Posts Tagged ‘illness’

Faint Praise (shhh)

Sunday, February 27th, 2011

I regularly roll my eyes at Beardieboy for his lack of insight, inability to understand women and self confessed disconnection when he’s preoccupied. He leaves me curling my toes with his tendency to sleep in his day clothes; distresses me incredibly with his lack of ability to have a meaningful conversation. We have the most challenging relationship I’ve ever had in my life, in both good and bad ways. He drives me to total distraction, hurts my feelings and makes me feel isolated at times. At other times he is so caring, loving, and thoughtful I feel mean for ever having had a negative feeling about him. We work brilliantly as a pair of musicians, and wonder now why we waited so long to ‘get it on’.  He’s also pretty hot, for my money anyways.

The last few weeks I’ve been ill and had an operation on Monday. In all that time he’s been obscenely hard working. Up to 60 hrs a week at work, rehearsing, practicing his German (he’s now better than me – crapsticks) and on top of that he’s done ALL the cooking, virtually all of the cleaning and entertained the troupes. Even preparing the house for viewings, which means folding towels neatly and actually closing drawers.  He’s stepped up to the plate and he’s been the best husband a woman could hope for (apart from his infernal snoring). I’m not normally a sappy chick but when, in the past,  I’ve thrown my wedding ring at him for his utterly shittastic behaviour I’m now rather glad that he didn’t pawn it for guitar strings.

Don’t you dare tell him I said nice things about him. His head is frigging enormous.

in the next photo he sticks his tongue in my ear...this is sexy stuff girls

Dying on Your Arse

Monday, December 6th, 2010

Did you hear about the comedian who couldn’t tell jokes because he was too busy dying on his arse?

We are in a comedy zone at home. Beardieboy thinks he’s fucking hilarious. Every moment of my home life is a pallet for his art, every intercourse is an opportunity to build a story, try out a story, check his comic timing. Sod. I mean, when you’re on the loo and someone’s standing outside saying ‘are we nearly there yet?’ you’d like to hope it’s not a 38 year old man shouting through the lock.

The man drives me, quite literally, bonkers. Having said that he is really funny and when he does his ‘thing’ he really does make me belly laugh. He’s not run of the mill, not lazy and he’s studiously hard working (I know because I am there for every bloody joke that he practices and perfects – ‘should I say it or the?’. He did his first gig and was lauded by the regular crowd who see all manner of drivel and shit, as well as all the good guys. I felt like I’d earned that for him, putting up with the constant experimentation at my expense.

We have a friend who decided to become a comedian at the same time as Beardieboy. Given that they started at the same time you’d think they’d be in roughly the same place. Hm, well you’d be wrong. This person got up at their first gig and they were devastatingly bad, having clearly done no work to prepare at all. Tumbleweed rolled through the pub as they struggled to remember even one  line of their routine. Yikes. I felt more uncomfortable than I did watching Bruno, and that’s some embarrassment we’re talking about. At this point most people would pull the wool over their own eyes and make straight for the door. My hat goes off to this person because they didn’t do that, they dusted themselves off and booked another gig. Kudos.

Beardie got on and wrote another routine, to try out some new stuff, to torture me with. The man is relentless. Our friend promised they were also working hard on their routine. It wasn’t true, and before Beardie could do his second gig our friend was up again. We sat there wondering what would happen. Let’s just say that even the tumbleweed were too embarrassed to make an appearance. I sat through the car crash and could barely breathe for ten minutes. Yet again this person came off stage and bold as brass stayed exactly where they were. They did not rush for cover, they did not give up. Knowing they hadn’t done the work they just determined to do it better, differently, more. Well done them.

Beardie did well for his second gig and eagerly anticipated his third. A few days before that gig he started to feel unwell, lavatorially speaking it wasn’t much fun, not much to joke about. I watched him sleeplessly over a few days becoming more and more unwell. On the day the gig was due he was literally dying on his arse. He started bleeding and we went straight to hospital, straight to isolation. He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t cope. They wondered if he had some disease, with long term, life changing implications, or if it was a serious infection, with the potential to ruin organs and ultimately reach the same conclusion as if it were some disease.

It turns out that he did have a serious infection. After over 48 hrs of bleeding thing have started to improve, though I think he has a long way to go. I knew things were improving when he picked up his phone and tweeted about having his ‘needs’ met by a nurse who looked like she was straight out of a bollywood film.  He’s still in hospital and needs some tests to check that the damage isn’t permanent, making sure his kidneys are ok etc but I think he might have been a very lucky man.

I’m in a state of shock still, I’ve never seen so much blood come out of a person who I needed to believe was not mortally ill. I don’t ever want to go through that again. I desperately need to see him home and eating well. He spent today doing his best to piss me off with his extreme views so I doubt it’ll be too long before he is back to business.

What I need now is to get to two third gigs. The third gig that will mark the return of my lovely funny man and the third gig of a friend who will either allow us all to breathe again or who we will be counselling to find a new hobby.