ailing and rejoicing

It seems really strange how quickly the days, weeks, months and even years, scurry by! I often think of how little I manage to do each day, and yet, time still manages to pass almost too quickly for comfort. Even on days where my sundry ailments are crying havoc, and I wish the pain and discomfort would quickly pass, I can never wish the day to end as I look forward to my OH’s return from work. I wish the ailments would disappear but not the day.

 I appreciate every moment of my existence, the piscine activity in aquarium and pond, the birds visiting our garden but, most importantly,  the more time I can spend with my beloved the better; each moment of life is to be savoured and I give thanks that I still have the ability to appreciate it.

As I write I’m sitting in comfort at the fireside, listening to Berlioz’s Overture to King Lear (courtesy of Radio 3) and, casting an eye over the garden; I never thought multi-tasking was something I could manage! My furthest ventures out in recent weeks have been to the local shops and, on one occasion, the extra few minutes trudge to see my doctor.

Even after 8½ years, since succumbing to this illness, I still find it difficult to accept that I can no longer take a “proper” walk! I can at least manage many things better than was the case in the not too distant past. As long as I remember to PACE myself, take appropriate medication, and feel and express gratitude for all life’s blessings (including the ministrations of my physiotherapist – herself a PwME – as she applies the acupuncture needles ), I do experience reasonably long periods when many of the symptoms appear to have gone into remission.

I am currently battling (unsuccessfully for the past six to eight weeks) with acute, although spasmodic, pains in the hip and left lower limb joints and muscles. Externally applied Ibuprofen gel had barely any effect. A thorough examination by my GP, who I saw once these symptoms started interfering further with an already erratic pattern of unrefreshing sleep, left me feeling rather more bruised and battered. He prescribed 2 x Co-codamol 15/500 to be taken (in alternate doses) with my usual 2 x 50ml tramadol and the usual pre-bedtime amitriptyline.

 So far the results are not at all promising but, tomorrow I’ll be going to the District Hospital for a hip X-Ray and blood tests, and the possibility of a further scan.

Although I initially thought it may just be a bout of sciatica, rather than a recurrence of my herniated disc problem, I’m no longer prepared to self-diagnose.

As I continue writing the Red Kite has entered my field of vision, circling just beyond our garden boundary. I’m quite surprised to see it today as conditions are wet and blustery. At lower level, blue tits, coal tits, and a robin have been visiting our feeders.

This evening, emotional and physical stamina permitting, I’m hoping to attend the AGM of our local Labour Party.

I rejoice and am glad in this day the Lord has made.

tidings of discomfort and joy

The gaps between postings seem to be increasing; don’t know why I tell you that, presumably you’d already noticed. Sundry muscular aches and pains almost got the better of me during recent weeks, not so much the intensity of pain (barely halfway up the scale) but rather a disconcerting all pervasive sense of dis-ease. At present it feels as if a generalized discomfort proves more disabling than spasmodic acutely intense pain.

The question constantly arises whether codeine, tramadol or any general painkiller can tackle these dull persistently nagging aches. On occasion simply putting on wrist, elbow and shoulder supports seems to alleviate all but a background purring nausea, at others only the combination of pills and  strappings seem to do the trick.

It’s strange that some nights, following on from a more comfortable day, the discomfort only begins its nagging and gnawing routine when I attempt to settle down to sleep; brief interludes of dream laden sleep interrupt my sadly familiar restlessness. At times I could swear that the amitriptyline is working as a stimulant rather than benefitting me with its supposed gently sedative properties.

For the past several nights I’ve pre-emptively dosed myself with tramadol before retiring au lit but, I’ll never know whether it’s the medications efficacy that grants me a more comfortable (albeit still unrefreshing) night’s rest, or have these nights just happened to be ones that were destined to be more comfortable anyway.

At its worst the discomfort is such that I become nauseatingly ill at ease inside my own skin ….

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I’m now beginning to see a reason for not posting; all the preceding spilt out as if I’m having a miserable life whereas in fact I continue to feel rather blessed.

My love for ma belle grows ever deeper and, what’s more, that love is reciprocated. The assurance that one is loved somehow overwhelms life’s more negative aspects, simultaneously building one’s reserves of emotional stamina in readiness for the ongoing struggle for justice and compassion for all.

Having always been of a somewhat gregarious disposition I still, not infrequently, find myself mourning the loss of the ability to socialize (other than on the most modestly minimal scale) but still feel fortunate that I can enjoy all kinds of music and drama via television, radio, and sundry recorded formats. It’s strange the way that sudden unexpected sounds can serve to shatter my nerves, almost crushing the breath out of me, whilst dramatic transitions in a musical score never (or perhaps very rarely) seem to play such a disruptive role.

The garden too is a source of constant delight and refreshment, even when it’s getting a bit out of hand, and the avian activity (viewed from the comfort of a supportive high-backed armchair) is a constant source of pleasure.

