C’est La Vie

I’m a bit gutted at the moment, Reese is off to Scotland tomorrow so I won’t get to see her for a bit. She also said something in the car which contributed to my feelings of guttedness too, although it wasn’t anything new.

Mummy said I can’t sleep over at your house because it’s too small.

Of course, that’s not the real reason, but at her age it’s probably the most appropriate thing you could tell her.

Along with night terrors, it turns out that ‘sleep cooking’ is also a thing

The other night I’d got up and cooked a tin of sausages and beans (the one’s they make for children) with some toast. I even managed to grate some cheese to neatly sprinkle over the top of it, all whilst I was sleep walking.

The truly disturbing thing was that everything was cooked and tidied up in a far neater and tidier manner than if I’d been awake. Yes, evidently it turns out ‘sleep Mikey’ is more organised than awake Mikey. Remarkable.

Obviously that’s not the worry for her if she were to spend the night with me, the issue is around the terrifying nightmares I get. I wouldn’t forgive myself if I exposed her to that.

I’m not one for dwelling on anything or thinking I’m any kind of victim, I’m truly thankful, happy and blessed to be where I am in my life now. Just every now and then I find it useful to write about the issue I have with not getting the time I want with Reese.

 

Being out in the real world reminds me how different I am though. #nofilter 

On the a ward today:

“There goes the pain nurse, I can’t remember her name though” one nurse told me

“I don’t know it either, I’ve never met her” I retorted

Alas, that didn’t stop me from yelling the first thing that came into my head to get her attention. It had happened before I even knew what I was doing.

The words...PAIN NURSE! …escaped my lips before I even realised I’d shouted it. The whole ward (which consisted of SHO’s, a consultant, I think the surgical team and a few junior doctors, not to mention lots of nurses and patients) stopped what they were doing and looked up at the heavily-tattooed, fake tanned, short haired bloke attempting to pass himself of as a nurse flailing about shouting in the middle of a busy children’s ward.

The wonderful thing is that I am the future of nursing in the NHS. Now that’s something to have night terrors about.

C’est La Vie

 

 

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