Bruised not broken

 I have had a rather impressive bruise on my inner wrist due to a fall at roller derby practice that my wrist guards no doubt helped the bruise but also prevented me breaking my wrist. I showed it off to my new form, telling them I explicitly wanted some sympathy. It was great to get out of my own head and while we practiced jumping in roller skates I felt a beautiful freedom from the worries of life and replaced them with a fear of falling. But I'd really missed it for the week off - and speaking of missing I was so pleased to get back to choir after the Easter break. Both such good releases for my woes. 

School was hard work, it really doesn't matter how long you've been teaching, children will test your limits. I'm ashamed to say there was some shouting this week, but I mainly used my very disappointed face and waiting, this got most of the classes quiet enough to at least do something. And the phone calls home might help things improve. I'm always so sad when I know it probably won't. It wasn't completely awful and I once again felt supported by staff around me. I had some amusing moments and my form are quickly getting used to me and me them. I was amused by the Head of Physics asking me if I taught at Kingsmead, yes I happily replied expecting him to say we may have worked together there, but no, I was his drama teacher when he was in year 7! He has 2 children. Man I felt old. 

Due to the appointment I once again had the pleasure of coming home to my mum on Tuesday. We tried a new take away place nearby and mum and I enjoyed the stroll to it, cool box at hand and had a lovely evening, this time not watching a rubbish film. 

We set off the next morning to The London Royal, the familiar route bringing back a range of memories for all of us, different ones of course. Heading there to see dad, to see me, to a place that holds an almost spiritual significance. Walking through the corridor to the lifts that you have to choose the floor before you get in felt so ordinary and yet we have stood in those lifts with worry and fear and relief. As we strolled past the waiting room where I sat as I was being discharged from having been in hospital for a month and up past the floor I recovered from my first kidney operation to the one my dad and I both recovered in for brain and spine related surgery. I reminded us that everyone we love who has been in has come out alive and, we agreed, healthier than when they came in. And there on the 11th floor we sat ready to meet with Mr B but as he was in emergency surgery and so, after an hour or so we were sent off to come back later that day. We made the most of our time and went for some lovely Turkish meze and saw a little more of what the area looks like now. When back, we waited longer and chatted to other patients waiting, it helps the time pass. Once in with Mr Bmthe conversation was straightforward and honest. He would have had to say some very compelling reasons for me not to have surgery. There are risks if I don't and I don't like the uncertainty of waiting until I have symptoms. Ultimately I believe that the Drs will do their very best and I hope that means a short stay and a full recovery over the summer break. We won't know until I wake up, and even then it depends on how my body has responded to surgery. I know we all then just have to wait. The main surgical concern is that they have to go through my dorsal column. I didn't know I had one of those - we all do and it doesn't like being poked. We've provisionally booked for July. Which is sooner than that sounds. 

The journey home was a frustrating mix of suspended train lines, buses that filled with 50 5 year olds in high vis and exasperated teachers. It was a hot day and all I wanted to be was home to think and cry if necessary. That evening BigA had arranged a BBQ with our neighbours and it was good to get to know them better and enjoy another go at his corn on the cob and lovely food cooked on charcoal. 

The next morning I gave mum a cup of tea and we had a little chat before I went to work. I felt a little unsettled but the best thing about the job is that it totally takes you out of your personal thoughts, no time to dwell or worry when you're trying to manage a class of 30 children who seem to collectively be incapable of moving or listening without talking. One little yr 7 exclaiming that he agreed with me, he does have to say everything that he thinks as soon as he thinks it. 

Mum had taken the girls for a greasy-spoon breakfast again and I was ever so slightly jealous. I miss her being here, I know we'd soon get fed up with one another, but I do like having her around. 

I was delighted to remember that I had a 4 day weekend coming up and once home, into the arms of my handsome husband we chatted in the garden and then I washed off the school smell and headed off to see my dear pal. We ate delicious food and I had a couple of pints in the evening sun, we walked home through a park, enjoying the contentment that comes with a full chat. 

On my day off I did a couple of loads of washing and exercised a bit, read my book, cooked dinner and enjoyed the slow pace I had become very fond of during my suspension and yesterday evening another pal came over and we jigsawed and laughed.