It’s over 5 weeks since I last posted something and anyone who has read my blog over the past couple of years will know that I never voluntarily cast my laptop aside and so there must be a good reason for my silence. There is a good reason but unfortunately I can’t share it with you because as of yet we still don’t know exactly what’s going on within my body of glass.

I won’t share all the details now but when the hospital tests are done with and we’ve established the causes I’ll be writing about them then. Suffice to say that sleeping for 18/19 hours per day and getting dizzy every time I stand up are not good places to start from.

The last few weeks have forced me to stay very quiet but left me in no doubt that the real world continues apace even without me contributing anything. I’ve had to cancel all my volunteering and I’ve missed friends’ parties, other friends having babies, my own election to the board of Arthritis Ireland and I still haven’t celebrated Dublin winning the All-Ireland properly. We all know that someone else takes up the slack when we’re not there but it still comes as a disappointment when the whole operation doesn’t collapse without us.

My Granddad passed away 3 weeks ago yesterday. We all knew it was coming but yet it still came as a shock if that makes sense? At 92 he’d had a great innings and had been saying for the last five years that he was “practicing for his finals”. My Granddad was a man of few words but he missed nothing. Yes he napped and dozed in front of all of us but there were times when a little hint of a smile flickered at the corners of his lips and we knew even with his eyes closed he had heard everything.

Granddad’s funeral was, while upsetting, certainly a celebration of his life and the family he gathered around himself. I hadn’t been out of sweatpants and hoodies for a couple of weeks before and I’ve been back in them since but for the day I paid my respects in suit and tie. Thankfully the readings were short though, because as I stood having done the first myself, the whole world began to spin but I knew no matter what I had to hold my feet.

My Granddad died at 92 years of age, I turned 30 this year. Could I possibly have another 62 years to live? If that’s the case then this period of a couple of months of struggling will barely merit a footnote in the story of my life. I’ve plenty of time to find out what’s going on, start the right treatment and move on with my life. My psycho-analysis must be working because I wouldn’t have been so philosophical 6 months ago!

Rest in Peace Granddad. Now that you’ve gone on the “only trip down under” you were ever genuinely going to take I’m going for a nap. It’s ok though, I’ll do something more productive at some point in the next 62 years!

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