Come to think of it, perhaps the reason I’m not posting so regularly is that I’m far too busy appreciating life!

Cussing and Tears

For someone who needs / requires a minimum sleep & bed rest of at least twelve hours per night, things take a quite dramatic turn when medications fail to support the necessary restfulness. Last night / this morning proved a cussingly tearful case in point; the cussing, tossing, turning and stamping during the night, the tears on late emergence into the daylight hours.

Having taken an overdue shower, mid-evening, I seriously anticipated a good night’s sleep as I mounted the stairs en route to beddy byes. A quick brush of the teeth, followed by a casting off of the dressing gown, and I was ready to snuggle down with my beloved. No matter how tired I felt, golden slumbers had little or no intention of passing my way.

Crushingly searing pains in the left arm, coupled with muscle spasms in the lower limbs, conspired against the best laid plans. It wasn’t long before the lightweight pyjama jacket, which began to feel unduly constrictive, had to be cast off and, I then tried to apply the wrist splint, which has on many occasions seemed to alleviate the intense discomfort in the upper limb. Arms stretched downwards, both under and over the duvet, then stretched behind my back followed by stretching them above my head; none of this solves the extreme discomfort. Next I try lying on my left side, lying on the right side, lying on my front with arms crossed under my pillow but none of this helps. The discomfort screamingly intensifies.

 Having taken amitriptyline during the evening, I now reluctantly resort to 2x50mg tramadol but, even these seem to have little effect. Eventually, sometime after 3.00am, some snatches of sleep; vividly Technicolor naturalistic dreams haunt me back to wakefulness. A time of hopeful waiting follows, hopeful that I may soon revisit the land of nod; I drift back into slumber and a different dream.

When I eventually feel more awake, and find sufficient stamina to remove myself from the duvet lair donning daytime clothing, I’m suddenly overwhelmed by tears of intense frustration. Suddenly, I can’t help feeling that this health-imposed lifestyle is letting life pass me by. It’s only very rarely that I can venture beyond the neighbourhood high street, even that becoming an effort at times, that even the pleasure I derive from the home garden and aquarium begins to wane. I certainly couldn’t manage without the loving tenderness, care and caresses, of ma belle Helen but, at the same time, I feel utterly guilty and upset by the stress I must be causing her.

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This post also appears on 'Mal's Murmurings' as "a self-pitying yelp of frustration"

False Hopes

Regular readers may have noted my problems with exhaustion and a corresponding lack of refreshing sleep. Much of the time it has not been quite as simple as lack of refreshing sleep, more a lack of sleep (full stop). Out of my current average twelve hours bed rest requirement, a good night’s sleep could be as little as three and a half hours. It’s commonly said that as one gets older they require less sleep but, in my case, when it comes to the amount of bed rest required, this has most markedly increased.

In my youthful heyday the nights when I spent as much as eight hours abed (during the working week) were very much the exception; any hours in excess of this on non-working days were most definitely a pampering luxury, rarely a necessity as they are now.

I have been finding relief from some of the daily aches, pains and spasms, through a combination of tramadol, ibuprofen sundry orthopaedic supports; unfortunately, this still doesn’t prevent intensely discomforting pains interfering with my desire, from a state of shatteredness, to get some sleep. On such occasions, even lightweight pyjama jackets and / or trousers feel like intensely constrictive pain dispensers in their own right.

A couple of months ago the GP put me on a small dose of (the anti-depressant) mirtazapine in the hope that its sedative effect would help me get some shuteye. For a week or two it certainly seemed to be helping, even though it could still take a good couple of hours of excruciating tiredness before mind and body yielded to the land of nod. Some of the more intense pains in the region of the armpit and upper inner arm persistently nagged me back into a fully wakeful state. The doctor has now added an additional anti-depressant, amitriptylene, to my evening medications primarily for its supposed analgesic effect.

Having benefitted from a couple of pain-free, almost completely restful, nights my hopes really began to build up. Yesterday, having taken a couple of tramadol late morning, I felt no need to take further painkillers for the rest of the day, simply taking the mirtazapine and amitripylene in the evening. What followed was the most agonizingly painful sleepless night; admittedly it wasn’t helped by the highly amplified sound pulses emanating (until 2.30am) from a private party a couple of blocks away. A fair bit of time was spent stomping and cussing around the bedroom and landing, experimenting with wrist, shoulder and elbow supports, as well as consuming a couple more tramadol. The pain eventually began to ease by around 4.30am but, my mind was (by then) far too active to permit me any slumbers. Thankfully, by mid-morning I attained some brief, dream-filled, spasmodic patches of slumber.

I am attempting to retain a degree of hope that the recently prescribed medications will eventually fulfil their prescribed function but, it feels rather like a hope against hope!  

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since my previous post I have added a few more snapshots, 'the fuschia is present', to 'Mal's Picturebox'.