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27/01/20

Ahhh, my first post. I wanted to create a study blog for my own motivation as sometimes it’s hard for my brain to come up with a reason to revise so now I do have one!

So first on the list was doing more key study sheets for English literature- not the most fun but I enjoy designing the pages.

Later on I had to do my psychology revision. Hated it at the start but slowly I got into the groove and did about 6 pages on memory and half of perception. I don’t want to be tired tomorrow so I’ll carry on tomorrow evening I hope.

I probably will post on this account for a few days then lose motivation but for now- enjoy my blog

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My breathing’s fine, but I’m still suffocating

My sight’s fine but I can’t see past these white walls

My hearing’s fine but it’s too loud or maybe too quiet.

My hands are fine but everything’s cold.

My voice is fine but I haven’t used it.

My heart is beating but I feel dead.

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What The Fuck Is Happening (Labour and Delivery)

I feel like nobody prepared me for half of the shit I went through, but overall, it wasn’t really as bad as I thought it would be and I would do it again. Although, I definitely wasn’t prepared to basically be fisted, but more on that later.

Before I get into it, just realize this is going to be raunchy and tmi. That’s just how I roll. You’ve been warned. And just so you know, the rest of this book will be the same. I don’t tend to censor or sugar coat much, if anything at all.

I was supposed to be induced because I have a blood clot in my right thigh which happened to me when I was about 22. I developed it from smoking while being on birth control that had estrogen. I don’t recall ever being told that that was a thing. I never expected to get a blood clot at such a young age, and a lot of other people can’t believe it either.

Finding out I had a blood clot was an interesting adventure within itself. At the time I was just finishing up my private college schooling for medical office assistant. I was doing my internship at a Pediatric clinic in my city, although that information isn’t really relevant. Sometimes I just like to let people know that I know my medical shit. I know all the terminology, and systems, and I’m basically a nurse, okay? Not really. But I am trained to do urine tests, PVR scans, urine flow testing, take blood, etc.

ANYWAY. One day, I fell down the stairs and my right leg felt like I had pulled a muscle. Over the following week it had gotten much worse and had swelled to almost a third of the size. I went to the next town over’s walk in clinic because their wait times are not as long, thinking I had just pulled or torn something. I told the doctor as such and she agreed. With no testing whatsoever, she gave me a prescription for anti inflammatories and sent me on my way.

The next day it had gotten so much worse. The swelling and pain had both exponentially increased, so I went to the emergency room in my city. The first thing they asked was if I was on any medications and if I was a smoker, then sent me for an ultrasound which revealed that I had a blood clot in my right thigh. I don’t know if it’s in my femoral artery, but where they were pushing the ultrasound wand, it certainly seemed like it. Regardless, they told me the clot was quite large and it definitely looked to be true on the ultrasound screen. They were very annoyed that the other hospital’s walk in hadn’t been thorough enough and had given me anti inflammatories, as that apparently makes things worse. I started immediately on blood thinners and had to have blood tests every week for the next six months until my blood specialist said the clot was small enough to go off the thinners.

Skip ahead to my pregnancy. Apparently pregnancies increase the risk of having another DVT, especially if you’ve already had one. Back on blood thinners I go. Except THIS time, they’re needles. Because apparently, the needle version (Lovenox) of blood thinners is less harmful to the baby than the pills (Wafarin). So I gave myself a needle in the stomach/abdomen every day (kind of).

I’m really bad for remembering to take medication, especially when you add baby brain to the mix. I would often forget to take my blood thinners, and by the time I went into labour, I hadn’t taken them in weeks. The nurses were VERY mad at me. Apparently, three days prior they had a woman die after delivering due to not taking her blood thinners. Woops.

So I was supposed to be induced and have a planned delivery due to the thinners, they didn’t want me to bleed to death. But, I wasn’t taking my needles regularly. The induction was supposed to be a week before my due date. But, two weeks before my induction date, I went into labour. I had Liam at 37 weeks.

I was standing outside on my apartment balcony having a smoke. I know, I’m a shitty mom, hence the title of this book. I felt like o was discharging more than normal and thought, “well maybe I just have to pee”. I finished up my smoke, went inside and peed. I started to make dinner in the kitchen and while I was boiling water and putting the veggies on the stove, I was googling what a mucous plug looks like. Because apparently that’s something that comes out before your water breaks, but I didn’t know what to expect or look for.

