I’m not sure how I’m finding time to do this; blame Catholic guilt and the Protestant work ethic and classic distractionary (is that a word?) tactics. Also, it’s been months since my last update and a chat with a good friend a couple of nights ago at my farewell drinks (see how casually I slipped that in there?) has prompted me to make the effort.
(Plus my eldest has just started her own blog, which is brilliant, and has inspired me.)
Short version is that the last couple of months has been a blinding blur of Things That Must Be Done because, after 27 insane, wonderful, bizarre, crazy, frustrating, mad years in Hong Kong, I am finally upping sticks and moving… to Wymondham, a tiny little village in the countryside on the outskirts of Norwich, England.
“Where the hell is that?” I hear you ask. Wiki handily describes it thusly:
Wymondham (pronounced ‘Windham’) is an historic market town and civil parish in the English county of Norfolk. It lies 9.5 miles (15 km) to the south west of the city of Norwich, on the A11 road from Norwich to London. Wymondham’s most famous inhabitant was Robert Kett (or Ket), who led a rebellion in 1549 of peasants and small farmers in protest at the enclosure of common land. He took a force of almost unarmed men and fought for and held the City of Norwich for six weeks until defeated by the King’s forces. He was hanged from Norwich Castle for his troubles.
Then there was the Great Fire in 1615 and since then, pretty much nothing has happened… until now, presumably, when August 2013 heralds the arrival of the Clan Miao-Chan (and cats).
The ‘why’ of Wymondham in the course of my life is simple: my youngest has got herself a place at a lovely, quintessentially English school in the area to do her A levels. The ‘how’ is far less picturesque and much more complex and exhausting, as I tackle moving companies, pet transport companies, bank accounts, mortgage applications, UK estate agents, landlords who will (or, as more often not) accept cats in their property, work, internet connections, furniture deliveries, selling off whatever I am not shipping over, juggling 1,001 different things and demands and people and the Inland Revenue and MPF claims and utilities companies *argh*
And now I’ve completely lost track of where I was heading with all that.
Anyhoo. Have seen my rheumy a couple of times in the last few months and all things are much of a muchness. Funny thing about all the meds is that often, I am completely unaware that I am in the middle of a flare until I get claw-hand, my toes start hurting, my shoulder seizes up or my knee starts ‘cracking’ every time I move. The knee thing puzzled me until I finally worked out that what must be happening is that the joint is so inflamed that the patella (kneecap) literally gets pushed out of alignment and the cracking is my poor old knee trying desperately to get things back where they should be.
The hair loss seems to have stopped, my Wednesday “post-Big-Pill-Night-Tuesdays” nausea seems to have subsided, but I have noticed problems with my vision. Is it because of the Plaquenil? Or the aging process as my eyes switch from short-sightedness to long-sightedness? As much as my glasses seem increasingly inadequate to cope with the massive demands now being placed on them, I can’t keep changing them at the drop of a hat… not at HK$3,000 a pop each time.
I am hoping that once I get to Blighty, I can find myself a rheumy who’s willing to consider alternative treatments; in other words, those which don’t involve the massive chemical load that I am currently putting on my systems. I am particularly interested in finding out more about cannabinoids, which seem, by all accounts, a miracle treatment for many progressive and chronic diseases.
Between now and then, I am flat out like a lizard drinking (a fantastic saying which I believe originates from that most splendid country, Australia) trying to keep up with all the things which Must Be Done. But as I keep reminding myself, by 7 August 2013, everything that Must Be Done will Have To Have Been Done, so that is the light at the end of the tunnel on which I am setting my sights.