and so it goes ...

For the past few weeks my health, and emotions, have been on something of a roller-coaster ride; it’s difficult enough living with chronic-illness / chronic pain but, when more mundane bugs (doing the rounds) place an additional burden on one’s already low stamina reserves, an unwelcome veneer of despair enters the frame. Fortunately, these more mundane viral attacks tend to dissipate after a couple of weeks, but never before time.

Exhaustion still seems to hold control of the reigns, even when one is experiencing an apparently more alert and energized spell. As agonizing pain & exhaustion takes control so one’s temper frays and, against one’s better judgement, expletives tend to fill the air.

This evening the pain in upper limbs, joints and lymph nodes, has defied the efficacy of 100mg of tramadol. Malcolm is not a happy bunny but, still manages to put on a brave smiling face in an attempt to deceive himself. More happily, I am still fortunate enough to be capable of deriving tremendous enjoyment from a catholicity of music, DVDs, poetry and paintings.

ACHES and GAINS

Just when you think you’ve recovered from the roller-coaster ride, a sudden smack of reality makes you realize that you’ve stepped onto the ferris wheel and this time it’s supercharged. Stomach and oesophagus have never felt so close, a moderate underlying nausea takes on a more prominent role. The head feels giddy as if too much time has been spent on the ‘waltzer’, and knees, ankles and elbows throb as if stray balls from the coconut shy have found fresh targets.

You’ve maybe guessed it, I’m talking payback; a reasonable period of (partial) remission had almost persuaded me that life had been restored to normality. As I’m now into the fifteenth year since my collapse, succumbing to ME (myalgic encephalomyelitis), one would think I’d know better than to miscalculate my reserves of stamina. I’m not talking of any undue exertion, just twenty minutes of mowing the lawn with an electric powered mower seems to have knocked me back. Mind you, this additional exertion came at a time when I’m just coming to the end of a course of antibiotics and antimicrobials.

These additional medications had been prescribed as a result of a visit to A&E at the district hospital last Thursday evening, following a flare-up of diverticulitis (and probably gall bladder as well). There have been many occasions recently when I’ve felt as if my moderate ME had turned to a milder form but then, brainfog, alongside excruciating discomfort in upper and lower limbs, and nagging pains variably dispersed around the torso, randomly exert their authority.

Putting those ailments aside, I am fortunate that I am still able to enjoy listening to a wide range of music (via CD, radio and vinyl sources) and am generally able to accompany Piper (our beagle – podenco  rescue dog) and my beloved OH Helen on short evening walks. A few years ago there were occasions when it seemed / felt like an effort too far]just to walk the few yards to the corner of our road. I really miss it when I’m not able to manage these short walks but the love and attention, received and given, by Piper compensates more than a little, and I’m still amazed at the therapeutic value of this charismatic canine.

An additional source of joy is provided by not infrequent visits from our grandson Alexander, now in his ninth month of bringing and receiving an abundance of smiles to the house. Piper is intrigued by Alexander, even though he’s never sure of how to take the infant’s reciprocal interest; the boy stretches out to feel / stroke Piper but has already managed to grab his tail on one occasion as well as being drawn to his ears (always a sensitive part of the pooch’s anatomy).

Aching Days and Restless Nights

Do you ever get the feeling that the soles of your shoes are sprung lead platforms; the bass notes, from each drudge-like clomping step, resonating through the apparently hollow tubes that connect each ankle to the knee bone. Forgot to add the feeling that the tube walls themselves are composed of compressed felt, specially treated to retain an aching bruised sensation. Each several yards travelled feels like a half marathon. To be quite honest though, those are not my best days, and as for the worst days even those several yards would be well nigh impossible!

At other times there are the joyous shattered sleep deprived nights, frequently starting with a disconcerting and discomforting acute ache in the upper arm, armpit and elbow, or fitful muscular spasms in the lower limbs, a generalized sense of disorientation swiftly takes over. A complete nauseating distraction from the sleep intention seems itself incapable of distraction; sore throat, nausea, tenderness of lymph nodes, and a refreshing of one’s IBS symptoms are just about par for these wee small hours disturbances.

It always seems quite ridiculous that the more one requires refreshing sleep, the more difficult it is to attain. Neither striving nor yielding seems to result in the anticipated balm!

Ailments aside, I feel truly blessed in the warmth of my relationship with Helen, my beloved OH, and constantly wallow in (and yearn for) her presence. Although I can no longer cope with cinema, theatre, jazz club or concert going, I still have, and revel in, the opportunity via sundry technologies to enjoy music, film and concerts. This enjoyment is always enhanced when the experience is shared with ma belle!

At times our garden is so full of avian activity that it is a privilege quite simply to be sat in my armchair observing all their comings and goings. Come to think of it, I am truly blessed and surprisingly content much of the time!

of enjoyment, endeavours and frustrating limitations

I’m just so grateful that I became more alert as Tuesday afternoon progressed. By early evening I really felt on good form as Beth, Helen and myself enjoyed a meal at Brios to celebrate Beth’s birthday. I do feel really blessed with such an adorable wife and wonderful step-daughters, they have made my life so much richer.

Although it took quite a while to settle down to sleep, after dining out, I didn’t have too bad a night’s rest albeit with the far too familiar intermittent bouts of sleep! Wednesday morning, I ventured out into the garden by 11.00am to perform a few minor chores, the primary one being to split up a clump of globe thistles (echinops ritro) which had rather outgrown their particular situation. I potted up a small clump, to set aside for a friend who had expressed an interest in them. No sooner had that task been performed than Cathy arrived to visit us, and join us for lunch, just before she was due to head off back to her work in Switzerland. I must admit I was grateful for the break.