I’ll be damned, right then and there, my water broke. Water, every where. So much. It soaked through my panties, through my big fuzzy pajamas, and all over the kitchen floor. I said to my then husband, “Will, I think my water just broke.” He yelled, “HUH?!” And jumped off the couch. “What do you mean you think your water just broke?!”. I stood in the kitchen, unsure of what to do, but keeping calm and collected as I usually do in high stress situations. Don’t ask me why I’m like that when I have such bad anxiety and depression, but I am. Will obviously went into a frenzy, as most partners do.

When the leaking seemed to subside a little, I waddled to the bathroom and stood in the bathtub to take off my bottoms, while the leaking seemed to start again and not stop. Will stood in the bathroom saying something like, “what should I do?” I asked him to grab the number for the clinic off the fridge. He darted from the bathroom, and I could hear a lot of rummaging happening. I stood there, kind of laughing to myself over the ridiculousness of it all and wondering whether I should call my mom who lived two hours away, or the doctors first.

I called the after hours clinic, while Will called my mom. The after hours clinic connected me to the hospital with the on call obstetrics physician. I explained the situation to her. That I was on blood thinners due to a clot (I didn’t tell her I wasn’t taking my blood thinners as prescribed), that I was supposed to be induced and have a planned delivery due to the fact, how far along I was, and that my water had just broke. She didn’t quite believe that my water had broke, questioning whether or not it was just urine, as if I couldn’t tell the difference. Lady, I had literally just peed and then I covered my kitchen floor in a clear, non urine scented liquid that wouldn’t stop.

She asked me if I was having any contractions, which I was not, and to come to the hospital within the next hour or two. We called my best friend and packed what we could because at the time our apartment building also had a bed bug infestation and we had to essentially clear out our entire apartment, including the nursery, and my dumb ass forgot to pack a fucking hospital bag. My water had broken at around 7pm and we got to the hospital around 9pm.

The nurses got my checked in and set up in an examination room, hooked me up to machines and whatnot, and barraged me with questions. When they found out I hadn’t been taking my blood thinners, they essentially tore me a new asshole. The nurse, and then the obstetrician when she came in, as well as receiving dirty and concerned looks from my then husband, while I glared back in a way that said, “shut the fuck up.”

So the obstetrician asked if I had experienced contractions yet, and when I said I hadn’t she explained that she was going to see how dilated I was. She didn’t explain HOW she was going to check such a thing, just that it would be very uncomfortable. Okay, I thought, uncomfortable is fine. It wasn’t fine. She shoved, what I felt, was her entire fist inside me while I groaned and winced. It was more than uncomfortable, but apparently I was already 4cm dilated. Then my contractions started at 9:18pm.

A little while later a nurse asked if I would like the epidural yet, as the anesthetist was going into a case and wouldn’t be back for at least an hour. At the time I thought it was too early for the epidural and the contractions seemed manageable. That didn’t last long. The nurse came back to see if I had changed my mind since the anesthetist hadn’t started the case yet, and as I was deciding, another nurse came in and said he had gone into the case. Damn it. The nurse hooked me up to a Gravol drip, which at least eased the discomfort a little bit.

My mom came and by 2am or so, the anesthetist was there to give me the epidural. I hardly felt the needle at all, which, other than the labour itself, I was most scared about. My mom cried while I got it and I told her to stop being dramatic, I was fine. To which, she told me to shut up. This is the type of family I have, and my mom is where I get my sass and sarcasm.

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Introduction

Oh, hi there. I’m a shitty mom. This book is NOT meant to be advice. Do NOT take my advice. This is essentially a journal that hopefully myself and others can laugh at and maybe share in relatability. Because, let’s face it, we’re all shitty parents just trying our best. We all learn as we go, some quicker than others. Some are naturally great at parenting, and others are not. We all have different styles, techniques, tricks, etc.

My writing style is probably mostly influenced by Jenny Lawson’s book “Let’s Pretend This Never Happened”. Which, if you haven’t, you probably should because it’s fucking hilarious. Or, at least, I think so. Her chapter about thinking someone breaking into her house while she has diarrhea had me in literal tears and has the same effect every time I read it. That’s neither here nor there.

What is relevant, is that I swear. A lot. I try to keep things blunt and light hearted. If you don’t like that, then put this book down. And also, again, this is not a book for advice. Like, at all. But, I hope you enjoy this more than I enjoy these sleepless nights, and I hope you can relate on some level to this ridiculousness.

Some things about me, to get the ball rolling is that I’m 27 and recently had a baby who we call Liam. Technically his name is William. He’s named after his dad, who was named after his dad, etc. There’s now six of them. Fucking six of them. I’m also about to go through a divorce because honestly, I had an affair. I fell out of love and instead of just leaving like I should have, I didn’t. Because, I’m an asshole.

