Life sometimes finds fresh ways to kick you in the guts.
Last week was on the stressful side, the appointment for my eldest son’s next surgery came through (second this year), and a third set of tests confirmed that my diabetic daughter does seem to have some form of kidney issue. I’d love to tell you more, but an ultrasound, more blood tests, and a possible biopsy are needed before any diagnosis is given. To say I am worried is a bit of an understatement.
I know from past experience that where the kids health is concerned, it can send my mental health a bit loopy. Last week, I started to feel my grip loosen just slightly. Everyday tasks felt like mountains to climb, my bed was somewhere I dreamt of returning to, I didn’t train, and the wine called me from the fridge nightly.
So I took a deep breath, told a couple of girlfriends that I was struggling, I took some long walks, I emptied the fridge of the excess wine (down the sink – not down my neck).
Then I thought karma was shining down on me.
(Should have realised karma is a cow.)
A man turned up at my door with a box of Milk Tray.
Bloody love Milk Tray.
It is a chocolate from my childhood, a memory in each nugget of milky goodness.
I am not going to lie – I was excited, the wave of depression eased slightly and I popped them in the fridge, knowing once they had developed a level of hardness we would be reunited on the sofa with a contrastingly warm cup of tea.
I popped the kids to bed, ran a bath with extra bubbles and sank into it for a while.
Then I snuggled in my dressing gown after I had lifted myself from the water, and I walked to the kitchen and boiled the kettle for my tea.
Five minutes later I was settled on the sofa, mug in hand, the box of Milk Tray in my mouth as my teeth worked to remove the cellophane wrap that contained my goodie.
All through the bath I had dreamt of my go to first chocolate.
Am sure any self-respecting Milk Tray lover knows which one I mean.
There is only one really.
It has a glorious gooey centre, like juicy jelly surrounded by hard, milk chocolate.
It is a rose in an edible casing.
For the non Milk Tray aware – I am of course talking about the Turkish Delight.
I had already mentally eaten the treat several times over in my bath. It had replaced the thoughts of renal issues, surgery, kidney concerns and diabetic woes. My whole bath was spent imaging how I was going to slowly bite the chocolate, how I would separate it from the eastern treat inside until it was completely exposed. Then once my mouth was totally free of cheap cocoa, I was going to pop in the succulent candy and suck it until it was nothing but a memory.
I am pretty sure you get the picture about my excitement.
Anyway, back to the cellophane in my teeth moment…
The tea was steaming, the cellophane came away easily, and I lifted the lid.
It was a larger than average sized Milk Tray, so I knew that there would be more than one Turky Delight for me to suckle on.
I was more excited than when I met Christian Slater (and let me tell you I was pretty darn excited then.)
I lifted the white bobbly bit of paper than separated the chocolate from the cardboard.
And then I howled.
It has only been bloody removed, and to add insult to injury, it has been replaced by some weird Apple Crisp.
I mean, for Fred’s shoes, why would Cadbury’s do that?
Who wants a frigging apple when you can have a taste of eastern delight.
It is like eating a banana when you have a Kir Royale on offer.
It is absolute freaking madness.
Do Cadbury’s not know I am trying to fight a flipping slippery slide into bloody depression. This was meant to save me, not drive me closer to the edge.
Words cannot convey my despair. the worries about the kids is hard enough, but this is a national travesty.
So I will tell you want I did.
I ate the chocolates (except the nut ones – don’t like those), I ate them all with a steely determination. I made myself not enjoy them, not even the hard caramel square. But I took the apple crisp and I slammed it into the bin; twice (it was a two layer box.) Then I burnt the box – before taking a photo for the blog (rookie mistake!)
Karma is cruel, Cadbury’s are crueller…..