Wednesday, 8 December 2010

When soap's not hygienic

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene
I’m begging of you please don’t take Dolly’s man

Yes, the emotional intensity of this week was brought home to me on Tuesday when Jolene was playing on the radio in the waiting room and I was gripped by an urgent concern for Dolly Parton’s plight complete with physical symptoms of anxiety on her behalf: my shoulders went into ear-warmer position and my stomach tied itself in a pretty gingham bow. Luckily this was short-lived and soon replaced by my crabbit request:

Dolleee, Dolleee, Dolleee, Dolleeeeeee
I’m begging of you get some dignity

I’m understandably going a bit mad here but I have vast experience of coping with madness so I think I’ll be okay.

The stress of the diagnosis of the brain mets, plus the anxiety around the treatment, plus the psychiatric disturbances associated with the steroids I’m on, plus my bipolar tendencies, plus my sticky compulsion to hoover-up any loose guilt or responsibility lying around: all these factors have come together beautifully to make tonight’s attempted sleep very weird indeed.

I decided to try a sleeping tablet (although I’ve been suspicious of them for years ever since my sister Brigeen once hallucinated that I was our uncle Column McIlhinney getting into bed beside her).

The pharmacist today warned me about sleep hygiene and the need to avoid stimulus before taking the tablet. I thought I had heeded this advice, but apparently watching Coronation Street in disaster film-mode is a sleep hygiene disaster!

I was tossing and turning and moaning and groaning about losing wee Max in the street! Yes, in my disturbed state I thought I was that Becky McDonald.

My initial identification with the character of Becky started a while back when a doctor told her the heartbreaking news that she wouldn’t be able to have children. This sense of camaraderie soon dried up, however, when five minutes later she was over this news and applying to adopt.

Now, I can only speculate that my recent acquisition of both a blonde wig and a glamorous tracksuit must’ve let her back in to take over Tyler Durden-style whilst I slept. But I think her possession has actually helped me exorcise some stress. And writing about it has definitely calmed me down.

Apologies to poor John for worrying him sick and scaring him into thinking I was going to have another seizure. It wasn’t me it was Becky McD!


  1. Thanks for starting my day with a smile Becky, sorry I mean Kelly.....the image of Brigeen hallucinating that Colm was getting into bed beside her cracked me up!

  2. Ah, it's never good when sleep keeps you awake at night... Hope you get a better sleep tonight with no Corrie-induced nightmares! lots of love xx

  3. ¿Calle de la coronación? No entiendo nada. Una broma privada: don’t eat that soap.



  4. kelly your an amazing woman hi!!! Poor Brigeen thinkin uncle colm was getting into bed beside her, lucky she was hallucinating, poor Patsy was probably wishin he was dreaming that time Niall o'Kane got into bed beside him in a drunken state and squeezed his bum!! heehee Cant wait to read your next entry!!! lots of love Kathryn xxxxxx

  5. Coronation Street is sleep-unhygienic? That must mean Eastenders is positively sleep-filthy, it being the more southerly and surly of the soapy pairing.

    Not for the faint of heart (or Becky McD of heart) would be the mash up I saw of the scene from Batman Begins when commissioner Gordon destroys the overhead trainline and the train crash disater (train crashaster?) from the nation's beloved Corrie. Funny, yes, but probably sleep-H-block-pebble-dashed.

    By the way, isn't it a little unfair on the recently hirsute Henry if you go round hoovering up spare guilt and responsibility? Poor Henry. That's his job, surely.

    Other Stephen