As you may have seen from the posts in my
Facebook group (please join!) I’ve
been in hospital at Wexford General for the last nine days. I had a deep lung infection that caused a
severe pain through the right side of my stomach, chest, back and shoulder,
even when I breathed just shallowly.
Although it wasn’t directly related to motor neuron disease, that
certainly didn’t help my fightback to what now constitutes good health with the
aid of the good nurses and doctors in St. Mary’s Ward. Back home now with Neil and Frank, a course
of anti-biotics and an out-patient appointment for next week for a follow-up
chest X-ray.
You’ve probably noticed that this blog and my FB group are called “Eimear’s Fight for Life” and if you’ve read the very good Gorey Guardian feature or listened to the Ray D'Arcy Show podcast you’ll be familiar with the notion that with my disease I know I’m going to die when, after M.N.D. has done it’s worst to the rest of my body, finally it will set in on the muscles of my lungs culminating in respiratory failure. My “fight for life” is my continuing battle to get the HSE to open the door to keeping me alive by using invasive ventilation (a machine operating my lungs) when the time comes. More of that in future blogs, but for now, my recent experience brought home just how real and frightening breathing problems can be. And with regards to my “fight for life” also, I’d just like to say a heartfelt “Thank You” to some very good friends and acquaintances who very kindly undertook some fundraising at the new Tesco in Gorey. Thank you so much, you are all so very kind!
Those of you who don’t know me well, probably wonder “Well who is she?” “Where does she come from?” and so on. Well, here goes: I was born in June 1966 as the fifth, but not final, child of Ralph and Kitty Lynch – the best folks a girl could ask for – in Rathfarnham, Dublin. There’s lots of photos of my older sisters and older brother but hardly any of me as a small child. I’ve one of me as a baby and all you can see is the blanket I am wrapped in – but I forgive them as we all (all eight of us – yes eight! Five girls and three boys) got an equal share of love. Right , enough shite…
My earliest memory of music is of Bowie on Top of the Pops doing Starman. I think I can blame him for my boot fetish/no girly shoes. My taste in footwear had to come from somewhere; no offence sisters but that, and my dress-sense, wasn’t from any of you, and nor was it from my brother Andy that I got my taste in music – thank God. Actually they’re probably all breathing a big sigh of relief now…”Thank Christ she’s not pinning that on us!”
David Bowie was my first real music man and has stayed with me all my life, along with Neil Young, The Eagles, Nick Drake, U2, The Waterboys, The Blades and of course the fab. Pierce Turner. And so many more – I was an ‘80s girl after all and loved Howard Jones, The Clash, Gary Numan (then and now) and so many more.
It’s very easy for me to say music plays a big part in my life, especially when I consider my musician friends: singer-songwriter Ken Bolton, The Little Ass Birds (Connor, Char, Ben etc) my brother Liam, and the great bunch of local musicians I got to know when I moved to Wexford. Sorry brother Ronan… you rate with me when it comes to guitar playing: a pair of 3-chord wonders!
As you might’ve gathered, I will never be accused of being a fashionista, in fact I’d go so far as to say no-one would look to me for fashion advice. I have spent my whole life saying “No, I would never wear pink”, so two years ago both to my delight and horror, my sister sent me a gift from Australia (I’ve two sisters Anne and Catherine, and two brothers Liam and Andy, living over there now). The note with this gift from Catherine said “Found this old roll of Dad’s film so decided to get it developed.” And guess what? It was a load of photos of me on my Communion aged 7 – photos I’d never seen, and to my horror I’m wearing a bright pink coat! In my defence I was of an age when I wore what I was given without putting up a fight; that didn’t start ‘til I was 8 and a half.
I’ve always disliked wearing skirts and dresses, in fact one of my friends was heard to say at a wedding once when I decided to be a girl for the day and don a dress “See, I told you Eimear had legs!” Going to work every day I had to wear a suit jacket and pants, so in the evenings, jeans please and at the weekends, jeans please.
I bought my first motorbike when I was 20, and skirts and bikes just don’t match, nor high heels – can you imagine me in a skirt and heels zooming down the road on my Yamaha V-Max? Yes, I can say with surety that I am not now, nor never have been, a girly girl. Too much interest in mad boots (not my name for them) and jeans – not to mention soccer, rugby, F1, Moto-GP, Tour-de-France and latterly, Hot Rod racing. So I’m happy to play sport-mad girl who won’t wear pink and never wears heels.
