After feeling great for, what, 2-3 weeks there was a period of annoying stuff to deal with, pissing me off quite a bit as I have written about but then......
The FW had a couple of frustratingly annoying days too. Then on Wednesday it reached a pitch when he came back early from Aquatherapy (catching me about to tuck in to a nice plate of scrambled eggs on toast - ooops) and I am guessing he hadn't booked in the week before. It's only a small class and is very popular. His face was bright red so I suspect he was embarrassed in public (not a good thing) he went straight to the cabin and stayed there for hours. I felt very disturbed and surprisingly guilty. God knows why, but I have that sort of conscience even if I have done nothing. Later when he surfaced his face was a mess, I think he had been crying.
The next day he went early to the doc to get an appointment (later that day he had his kidney ultrasound (all well there). The appointment was to sort out one of his tablets and "to talk about what happened yesterday" - !!-
When he came back he said (and I want you to imagine me standing there ENRAGED, and not showing it) "I have depression". What the fucking fuck!!!! How dare he!! Apparently he was diagnosed then and there (I told him with a breaking voice I had had to wait 8 fucking months for my diagnosis) which he was quite dismissive about, and when I said what about the questionnaires, to which he replied "well I did that and my score was low", which goes to show he is talking bollocks especially when he read out his sick note which said he had 'low mood'.
How dare he jump on my bandwagon. I had forgotten that nasty little trait. Barely 10 days since I had to come clean due to the stupid letter which after all was a (kind of) rejection letter.
In the days when the stinky boys were at school and I worked in a factory office with a bunch of stinky men, including one who used to sneeze in his hand then use my phone! I used to get a couple of colds a season, he would always announce he had a cold moments after I had said I had one, this 'cancelled' mine out, thereby relieving him of the chore of a) looking after the kids, b) looking after me, and therefore, c) being looked after himself.
There were a couple of times I had gastric flu (oh God, the memories of the pain and fever and vomiting) and he still used to fuck off to the pub leaving me to take care of myself and the small children too. (Not to mention leaving me to manage with a newborn and Caesarean wound three times and getting annoyed by my groans with unbearable pelvic/lower back pain in two pregnancies).
Nowadays I get a cold about once every two years and a 'flu every 5 years, yeah lucky me, no lurgies to take me to bed and be looked after. Great. Thanks.
I have to get my arse to the doc at some point (still have not had the bloody blood test) and I will have to ask whether it was possible to be given a diagnosis of depression there and then.
Funnily enough he is now happily working in the garden, channelling the Chelsea Flower Show with plants and watering systems magically appearing without the need for money. How strange!
I enjoyed Eurovision, and the daughter watched with me (first time ever yippee).
PS - Have had to admit to eldest son about blog 'tho not what it is called, he absolutely cracked up when I told him about the moniker 'The Fuckwit'. I thought he was going to choke on his sandwich!!!
PPS I may change his name to Shithead.