Peekaboo!
...until, of course, I needed to vent my spleen. It's been quite a while, so in summary:-
1) Fibromyalgia plus residual endometriosis plus depression and anxiety plus neuropathic pain makes Jack a dull boy (allow myself to introduce myself, I'm Jack etc.)
2) Currently signed off work until January 2019 by the DWP and surprisingly classed by them as "severely disabled"
3) Employed by the NHS but they can't seem to bring themselves to recognise my disability or mental health issues (oh the irony, blah blah) and have in turn threatened to put my sickness down as unauthorised absence if my sick note didn't arrive within 24 hours of it being issued; and then made no contact with me for months on end, thus not following the company sickness policy in any way, shape or form
4) NHS now aware of my being signed off until next year, but would like a meeting with me to discuss getting me back to work "as soon as possible" (ain't happening until at least January 2019, when I then get reassessed, but hey-ho)
5) Currently have an open wound at the top of my right inner thigh which appeared in December 2018 when a lump popped up - and then quite literally popped. Have now had 5 courses of antibiotics; two rounds of I&D; a water infection; infectious gastroenteritis; and a wound that continually very nearly heals and then either becomes reinfected, or over-granulates. I've also had 2 separate instances of having the wound packed on a daily basis, and all the Nurses at my GP surgery are on first-name terms with me. Isn't that wizard...
6) Once again, I am supposedly in a relationship with someone (nearly 2 years now) who has promised me the world and then dropped me like a hot potato when something more important has happened in his life. Don't get me wrong, I do kind of understand the situation he is in; but I haven't seen him in person since January this year and he can't find time to even drop in for a half hour visit, despite living approximately 10 minutes away from me. I haven't spoken to him on the phone since then either (I have phoned him, but it always goes to answerphone and he never calls me back). I get a couple of messages on Facebook a day if I'm lucky, but somehow he still insists he loves me and he wants us to be together. I'm not quite sure whether I should have taken up knitting or something in the meantime, because apparently I'm supposed to sit here in limbo until his situation changes - which in reality looks unlikely to happen for at least a year. If I tell him I would like to see him or that I miss him and I'm finding it hard, he more or less ignores it. He tells me he is sorry and he loves me; and then move along, nothing to discuss. I find it disconcerting and discombobulating to have been seeing someone 4 nights a week who always wanted to know everything I was going through and wanted to support me and honestly really seemed to love me, to then having that whole support system whipped away from under my feet and be left with not even having the option of telling him my worries and problems anymore, as he now appreciates the fact that I don't share these things with him, as he has enough to deal with in his current situation. I've also had a couple of different friends tell me that the situation he is supposedly in right now is not actually true (and people that would know whether it was or not, not just random guesses). Thing is, I have questioned whether his situation is still ongoing, and he said yes. I feel like I have to take that as being the truth, because my hope springs eternal that he isn't lying about it just to avoid having to see me. Welcome to Ange's Limbo-world; population one.
There's a whole bunch of other stuff involved than my brief summary above as regards to this relationship. If I start going on about it in this post, I'll still be here in 2 days' time and you'll all want to hunt me down and punch me in the boobs for making your eyes bleed. I fear a whole separate post will be needed for it. Alas, earwax as Dumbledore might say.
7) My cat officially has feline dementia. My maternal Grandmother and Great-Grandmother both had dementia, amongst other family members too numerous to mention (none of whom were cats, I hasten to add). It's just bloody everywhere. I'm sick of losing family to it, let alone my kitty. I will have been with her for 16 years this May, bless her. She's completely forgotten how to use litter trays (she's an indoor cat) and of course can't relearn it, as she'll only forget it again. I have no problem cleaning up after her but I do wish certain people would stop telling me that I may have to have her put down because of it. To paraphrase that actor numpty Heston, "You will have to prise this cat from my cold dead hands"
Other than that, I'm still bimbling on. It's not always easy and this chronic pain condition means I'm lucky if I can get out of bed every day. But I'm still here.