Welcome

Following the crowning of my NHS experience with a stint at a PCT and the resulting redundancy (traumatic, though much wanted and worked for), my husband and I are going back to my roots near a small village in Smaland, Sweden. These are our experiences.

Tuesday, September 20, 2022

 Hello! 

Yes, I am still alive, just. In the intervening years such a lot has happened, so I will just list things to wet your appetite and probably/maybe come back to them later. So, sitting comfortably? Then let us begin..

1. Cafe went very well, then Mad M, Cupcake Queen of Norway happened, and I decided to close. You can't work around Mad Cupcake Queens, sometimes you just have to cut your losses.

2. Developed a bad allergy to cat. Almost went into a coma, at the risk of sounding over-dramatic. So poor Psychokitty had to be put down.  She was a wild cat and would only graciously allow us to have any sort of contact, so there was nothing else for it.  I still cry now.

3. We moved. There is a special place in hell for the creators of the British house buying system and a whole blog of invective is coming.

4. Got a job as a country postman. Awesome job, absolutely awesome.  One day I will write a book called Underpants of Sweden - my life as a postman. 

5. Had a massive burnout. Therapy is brilliant, I think that a psychological health check up should be as standard as a physical health check up.  My one regret is not having therapy sooner, I would probably be better at it then...

6. Covid started and I got breast cancer. I am so thankful that I am living here and not in the UK. I also took the opportunity to start gaming instead of waiting until I retire. Marvellous decision, Dragon Age is the best, though have to rediscover keyboard controls. This is probably good for staving off dementia, though not monsters.

7. A slipped disc in my neck (mega ouch) showed bone spurs digging in the spinal column and radiating nerves (oucher)

7. I am still on treatment for cancer today and have had to give up my life as a postie, so technically speaking I am unemployed.  Though I have more than enough to do, societies to join and volunteer organisations to help with. So it is more like being unpaid community worker, combined with having to "listen to my body" (quite frankly, I hadn't realised that it lies so much, especially about the need for chocolate).

So here I am, shouting into the void and shamelessly practicing my writing.  

More to follow!

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