ISO and BP
BP went up to 202/116 on Friday night as my ankles swelled to elephantine proportions. No headaches but would not have been surprised if I had exploded. Took the methyldopa and it went down to 157/108 three hrs later. By morning, it went down to 144/98.
Told Paul abt this when I saw him today. His eyebrows went up at the measurements and we concluded that it was stress-fatigue related.
That day I had worked until 4pm despite usually knocking off at 12.30pm. It was ISO around the corner and I was feeling the heat. So busted my gut on the PC, chasing people for signatures, hammering out two articles for the web, formatting documents etc. No lunch until 2.30pm.
So no wonder the BP went up like a flare on the titanic...
I am SO not looking forward to tomorrow... more ISO chasing...
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
What a night!
The past few nights have been tiring - Owain has had this phlegmy cough for the past two weeks already. Seen the dr twice but cough/phlegm does not seem to clear. And the awful thing about this is that he coughs at night in his sleep and because it must be tickly/sticky type of phlegm, it chokes the boy and makes him gag. We've had our share of night-time puking in bed for the past 2 weeks.
It was ok when KH was here - he would be the one to jackknife up in bed, propel the boy up and let him cough/puke into his hand. It was harder for me because of my belly - slower response and by the time I sat up clumsily, the damage was done and the puke all over the bed. Not exactly my idea of night-time aromatherapy.
But like I always said, things tend to happen when the man is not around. Last night he had to go to Batam because of an early morning training session starting the next day. So I was alone last night with the kids.
Before we slept, Natalie Cole was on and Owain and Cait were dancing to L-O-V-E. Specifically, jumping on the bed. Next thing I knew I saw O do an accidental upside down jumping jack OFF the bed. He landed head first. The bang was phenomenal. You never saw a hugely pg woman move faster. I went: "Shit!" and dived down to grab him by the arms. His legs were sticking up and of course, the boy was yowling. But lucky fella didn't even have a bump, just a red spot.
That was incident number 1. Number 2 was a puking incident in the middle of the night. The puke went everywhere - the sheets, the comforter, my nightgown, his PJs. It was no joy cleaning up. And the smell!!
Incident number 3 was not a big deal, but the guy woke up just when I was inching myself off the bed to go take a pee. And howled the place down. Usually with KH around, he would yowl too but I was ok with it. But since no one was around, I carried him to the loo, sat on the can and put him on my lap while I did what I had to do.
Luckily KH will be back tonight.
The past few nights have been tiring - Owain has had this phlegmy cough for the past two weeks already. Seen the dr twice but cough/phlegm does not seem to clear. And the awful thing about this is that he coughs at night in his sleep and because it must be tickly/sticky type of phlegm, it chokes the boy and makes him gag. We've had our share of night-time puking in bed for the past 2 weeks.
It was ok when KH was here - he would be the one to jackknife up in bed, propel the boy up and let him cough/puke into his hand. It was harder for me because of my belly - slower response and by the time I sat up clumsily, the damage was done and the puke all over the bed. Not exactly my idea of night-time aromatherapy.
But like I always said, things tend to happen when the man is not around. Last night he had to go to Batam because of an early morning training session starting the next day. So I was alone last night with the kids.
Before we slept, Natalie Cole was on and Owain and Cait were dancing to L-O-V-E. Specifically, jumping on the bed. Next thing I knew I saw O do an accidental upside down jumping jack OFF the bed. He landed head first. The bang was phenomenal. You never saw a hugely pg woman move faster. I went: "Shit!" and dived down to grab him by the arms. His legs were sticking up and of course, the boy was yowling. But lucky fella didn't even have a bump, just a red spot.
That was incident number 1. Number 2 was a puking incident in the middle of the night. The puke went everywhere - the sheets, the comforter, my nightgown, his PJs. It was no joy cleaning up. And the smell!!
Incident number 3 was not a big deal, but the guy woke up just when I was inching myself off the bed to go take a pee. And howled the place down. Usually with KH around, he would yowl too but I was ok with it. But since no one was around, I carried him to the loo, sat on the can and put him on my lap while I did what I had to do.
Luckily KH will be back tonight.
The last time
As parents, I think our lives are filled with firsts and lasts, with significant dates, with milestones. The first time the baby smiled, the first laugh, the first turn, first crawl, first step, first word etc.
But here's a milestone I never thought about until now when it was way too late.
When was the last time I carried my babies in my arms?
Looking at my children, now 10, 8 going on 9... when was the last time I carried them as a toddler, child, baby? When did I put them down for the last time and never realised it was the last time?
Did I think to myself, how heavy and how big they are getting? How old were they? What was the occasion? Was it something as innocuous as sitting them up on the counter for a drink of Ribena? Or carrying a warm, sleep-filled body from the car?
The first time I carried them of course, I will never forget. Straight after birth, as their warm, wet slippery bodies slide from mine - straight onto my belly and into my arms. How I marvelled at their features, their birth so euphoric. That one could never forget.
Yet the last time I would carry them as a baby should be no less important. And yet I can't remember it.
One fine day, I carried them for the last time, put them down on their feet, watched them go on their way and that was it.
Why was this milestone never consciously recorded in my mind?
Oh sure, I still have other babies, one still yet to be born. And for now at least I will consciously remember to note THIS milestone. But as time passes and in the ordinariness of the day to day, I am sure I will forget.
And one day I will sit down and think: when was the time when I really, finally held my babies as babies, for the last time?
And by then, they would have all grown up and my arms would be permanently empty, without that familiar ache.
As parents, I think our lives are filled with firsts and lasts, with significant dates, with milestones. The first time the baby smiled, the first laugh, the first turn, first crawl, first step, first word etc.
But here's a milestone I never thought about until now when it was way too late.
When was the last time I carried my babies in my arms?
Looking at my children, now 10, 8 going on 9... when was the last time I carried them as a toddler, child, baby? When did I put them down for the last time and never realised it was the last time?
Did I think to myself, how heavy and how big they are getting? How old were they? What was the occasion? Was it something as innocuous as sitting them up on the counter for a drink of Ribena? Or carrying a warm, sleep-filled body from the car?
The first time I carried them of course, I will never forget. Straight after birth, as their warm, wet slippery bodies slide from mine - straight onto my belly and into my arms. How I marvelled at their features, their birth so euphoric. That one could never forget.
Yet the last time I would carry them as a baby should be no less important. And yet I can't remember it.
One fine day, I carried them for the last time, put them down on their feet, watched them go on their way and that was it.
Why was this milestone never consciously recorded in my mind?
Oh sure, I still have other babies, one still yet to be born. And for now at least I will consciously remember to note THIS milestone. But as time passes and in the ordinariness of the day to day, I am sure I will forget.
And one day I will sit down and think: when was the time when I really, finally held my babies as babies, for the last time?
And by then, they would have all grown up and my arms would be permanently empty, without that familiar ache.
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