Not. Happy. Jan.

So I had a corker of a weekend. Something worth blogging about! Yay me.

Two groups within our building had been planning a 'friendly' soccer match. It got cancelled because of the weather, rescheduled, cancelled... you get the picture. Finally, after about a month and a half, it was game on. Most of my close friends were on the team, so of course I headed down to watch.

It was not friendly. But it was hell fun to watch. Then we headed back to work for the real fun... free beer.

Yep. FREE BEER.

How anti diet. I started on light. That lasted all of about, oh, one beer. Then I started on the heavies. Slowly people began to filter off as the night wore on. The food was eaten, and before long it was me and a friend of mine, playing pool, finishing the last of the bevvies.

We headed to the pub. More drinking ensued. He was flirty, as was I, I imagine. A few beers and I'm anyones. I have some vague recollections of meeting new people (who's names I figured out this morning), having them buy me rounds. I bitched about my (endlessly messy) roomie. I tried to convince people to go to a strip club in the cross. Which resulted in a very manly conversation about how awesome boobs were - with a girl, who was also straight. That in turn became questions about whether I was straight or not. I remember watching my mate play pool. It was cold. He disappeared, as did I about 20 minutes later. I figure I had about 12 beers under my belt.

Ew. Anti diet.

So I headed off. Trundled myself from the pub near work and headed home. I boarded my train. Only to feel instantly queasy. I tried to stay awake. In vain. I fell asleep.

I woke up wondering where the hell I was. It didn't look like any station I knew. It wasn't. I'd slept past my stop. And the eight ones after that too. Landing myself in the middle of a really, really bad part of Sydney. Fuuuccckkk.

I stumbled off the train hoping to catch one heading back in the other direction. Nobody around. I walk outside the station. There is an old guy closing up his newsagency. I ask him what platform to catch the city bound trains at. He just looks at me... no more trains this late, catch a bus.

I swear, I have never sobered up so fast in my life. There I was, bad neighborhood, drunk, cold, alone... vulnerable. Rape had gone beyond a possibility and into a liklihood.

I rang a guy friend of mine. We are (now were) really close, and he lived a suburb over. His phone rang out. I didn't know if he was asleep or screening calls. I rang back immediately. Still no response.

Shiiit. I rang another mate of mine. She'd been on the piss but I was desperate. I told her where I was, and that trains weren't running any more. She told me to wait where I was, and she was heading out the door immediately.

I sat myself at the base of the stairs, drunk, cold, alone... vulnerable.

Every 5 minutes a car would go past. Some slowed down and stared. A few yelled shit out the window. One car pulled up to wait for someone. A taxi pulled up across the road and the driver sat and stared at me. I was grateful for the waiting car. The taxi driver stared at me for what felt like a lifetime. Finally he pulled out. I texted Dee to see how long she'd be. She told me 10 minutes. She was there in 4.

I scrambled into the car, freezing and coughing my lungs up, but safe. I managed to get home at 2.30am. Dee didn't let me give her a goodbye hug. I was sick.

I spoke to the first person I'd called today. Turns out the stupid arsehole was screening my calls. Screening multiple calls from a platonic friend who never ever rang him, in the early hours of the morning. Surely that would send alarm bells ringing?

Updatage

So its been 2 weeks since the last post. Things are looking reasonably good. But I'll give the run down as things happened.

I was down here for 4 days before I headed back to Sydney. I wasn't really ready to go, but my uncle had to head back, and I'd gotten a ride with him, so I kind of had to. Plus Dad was reasonably stable, but still constantly sedated. And I needed to get back to some sort of routine to keep me as sane as possible.

Now, sane as possible really means functional. I stopped eating, and when I did eat it was a continual thing. Then I'd get nauseous and throw it all up again. I'd get panic attacks, want to sleep all the time if I wasn't working, and my libido has disappeared. My first day back at work was really rough. I was there for a week and for the remainder of the time, I was fixing simple mistakes I'd made on that first day back.

Dad had an MRI on Monday or Tuesday. It showed some damage to the area that controls motor control, cognition, speech, emotions, and learning.

On Wednesday the doctors asked permission to do a tracheostomy. This was done on Thursday, and he was left under sedation for the remainder of the day.

On Friday they let him come out from sedation. And he's been up ever since. I found out mid-morning and immediately arranged to head down for the whole of the next (which is really this) week. I was a bit scared because he seemed unresponsive. And we didn't know if it was because of the coma or the brain damage.

I got in Saturday night and went straight to the hospital. I felt bad because I was shocked and relieved at the improvement, and I started crying, and Dad seemed upset. He seemed to have difficulty focusing, and I didn't know how long that would last for, or if it would ever go away.

