Words of warning and welcome:

This is very much my blog, so don't be surprised if this doesn't follow accepted patterns and norms. Obviously it started out as a blog about my cross-dressing but it has developed a great deal since then. It is a place where I can be anonymous and honest, and I appreciate that.

It will deal with many things and new readers would do well to check out the New Readers' Page above this and the tag down there on the right. Although there's nothing too bad in here there will be adult language, so be careful. If you think this needs a greater control, please let me know. Thank you!

Sunday, 21 December 2014

Plan Omega

Interesting, male quote but female image. Feminism is
everywhere!
I have been struck by a few posts on this subject of late and been ruminating on it myself, a little, since the other night when I got a chance to dress because Tilly was in hospital overnight. She stayed there another night, though there was no dressing on the second night for reasons I'll get into later, and now is home. I'm not sure whether this is the best idea but the children are happy to see her home and she is happy to be home so I guess my concerns can go do one.

The two posts, eminently better written than mine, can be found over at Rhiannon's place and Terri's corner by the way.


Oh, I wish.
Whilst at hospital, Tilly was placed on an IV for antibiotics of a nuclear variety designed to finally knock the infection of her kidneys on the head, so to speak, and that seems to have been successful. The pain-killers that this required, given the insane levels of pain she's been experiencing in varying degrees since 21 November, made her woozy and ill-focussed. By the time we saw her on the afternoon of the Friday she was compos mentis enough to have the children, but that was through her coming off the meds and trying to go it alone. Now that she's home she's cut back further on the pain-killers, in a dick move she borrowed from me, and in a lot of pain. On the plus side, if there can be such a thing, that meant I could nip out to get some Christmas stuff for people without children in tow. On the downside, it does make it hard to get a card. The last few days, without Tilly at home, have been spent ferrying small people about whilst trying to get rid of the mould in the house and tidy things up.

Yes, that about sums it up.
www.robot-hugs.com
It's a coping mechanism I got from the years before my father left. When my parents would have an argument, which I now know circled the affair, my father would respond after my mother had stormed off by doing whatever job I assumed had caused the blow-out. So, obviously, my brother and I would pitch in as if by carrying out the tasks we could bring my mother home by force of will. My mother being my mother meant that after my father left she remained very broken and I found myself doing jobs around the house and trying to be mature and stuff as a means of balancing the household. Ergo my coping strategies revolve around making sure the pots are washed, things are put away, the laundry is done, clothes are folded, beds are made, hoovering is done, the walls are free of mould, errands run... you get the idea. Thus the children have had a diet of wholesome, but shitty, food; cartoons and DVDs and much dashing around shops to get things that are needed (detergent, washing powder, dehumidifiers) and treats to keep them going and take their minds off the fact that their mummy was in hospital.

Also, there was the small matter on Friday of realisation that Tilly could actually be facing cancer. And that, if it were, then the symptoms suggested inoperable cancer. Unlikely, but a distinct possibility. As much as I have coped and done reasonably well as a single parent over the last few days that has been full time, a few days and without having to work. I called in and took time off. If the worst happened and Tilly died then... well, I wouldn't be able to be as full time as I have been. I do now have a plan Omega though, I would move back to a small house in my mother's city (cheaper house prices means a smaller mortgage) and get a teaching gig there if I could (I have enough contacts) that would be part-time. Hopefully, I could network with some other people I know there. Home schooling would have to finish (not enough of my family and friends support it), which would suck, but I could alleviate what I could as best as I could that way. Also, probably live well within my means rather than at the edge of them as we currently do. It would be possible, is all. I am very much into making things practical. As to the emotional parts of this, well, I don't do emotion. I imagine I would do even less if Tilly died. My Boy would follow my lead and, together, we would support the Girlie.

All this concentrates the mind. I dressed whilst Tilly was in hospital on the Thursday evening. Because it was an affirmation of who I am. What if Tilly died - what then? How soon until I come clean to them and how would I manage that? On Friday evening I had a beer and then numerous attempts at a phone conversation failed due to the people at the hospital being awfully good at their jobs (did I mention I love the NHS?) and caring for my wife. On the the Thursday I dressed and I did some other things. Today, when shopping, I was accosted by someone trying to sell soap who insisted that I could use it as a blandishment for my special lady (herself being female) and that there might be some 'magic trick' to 'spice things up'. I felt like telling her that we've managed 12 times since 2008 and that my wife has a kidney issue that may just end sex forever. I didn't.

But it brought home the danger that Tilly is in, that the relationship is in as it concentrates my thoughts and I begin to plan in case there is a life without Tilly soon and that I really, really don't know what I want. For the same reason that my coping strategies revolve around housework and doing things for other people, for the same reasons, my own awareness of what I want and need is stunted and unreliable.

This is going to take another post.

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