sunset

that was the week that was

Sunday

My lie in. Whoop!

Get up in time for a large cooked brunch. Stuff face.

12pm take what Mr TOPP has endearingly termed “Poo Medicine”.

Spend next two hours sipping a litre of said Poo Medicine through straw and running to the bathroom.

Four hours later: repeat previous step.

Hide upstairs while rest of family cook delicious tea. Try to drink a mug of marmite (GAH). GIve up and eat jelly. Try not to let the Hungry Bad Man get me.

Remainder of the day, run to bathroom shouting at M’s to make way.

Monday

10.30am Having had no breakfast, NOT EVEN COFFEE, get taxi to hospital. Check in.

Put on fetching green trousers with flap in the arse region. Cover dignity with gown.

image

Spend next two hours in waiting room with fellow well dressed ladies discussing the finer details of chronic bowel disease. One by one we’re picked off by the nurses, wishing each other luck.

1.10pm sedation administered. Feel all woozy. Nice.

1.15pm Camera “shoved up jacksy” (as one of my fellow colitis sufferers had described it to someone who was having the tube down her throat.)* 12 biopsies taken. Slightly disturbed to be watching my insides on tv.

1.50pm On recovery. No dairy free biscuits so tuck into the emergency crisps I had in my bag.

2.30pm Collected by Mr TOPP and taken home, ready for resting for the next 24 hours.

3pm Sit on sofa, food on lap, Downton Abbey on the tv. BRING BRING.

“Hello? It’s school. We’ve had the call. I know you’re meant to be off tomorrow, but is there any chance you can come in?” 

Me: “Um, yes, except I haven’t eaten for 26 hours, have been sedated and am not insured to drive for 24 hours.”

“That’s ok. We can arrange a lift for you?”

Me: “Ok, but just so you know, if I have a shit lesson, you need to make it clear I’ve been in hospital today.”

“Yup, no problem,”

Me: “Fair dos. See you for Ofsted tomorrow then.”

PANIC!

Spend rest of day planning and eating and planning and stressing.

Tuesday

5am Alarm goes off.

6am Get picked up.

6.20am Arrive at school. Print off every thing I need, drink coffee. Eat chocolate biscuits. Periodically clutch stomach that is feeling very sorry for itself.

11.45am Classroom door opens. Fortunately all pupils are occupied and on task. And ENJOYING learning.

3.30pm Go for feedback, ready to argue that I was still under the effects of sedation so DON”T BE MEAN. Get graded as Outstanding. Try not to fall off chair. Head points out that that’s even more brilliant considering I’d had “a camera down your neck yesterday”. I don’t feel it’s appropriate to correct him.

Go back to classroom. Jump around a bit (carefully so as not to do myself an injury) and eat chocolate biscuits. Wait for lift home.

6.10pm Arrive home. Put M’s to bed. Collapse on sofa.

Wednesday

7.45am Drop Little M off at nursery.

7.48am phone rings on handsfree. Comes up as my friend. Almost answer with “alright you old tart” but was a good job I didn’t as was actually deputy head borrowing her phone.

9am Full school singing practise with Ofsted inspector watching. He sang along, so take it he enjoyed it. Dedicated “Eye of the Tiger” to the staff.

1pm Brass band rehearsal. With lead inspector watching. No pressure. Used pencil as a baton, so looked dead professional.

2.30pm Head appears in classroom to say there will be no more observations today so to stand down.

5.30pm Fish And Chip Special Treat Tea

8pm Open presecco and flop on sofa.

Thursday

7.30am Little M: “Come on Mummy, we’re gonna be late!”

Go…slow…all…day…no…matter…how…much…coffee..I…drink…

Roll on the weekend.

 

*presumably they wash it first

 

 

 

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