Since then he's been coming ahead in leaps and bounds. He still has the trach tube in, so can't really talk. But he did laugh at the fact that I have to wait til payday to be able to afford the trip back. He spoke to me today through the trach tube. I asked him how he was and he said 'yeah, good'. Lying bugger. I don't know how he'll go with recovery. He seems very weak, and he is in pain, serious pain. But he is moving around and lifting his ams. The nurse was amazed at how he's doing. The speech patholigist was there today, doing tests on his swallowing reflex. He may be able to have solid food this afternoon. Well, as solid as squishy processed fruit gets.

Its a relief to know that even though he's going to do it tough, he's still the same person inside. Pretty good to see it, considering the news I got 2 weeks ago.

****FURTHER UPDATAGE**** Dad got moved into rehab today. He's out of hospital wards altogether. woot!

Living Horror

The past few days have been hell on an epic scale. Dad's in ICU. He went in for a routine surgery. A knee reconstruction. He's had one before, with no complications. This time he had epic complications. At 5am yesterday, he was found not breathing, with a blood pressure so low it could barely register. Doctors took 45 minutes to resuscitate him. During that time he vomited and inhaled quite a lot of it. When they managed to stabilise him they called his partner and told her to bring all of the family in.

I got a call on my way to work. Not knowing how bad it was, I waited to hear an assessment from my sister. She rang at 9.20 and told me to come straight away. They didn't know if he'd survive the day. I literally dropped what I was doing and left. I said goodbye to my direct superior, got changed and literally ran out the door. I rang the head of my department as I headed towards the train station.

11 hours of solid, gut wrenching travel ensued. With short breaks to pack, pee and eat a sandwich. I lost it packing my black dress. Absolutely chucked a foot stamping crying tanty. My Dad's only 60. He had his birthday last September. He didn't have grandkids. I'm 25. Too young to bury my dad.

I lost it driving to Canberra to meet my uncle. Remembering how I'd thought to call him on Sunday after the gym, but decided to do it later. Then remembering how I'd received a text from him on Monday telling me he was having surgery, and deciding to call him that night. Now it was Tuesday and I didn't know if I'd ever get to talk to him again. I was crying so hard that I could barely keep my eyes open, but I kept driving. I could not stop. I was well over the speed limit, but I didn't care. If I got a fine, but got home quicker, it would have been worth it. But even if I got pulled over I was reasonably sure I could cry my way out of it.

I lost it when I met my uncle. First family hug since hearing the news. My first words were 'I can't believe this is happening. It was all so fast. We drove down together.

He was still with us when we got to the hospital. I lost it when the doc explained what had happened. It seemed the immediate threat to his life had passed. But they didn't know how long he'd been without oxygen. And because it took so long to stabilise him, there was a 'possibility, more likely a probability' that he'd have brain impairment. They had no idea as to the extent. And his lungs weren't working properly, so his blood oxygen levels weren't high enough to support repair of any areas that had been affected.

This morning he was pretty much the same. But they did lighten his sedation enough to do some quick neuro checks. He can nod 'yes' and shake head 'no'. He can twitch his toes and squeeze hands when asked. We don't know if he can speak. He is still intubated. He remains on maximum life support, heavily sedated. They won't know about his brain function until they can take him to do brain scans, and right now he's too unstable to attempt to put him on a portable ventilator to take him to the scan.

We've been at the hospital all day. The past 2 days feel like a lifetime. Mum's tiny 3 bedroom house is housing 5 people. I'm sharing a bed with Mum and she's a snoring bed/blanket hog. Tonight I'm going to sleep on the floor. I'm tired. Emotionally drained and in need of a good cry and a very long sleep. I don't know if I can update here, but Kez can update in comments.

Do me a favour guys. If your parents are still around, give them a big hug for me. If they're too far away, please call them. They won't be here forever.

I'm baaack.

So I'm a dirty, dirty liar. I really was going to give up blogging, but this lettle juicy nugget was waaay to gold to leave alone.

I met someone. On findafuck. We'd spent about 3 weeks talking, emailing, texting, chatting. It was full on, all the time. We clicked. I liked him, he liked me. We had had cybersex. The tension was rife.

It took about 2 weeks to arrange a meet. Finally one night I was home, we wasn't busy. He came over.

And there is a whole world of problems that have arisen. All was going well, having heaps of fun, getting hot and heavy. Clothes come off. And nothing.

He couldn't get it up!

He was embarrassed. I took it in my stride. I mean, it happens. He put his clothes on and fled. I thought it could have been me. I mean, he was into me until the clothes came off.

I gave it a few days and sent him a message telling him I still enjoyed hanging out, and asking if he'd be interested in trying again. His response: yeah it was fun, but we didn't really 'click' after the movie.

WTF?!?

We didn't click? We didn't click sexually?!? How does he know we didn't click sexually? We didn't have sex!!!

So, if you don't have a comment on the above situation, I have to ask...

What's your biggest sex disaster?