So, I’m about to move in with the guy I had an affair with, and my best friend. Hopefully that goes well, because in this financial climate, it’s all any of us can afford. I’ve been glued to hgtv, because looking at houses and renovations I could never afford is fun and depressing all in one. I also hate that in the wee hours of the late night/early morning they play horror trailers that scare the hell out of me. I love horror movies and the like.. but at 4am when I’m all alone? No thank you.

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Hi guys, I’m a new YouTuber who just created her channel which is dedicated to a revise with me series, I’ll be posting every Friday (and may add more days). Started this channel because it helps me to revise with someone so I thought I could become that someone for others, it is my first video so I do have a lot more improvements to make but I hope you guys like my first video, I’ve attached a link and maybe if you do like it, you can subscribe☺️☺️🥰🥰 thank youuu💙💙

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So I’m gonna try get some revision done.. I’m gonna try :

- type out my media essay

- Attempt at least 3 topics of RS today.

I’m gonna come back to check in

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You say “I have the right to speech”,
Well, I have the right to live.
And with all that I have done for you,
I have no more fucks to give.
 
I screamed too long at empty page,
Fists bloody on the wall:
If you refuse to heed my writing,
I refuse to stand and fall.

I’ll seek the stars within her eyes
and hold her close at night.
But I have known too many deaths
to keep the will to fight.
 
For since thirteen I’ve marched to war
with hellfire at my feet.
We raised our rainbow flags as shields
to gunfire in the streets.
 
My hands are soaked in sticky blood
from patching friends with holes;
I wonder how you think your bullets
will be what saves our souls.
 
But if I must walk down to hell
for whose hand I choose to hold,
at least I’ll have good company,
Among the beautiful, brave, and bold.

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Day 10/365 days of productivity ||20.02.2020

  • EVEN MORE BIOLOGY NOTES, planning on finishing my goal by this weekend so I can get back on track with everything else and mock prep.
  • Cleaned my space and managed to finally reorganise my desk and revision space.
  • I’m trying to remember a time where it didn’t rain 24/7 and wasnt freezing .
  • Went to my local gay group which was an awesome destress , aka local lesbian adopted yet another son.
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When during the battle of trafalgar the boats went out to collect possible survivors, the crew of the HMS Pickle’s boat didn’t believe their eyes as they fished a naked woman out of the water.

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Lady of Trafalgar by Patrick O’Brien, 2019

But so a certain Jack Nastyface wrote the following:

“Among those who were thus preserved from a watery grave was a young Frenchwoman who was brought aboard our ship in a state of complete nakedness. Although it was in the heat of battle, yet she received every assistance which was at that time in our power; and her distress of mind was soothed as well as we could; until the officers got to their chests, from whence they furnished her with needles and thread to convert sheets into chemises and curtains from their cots to make somewhat of a gown and other garments so that by degrees she was made as comfortable as circumstances would admit; for we all tried who would be most kind to her”. It turned out that the young woman concerned was a survivor of the French Achille and was the wife of one of that ships crew who could not bear to be separated from him when he was ordered to sea. Disguising herself as a boy, she had entered the ship with him and had served at his side until she was told that he had been killed during the battle. Her reaction to his apparent death gave her away.

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Lady of Trafalgar, by Patrick O’Brien, 2017

The rescue of the Frenchwoman was described by Captain Moorsom in a letter to his father dated 4th December 1805:

“When the Achille was burning, she (Jeanette) got out of the gunroom port and sat on the rudder chains till some melted lead ran down upon her and forced her to strip and leap off. She swam to a spar where several men were, but one of them bit and kicked her till she was obliged to quit and get to another which supported her til she was taken by The Pickle and sent on board the Revenge. Amongst the men she was lucky enough to find her husband. We were not wanting in civility to the lady. I ordered her two Purser’s shirts to make a petticoat; and other of the officers found something to clothe her*; in a few hours, Jeanette was perfectly happy.”

*One of Revenge’s lieutenants gave Jeanette a length of blue sprigged muslin he had intended for his wife and the Chaplain gave her a pair of his old shoes. Jeanette, originally a dressmaker, quickly made herself a jacket and dress in the Flemish fashion. Additionally she was given a blanket, two pairs of white stockings and two silk handkerchiefs.

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Anecdote at the Battle of Trafalgar, 21 October 1805 by William Heath

Each of the officers in HMS Revenge gave the woman a silver dollar and when the ship limped into Gibraltar after enduring the storm which followed the battle, the woman and her husband were put into a Cartel ship which took them both to Spain.

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