There's a very unflattering photo of me in hospital this week on my Facebook group...
More soon.
Ciao!
Eimear X
You’ve probably noticed that this blog and my FB group are called “Eimear’s Fight for Life” and if you’ve read the very good Gorey Guardian feature or listened to the Ray D'Arcy Show podcast you’ll be familiar with the notion that with my disease I know I’m going to die when, after M.N.D. has done it’s worst to the rest of my body, finally it will set in on the muscles of my lungs culminating in respiratory failure. My “fight for life” is my continuing battle to get the HSE to open the door to keeping me alive by using invasive ventilation (a machine operating my lungs) when the time comes. More of that in future blogs, but for now, my recent experience brought home just how real and frightening breathing problems can be. And with regards to my “fight for life” also, I’d just like to say a heartfelt “Thank You” to some very good friends and acquaintances who very kindly undertook some fundraising at the new Tesco in Gorey. Thank you so much, you are all so very kind!
Those of you who don’t know me well, probably wonder “Well who is she?” “Where does she come from?” and so on. Well, here goes: I was born in June 1966 as the fifth, but not final, child of Ralph and Kitty Lynch – the best folks a girl could ask for – in Rathfarnham, Dublin. There’s lots of photos of my older sisters and older brother but hardly any of me as a small child. I’ve one of me as a baby and all you can see is the blanket I am wrapped in – but I forgive them as we all (all eight of us – yes eight! Five girls and three boys) got an equal share of love. Right , enough shite…
My earliest memory of music is of Bowie on Top of the Pops doing Starman. I think I can blame him for my boot fetish/no girly shoes. My taste in footwear had to come from somewhere; no offence sisters but that, and my dress-sense, wasn’t from any of you, and nor was it from my brother Andy that I got my taste in music – thank God. Actually they’re probably all breathing a big sigh of relief now…”Thank Christ she’s not pinning that on us!”
David Bowie was my first real music man and has stayed with me all my life, along with Neil Young, The Eagles, Nick Drake, U2, The Waterboys, The Blades and of course the fab. Pierce Turner. And so many more – I was an ‘80s girl after all and loved Howard Jones, The Clash, Gary Numan (then and now) and so many more.
It’s very easy for me to say music plays a big part in my life, especially when I consider my musician friends: singer-songwriter Ken Bolton, The Little Ass Birds (Connor, Char, Ben etc) my brother Liam, and the great bunch of local musicians I got to know when I moved to Wexford. Sorry brother Ronan… you rate with me when it comes to guitar playing: a pair of 3-chord wonders!
As you might’ve gathered, I will never be accused of being a fashionista, in fact I’d go so far as to say no-one would look to me for fashion advice. I have spent my whole life saying “No, I would never wear pink”, so two years ago both to my delight and horror, my sister sent me a gift from Australia (I’ve two sisters Anne and Catherine, and two brothers Liam and Andy, living over there now). The note with this gift from Catherine said “Found this old roll of Dad’s film so decided to get it developed.” And guess what? It was a load of photos of me on my Communion aged 7 – photos I’d never seen, and to my horror I’m wearing a bright pink coat! In my defence I was of an age when I wore what I was given without putting up a fight; that didn’t start ‘til I was 8 and a half.
I’ve always disliked wearing skirts and dresses, in fact one of my friends was heard to say at a wedding once when I decided to be a girl for the day and don a dress “See, I told you Eimear had legs!” Going to work every day I had to wear a suit jacket and pants, so in the evenings, jeans please and at the weekends, jeans please.
I bought my first motorbike when I was 20, and skirts and bikes just don’t match, nor high heels – can you imagine me in a skirt and heels zooming down the road on my Yamaha V-Max? Yes, I can say with surety that I am not now, nor never have been, a girly girl. Too much interest in mad boots (not my name for them) and jeans – not to mention soccer, rugby, F1, Moto-GP, Tour-de-France and latterly, Hot Rod racing. So I’m happy to play sport-mad girl who won’t wear pink and never wears heels.
There's a very unflattering photo of me in hospital this week on my Facebook group...
More soon.
Ciao!
Eimear X
Eh excuse me sis ! I think I took a lovely photo !!! But you ARE entitled to your opinion I suppose ! Loving the blog though and very glad to agree that you didn't get your taste in clothes from me !!! Love you anyway ! XXX
ReplyDeleteGreat blog Eimear. I remember you as one of Gerties little sisters and no you were not a Pink type of girl LOL
ReplyDelete