Tag / humour

by ChronicWriter

“But you’re ‘just a receptionist’ what do you know?”

16 gems from the life of a Receptionist…

  1. I eye-roll 3,496 times a day and Facepalm 1,569 times also. facepalm
  2. I make frequent use of the ‘hold’ button.
  3. I get excited over new stationery.                   LOL
  4. When you’re shouting down the phone at me, it doesn’t make me want to help you more.
  5. I’m an all-day grazer. My desk is covered in snacks. cream-cake.jpg
  6. I’m more embarrassed by your ‘embarrassing story’ than you are. smiley
  7. We’re not all 1 person. As much as I’d love to I can’t physically, emotionally, willingly- answer the phone, sit at the front desk, be the Dr’s secretary, filing and do admin.
  8. There are times when I release a string of profanity as soon as you hang up.
  9. I don’t have a magic wand, and no one is more gutted about that than I am. I can’t magic appointments out of thin air.    IMG_0209
  10. It’s exhausting being smiley and upbeat all day long. Most days I manage to leave my shit at the door. Most days…
  11. This is my job, my career. I am a professional receptionist. This isn’t a stop-gap while I’m home at uni.
  12. Saying the words: “Just-a-receptionist” is a sure-fire way of pissing me off and it will earn you either an eye-roll or “WTF” face.
  13. A sense of humour is VITAL in this job. bow
  14. It will be very tense prior to the annual CQC visit. IMG_0291
  15. Nothing makes me feel more like I’m exactly in the right place more than hearing a “Thank-you for you help” or seeing someone’s bad day ease just by providing a caring, compassionate response to a person’s bad time. IMG_0150
  16. TGIF                                              img_0218.jpg
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by ChronicWriter

Things I wish I’d said Vol.1

safety-pin-lips-things-i-nver-said

Things I wanted to say but never did:

  1. There are more important things in life than making sure your eyebrows are symmetrical. I’m sure the feller running late for work, or the overworked carer just finished from a night shift, or the mother juggling a lunchbox, book-bag, P.E. kit and a whiney child on the school run- have all failed to notice your wobbly brows. Relax. 
  2. Don’t think I didn’t catch that, you’re not subtle. -Responding to every person and their facial expression after they hear the age difference between my husband and I (FYI, it’s 16 years and IDGAF – he’s a GOD). We neither want nor need your approval.
  3. No I don’t like drinking and if that makes me boring, I’m fine with that. But good for you and your 6th glass of JD- crack on. I’m happy being out, with my Coke- I don’t feel sad and you don’t have to pity me or pressure me into a vodka shot. Thanks though, and good luck with your hangover.
  4. I don’t have my life figured out yet and I don’t have a 5 Year plan. Does this make me anxious? Sometimes, yes. But you’re not making it any easier by mentioning it or looking at me with “poor you” eyes.
  5. Did you forget we all went to the same school? Yes I was there, witnessing your Tango years and seeing you bully others less confident than yourself. Remember that before you look down your nose at me from the top of your ridiculously high heels.
  6. “Have you tried…? What about…? That tablet is crap…” – Yes, please tell me how you’re going to cure my chronic illness, and please list all the things I’ve already tried while I smile and nod with my mouth tight shut (I know you mean well)
  7. I am 26 years old. I know to look both ways before crossing a road, I know not to talk to strangers and I always take care (thank you Grandad, ILY). You don’t need to remind me to drive safe or eat plenty of vegetables, I have managed to live this long without (too much) mishap.
  8. I should not be labelled a hermit, shut-in, shy or introverted just because I spend all day inside, in my room, reading a book. I like spending time by myself. This is not a cue for intervention, I do not need to get out, be forced into social gatherings or be dragged on a brisk walk for fresh air. I’m fine.
  9. And whilst I’m about books- Yes, I am reading a ‘saucy’ book and it’s bloody fantastic. As my husband calls it: “Porn without Pictures.” Allow me to lend you a copy so you can remove that stick from your butt and join the rest of womankind who are also on the Fifty Shades Train (Most of us have been riding for a while, and we shouldn’t be ashamed of it anymore!)
  10. Don’t ask me to explain how I got that bruise. I don’t need a safe word. I am just clumsy. I can laugh at myself, please laugh with me- not at me!
  11. “You don’t want more than 1 baby?” As if it’s an easy thing to do?! It’s basically making a person! Unfortunately, for some women it isn’t as easy as A, B, C. Please be more considerate.
  12. Don’t pass judgement on my diet. Yes, I like chicken nuggets and smiley faces and ketchup. I know this sounds like the diet of a toddler, but I also like spinach and Brussels sprouts too. Just not as much as I loooooove cake.
  13. “It’s been a nightmare, are you sure you want kids?” Of course I’m sure, this decision wasn’t made after hearing that baby-making is super fun and motherhood is a breeze! Neither will it be swayed by an awful afternoon of tantrums and smelly nappies.
  14. “You can have mine!” Don’t say this, because next time I’ll show up at your front door with adoption papers and a bottle of fizz.
  15. It was not my intention to offend with this list. I have to right to Freedom of Speech. A fact I must remember the next time someone offends me with their ignorance, arrogance or lack of consideration.

“If you are always trying to be NORMAL you will never know how AMAZING you can be.” -Maya Angelou

 

by ChronicWriter

LOL S1 Ep2

I apologise in advance if this is too honest/too gross/too cringey for your delicate eyes.

This is the 2nd episode in my LOL stories – I hope it lightens your day.

Read, laugh and try not to judge me too much.

I am 3 days post-op. I am on my period and grumpy. I have the stomach of a heavily pregnant lady; only it’s not a baby, it’s just swelling. I’m feeling grotty and I’m in pain.

