What a fucking shit day.

I hate being a spaz! When things go wrong and there is absolutely nothing you can do. The anxiety kicks in and then the spasms and everything else start to rear it’s bloody ugly head.

Today dad had an argument with some cows and lost big time. He has a few broken ribs, a fractured leg, bruises everywhere and he’s covered head to toe in field and everything that goes with it. He’s been through A and E been patched up as best they can and he’s home now.

I only found out what had happened when I got a phone call from Katie asking if I was ok. Bear in mind at the time I had no idea what had happened. So I just answered “yeah I’m fine”. “What you asking for”? She then said “oh shit, you don’t know”.

Of course when that happens the anxiety kicks in with full force. Katie told me that dad had been trampled by some cows and mum had taken him to hospital. she also said that Zoe was missing. I was in my room at the time with the TV blasting and the aircon running so I couldn’t hear much.

She gave me the full story telling me not to worry, she was on her way home and that there were people out looking for the dog. Being told not to worry doesn’t really help the anxiety, if anything it makes it worse. She also told me that I couldn’t go out and help look for the dog because I can’t walk that far. So there I am stuck at home on my own panicking about dad and the dog.

All I could do was potter around the house asking the birds in the trees to go and look for Zoe and tell her to come home. So I’m sat in a chair on the drive in the blaring hot sun hopping and praying for Zoe to potter round the corner.

Of course that didn’t happen.

After what felt like 6 hours of not knowing what the hell was going on with dad or the dog I got another call from Katie. She told me that the dog had been found and was safe with some other people. That gave me some relief knowing she was ok. She also said that her and mum we’re going to pick up the dog and would be home soon.

They came back with the dog and had to go back out to call off the search and pick up Katie’s car. While they were out all I could do was cuddle Zoe and tell her how scared and upset I was about what had happened.

A little while later mum got the call to go and pick up dad from the hospital. So he’s home, he’s battered, bruised and been through the wars but he’s back. So please spare a thought for him and send him some healing.

Anyway back to hating being a spaz. It is totally crap when there is nothing you can do to help and all you can do is sit at home and worry.

I was tempted to get my wheelchair out and try and help. But doing that isn’t the easiest of things to do. So getting the chair outside isn’t easy, then I’d have to push myself up the street. That in itself is no mean feat and after that I’d have to cross the road and start my own search. In a wheelchair it isn’t easy getting about, and the area I was told she went missing in is cobbled. Cobbles and wheelchairs do not mix.

So stuck at home on my jack jones worrying and panicking, not knowing what’s going on. Is dad ok? Where is the dog and is she ok?

So that is why I hate being a spaz. Dad is home and on the mend, he’s now had chance to wash away the field and Zoe is there looking after him and everyone else.

Love and light.