume that we will wake up in the morning, whatever time that may be (and for me it is around 4.50am as Angus hasn't quite grasped the whole daylight savings concept) and will be able to carry out our duties, motherly or otherwise, and get through the day.

The last three days that hasn't happened. I haven't been able to. I started vomiting three days ago and since then just went downhill to the point where I was sure I was having a heart attack. The ECG I got yesterday ensured I wasn't, and the chest xray also came back clear, however the pain remained, and I was physically unable to do pretty well anything.

I now have some pretty full on painkillers which have allowed me to function this afternoon and this evening, albeit with a very fuzzy glow, but functioning I am. And tomorrow the ultrasound will let me know if there is anything to really worry about.

I'm not dwelling on the whole being sick thing, I hate being sick, and I hate not being able to do the things that I am used to doing every day, however menial or mundane they may be. I just hate feeling as though I'm letting my kids down. It does make you realise your own mortality though, when you have something like this happen.

I'm thankful to friends and family for helping me when I really needed it. Like really needed it. I'm not one to ask for help as a general rule, unless there is no other alternative. I don't know why. I think that in my mind I feel as though to ask for help is a sign of weakness. But thinking about it like that I don't understand why I actually feel that way. Perhaps I never will.

Anyway, I guess I just popped on here to say I'm still here, a little worse for wear, but still here, and hoping that tomorrow may just shed some light upon the whole situation.

I will leave you with a Tabitha moment. It was cold the other night so I asked her, while she was in bed, if she wanted socks. She said yes. So I put socks on her, gave her a kiss goodnight, then left. I then heard repeated cries of mummy mummy mummy. Fearing she had hurt herself I rushed in, only to find her sitting upright in bed. "What is it Tabitha?" I said. "I want shoes." Makes sense I guess.