 

On this morning, my husband is up for work. It’s 6am and he’s passed me my hot water bottle and pulled the covers back over me. He’s downstairs somewhere, sleepy and drinking tea.

And suddenly, I’m awake. I’m running to the bathroom with awful stomach cramps. I sit on the toilet and grimace as I get rid of everything (including my spleen and a lung). I’m hurting and a little bit overwhelmed. I’m sitting with my head in my hands, feeling awful and cursed.

As if I need this right now?!

And that’s how I’m sat as I hear my husband climb the stairs and walk down the hallway. He knocks and with concern in his voice, he says: “Are you okay, bab-?”

Only I cut him off and scream at the closed door “DON’T COME IN HERE!!! DON’T COME IN!”

Jesus, I can’t let him in here. After all the other shit he’s had to deal with and all the talk about periods and babies he’s had to listen to and all my crazy mood swings he’s had to accept whilst trying this contraceptive or that hormone injection. I just couldn’t let him in.

Like the loving husband that he is, he opened the door just a crack; just wide enough to see me sat on the loo with my jama’s around my ankles, head in my hands, taking deep breaths as I fought to hold back sobs. He quietly closed the door and waited until I was done before going to work- tucking me back into bad and kissing my forehead before he left.

Don’t worry- this “aww!” moment was not lost on me. No matter how much pain I’m in or how much crap (in this case, literally) I have to deal with, I am still so grateful to have him. I appreciate him and how much he looks after me when I’m poorly.

 

Anyway…

So I had a horrendous toilet experience, luckily I wasn’t having to travel to the hospital and had the luxury of locking myself away in my own bathroom.

And before you ask- no this is not the end of the story. If you can believe it- it gets worse.

After hiding in bed for a few more hours, I pull myself together and head for a shower. Everything pretty normal so far. Only- I felt something, not quite right, down there. I thought: Well I’ve got Endo on my bowel, it’s probably pretty pissed off after being traumatised this morning. And shrugged it off.

I felt lots better after a shower. I got dressed (at this point, by ‘dressed’ I mean put on clean loungewear/jammies) and decided to make a brew. And still I knew something wasn’t right. Something was new, different. Whilst the kettle boiled I headed to the bathroom to investigate.

I had what seemed like a growth/lump/parasite on my bum. Well this is new.

There was a small voice in the back of mind telling me I knew exactly what it was. I slapped it around the face to shut it up. Can I get a break- PLEASE?!  No, I can’t have haemorrhoids; not on top of everything else I have to deal with right now. My body hates me.

 But how could I be sure? My curiosity got the better of me.

Continue reading →

by ChronicWriter

Thank you Anna Smith

For women with Endometriosis, living life as normally as possible is a struggle. With chronic pain so severe and heavy irregular periods, it is easy for life to get us down.

After I’ve had a sucky time and I am over the initial trauma of an appointment, diagnosis, surgery- I try to find something about it to laugh at. I know I shouldn’t, illness is serious but I regularly use this as a coping mechanism and make light of my illness.

Humour can be as uplifting as opioids if you use it properly.

And so, this is the first of many LOL moments, coming up on my blog. Be assured- I will spare no details, no matter how embarrassing, and hope to hell you don’t judge me. Enjoy

 

Last week, on a grey morning, I woke up with a sad feeling. I was grumpy and just couldn’t brush it off. There’s no point in dressing this up as something else. I was mardy and tired and feeling sorry for myself. So I tried my cure-all, feel better Go-To’s:

  • I had a cup of tea and dunker biscuits in bed- No
  • I watched the original Ghostbusters film (Bill Murray is a sure way to make me smile)- Nope
  • I had a scolding hot bath with a Lush bath bomb, I soaked until I was pruney & short of breath from the steam- Nothing

With a determination I’d not seen in weeks, I got out of the bath and dressed quickly. Trying to put socks on and hold my phone to my ear is not easy and, being clumsy like I am, I stumbled more than once as I waited for my mum to answer her phone.

“Mum, it’s me – Yeah, no, I’m fine – I need you to come get me – Soon, like 10 minutes? – We’re going to town, to King’s – I need to buy a bag.”

As you can see, this needed action. This mood had to do one. And in order for that to happen, I needed a handbag. Needless to say, my mum (being the treasure that she is) dropped everything.

Me and mum went to a local boutique-with-café in my town and I immediately headed for the bag section. Usually, it is chocka with homeware and ornaments- things that I’d break just looking at them. But at this time, the owners were making way for their Christmas stock. That in itself is exciting! It’s like a frigging grotto in their every Christmas, soon be time to put my tree up! This lightened my mood considerably and I’d not set my sights on a single bag yet.

I found one. She’s an Anna Smith tote. I carried her around the shop like a small baby while I browsed. I held her in my lap as I waited for coffee. I paid £42 for her and that is money-well-spent as far as I’m concerned!
There is nothing more satisfying for a bag-lover, than transferring your things out of your old bag and into a new one. Filling all the pockets with my stuff, forgetting that in a month everything will be dumped in and I’ll have to wade through a pile of old receipts and wrappers and leaflets.

Girls, I needed this bag. Not only to make me feel better, but since I now have to take a ton of stuff with me everywhere I go- I need a bigger, hardier bag. Obviously I have all the usual suspects: purse, keys, glasses, pen, notebook, diary, gum, perfume/deodorant. But now that I have the reproductive system with a mind of its own I also have to carry: about 3000 pads, a heat pad, spare knickers, and a small pouch of pain meds (which I’m sure would get me arrested if I was searched by police!)

I can fit all of my baggage into this tote bag. Just call me Mary Poppins.

It can be hard being a girl. But it’s a nightmare being a girl with Endometriosis.

So we deserve handbags. Thank you Anna Smith.