A bit about me… I am mostly a funny, upbeat person, that laughs often and tries not to cry in front of people.  This, lately, has been unsuccessful, and holding it in has stressed me out so more people than I care to count have seen me break and recover just to break again.  For this, I am 1000 times sorry, although I know you all want to be there for me.

So… the last two and a half years of my life have been an epic roller coaster.  I was told I possibly had PCOS and may not have children with IVF.  At the age of 28, this sucked a little.  As I had no immediate plans for children, however, I got on with the business of living and figured I would see what the possibilities were after managing it for a while.  I finally found a second home in theatre in Townsville (yay!) and I broke up with my ex, S (boo).  I found D (yay!) and things were good for a few months.  D and I were (sickeningly) happy and going well.  I thought I had found ‘the one’.  Then we got the shock of a lifetime.  I was pregnant.  Scared the living bejesus out of both of us and we weren’t sure we’d survive it.  I then went and played my last game of basketball, went down like a ton of potatoes, snapping my ACL (can anyone say words that would make a sailor blush?).  This meant D was stuck with a girlfriend battling morning sickness, and a destroyed knee I couldn’t walk on, in masses of pain I couldn’t control thanks to not being allowed any real drugs.  Panadol?  PANADOL?  Really folks?  So we got through the next month, and actually got used to the idea that some poor little sucker had us for parents.  Then, another round of tragedy struck.  I had a miscarriage.  And not just a little drama (I by no means want to make light of miscarriages, they are AWFUL) but a BIG drama.  We were at the cinema watching Step Up 3 (D was so impressed… NOT) and babysitting a 13yo.  Apparently bub was unimpressed as well and went for the early exit.  At the cinema.  So we drove to my dad’s house, which was closest.  By then I had lost an incredible amount of blood and was a little delirious, cracking completely inappropriate jokes while bleeding on my dad’s driveway.  Ambulance called.  I then got to the hospital just in time for my blood pressure to hit rock bottom.  I woke up being wheeled into emergency surgery.  On the plus side, it was the first time I’d ever remembered D’s mobile number off the top of my head!  So my stay of three days, and subsequent blood transfusion, ruled out any possibility of children in the near future, and made D realise how much he loved me and was not willing to lose me.  Put me on the backburner for a while.  Anyone lost 2+ litres of blood before?  Its sucks the lifeforce out of you.  A load of washing would put me lights out for a few hours for nearly three months.

As if this wasn’t enough, not long after this episode, D suffered a seizure in his sleep. He was diagnosed as epileptic although his scans showed no ‘epileptic episodes’.  After much prompting (read: nagging) he was booked in for a sleep apnoea test.  He snored like a freight train and I knew there was a problem when I got used to the noise, and started waking up when it was too quiet.  Lo and behold, he suffered from severe apnoea.  He thought I might not want someone so broken anymore.  Hello?  Faulty uterus and control issues anyone?  Over the next year or so, he suffered several more seizures while his doctors struggled to balance medication.

Finally, at the start of this year, we had some luck.  We found a new neurologist who was well versed in the connections between sleep-apnoea and assumed epilepsy.  He agreed that all of D’s issues stemmed from his sleep apnoea and we could start weaning him off the incredibly nasty epilepsy meds.  YAY!

At the beginning of June, I moved to Brisbane without D.  He was looking after my dog Charlie and my house full of stuff until I found us somewhere permanent to live.  Tears and hugs and stuff followed and I left the love of my life in Townsville.  A week later we had great news that the new medication was up to speed and he could wean off the nasty one; and in about 6 months, he could wean off medication completely!  HUZZAH!

Then on the 29th June 2012 my world as I knew it threw me into a backflip and I’m pretty sure I hit my head somewhere.  D was gone.  Police knocked on my door at about 9.00pm and told me that I would never see him again, he’d died.  If it wasn’t for my flatmate T I’m pretty sure I’d have collapsed where I stood.  My poor dad had found him at about 1.00pm and wasn’t allowed to call me because it had become a police investigation.  A number of factors were involved, none of them criminal, so it took about three hours to clear my house and sign off on paperwork.  My dad then had to sit and wait until he knew D’s parents and I had been informed.  D had had a seizure in his sleep that morning, and due to the complications of his seizures, it appears he wandered around my house in a daze completely unaware of his surroundings.  He tried to go through a door that doesn’t open, and accidentally cut himself on a glass panel in the door which shattered when he hit it.  The only relief I feel is that knowing what he is like after a seizure, he most likely wasn’t aware of what was happening.

I feel so much guilt, whether I should or not, that I wasn’t there.  I am slowly coming to terms with this and have good days and bad days.  I’m lucky that I have amazing friends, great workplace, and most importantly, the continuing love and support of D’s family.  My heart breaks for them as much as for myself.

So…. That’s my reasons behind beginning this blog.  It will move on from these reasons no doubt, but there is my story.  As depressing as it sounds.

I’m tough, and I will go on, and be happy.  And I thank D for everything he taught me about myself.  Love you bub and I’ll miss you forever.


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