Late afternoon found ma belle et moi back out in the garden. This time I transplanted some of the thistles, elsewhere in the garden, before shovelling out some of the wonderful humus from the bottom of our compost bin. The latter task proved quite exhausting and, it wasn’t too long before I found myself achingly on the verge of collapse. I thought it wise to listen to my body! My beloved supervised me as I took a shower before settling down to a very lazy evening. Even though I felt exhaustedly tired when I retired au lit, at about 10.00pm, an extremely restless night followed. Intermittent sleep took over from around 4.00am and I finally emerged into a beautiful new day at around 11.00am. It seems that, these days, regardless of my levels of activity / inactivity, my bed rest requirement is generally between 11 and 13 hours.

Earlier attempts to write this blog were thwarted by a nausea inducing discomfort emanating from the armpits. It’s really hard to describe this sensation, which forces me to clamp my arms tightly to my side or stretch them behind my back but, it totally disrupts any attempt to concentrate on reading or web-surfing. I’ve discovered that this type of discomfort can, occasionally, be moderately alleviated by applying my arms to a more directly physical activity but that’s entirely dependent on my having a sufficient reserve of stamina.

Of (Arm)Pits and Pendulum

A private resolve, to refrain from further postings until I felt more upbeat (on the health / well-being front), has now dissolved; I’m afraid that you’ll just have to take me as I am! I have no particular desire to be / become a moaner but, nor do I see any point of omitting mention of the sundry aches and, occasionally searing, pains ones flesh is heir to. For good or not so good, I am the result of all my life experiences whether chosen by or imposed upon me.


You may have previously gathered that this has not been one of my better years, any kind of relapse is unwelcome but, I still remain grateful that I have not had to plumb the most excruciating depths this wretched illness (M.E.) can deal out. I am most fortunate in only being a moderate sufferer but, even that moderation has at times proved quite intensely disabling.


And now, for the fifth or sixth time in as many days, I return to this same page in ‘Word’ in the hope that a sufficiency of stamina and a release from having to clasp my upper arms tightly to my torso (to alleviate the intense discomfort emanating from my armpits in normal free flow positions) may coincide to enable the completion of this posting.


The sharp nauseating ache and throb in the armpit is a tactile equivalent to chalk “squealing” across a blackboard. At other times an unexpected sound, not even necessarily of sufficient decibels to call a noise, can seem to sear through my flesh and crush the ribs. It’s almost as if my nerve-ends, in attempting to tread carefully on eggshells, all too startlingly draw ones attention to their own discretionary priorities.


I must admit to some uncomfortable guilt feelings in, once again, being / feeling unable to contemplate a few days away whilst my beloved has a break from work; to be honest, I even have to steel myself to cope with trips out to locations within ten or twenty minutes drive from home.


On the plus side I did manage a visit, with ma belle, to a local garden centre on Thursday and, we really enjoyed a visit to ‘Brio’ for a delicious meal yesterday afternoon. In the evening we immersed ourselves in Almadovar’s movie ‘All about My Mother’ which we’d recorded from Film 4. At lunch time today, accompanied by Cathy, we popped around to Café Culture for a little light lunch before returning home to wallow in the emotional riches of ‘Toy Story 3’.

Of LIMITATIONS and ENJOYMENT

OF LIMITATIONS and ENJOYMENT

Middle of the night and nature called; an attempted leap out of bed became the more familiar slowly lumbering self removal only, this time, with added difficulties. For the past two or three days the back pains had all but disappeared, only the more regular  discomfort remaining in its stead but, now it seems to have returned with a vengeance. It’s strange how one’s own body delights in playing tricks; just when you think it safe, to carry out an effort of moderate exertion, it sends out a disconcerting alarm signal. If only that signal was as transient as that of an alarm clock, disappearing as soon as one taps the necessary button, there would not be a problem but, unfortunately, these signals are not of that peremptory nature which curtails one’s pursuit of the (unwittingly) harmful course of action. These signals always seem to arrive after the harm has been done, swiftly transmuting the alarm call into a sustained aggravation.

So, you may well wonder, what transgression had I committed against my ailing torso? All I’d been doing was carrying out a partial filter and water change in our largest aquarium, changing two of the filter pads and performing a less than 20% water change. I could (almost) swear that I carefully controlled my posture during the entire operation, to minimize the risk of detrimental health effects, but my body makes a different declaration.

Prior to that minor operation I’d made a visit, with my beloved chauffeuse, to the local aquarists to replenish necessary supplies. The journey is approximately 2 ½ miles but, as is becoming an increasingly common experience, it felt like a major expedition; even travelling at speeds which never exceed the legal limit, on primarily suburban roads, can seem  like  we’re exceeding Mach 1 – my body  crying out in reaction to the velocity at which we’re hurtling through space. 

The whole sensory overload experience seems once again, and most regrettably, to be edging its way into taking control of my lived experience. I’m just hoping and praying that I won’t tumble once again into that convulsively shattering realm.

Strange as it may seem, apart from the sundry ailments which posit substantial limitations on my activities, I do continue to enjoy life. The simple pleasure of observing, and encouraging, the flora and fauna of our garden is a wonderful joy bringer, second only to the presence of my beloved. As I’m no longer able to cope with cinema or theatre-going, the increasingly wide range of films available on DVD proves a real blessing. My enjoyment of cooking, provided a fair range of herbs and spices are to hand, is another source of pleasure, as is the consumption of the end product! I must admit that much of the time I don’t really feel unwell, sundry muscular and glandular aches and spasms have quite simply become an accepted component of normality; it’s only when i attempt to stretch my activity output that I’m quite forcefully reminded of my limitations.

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in case you missed yesterday's frivolous posting on 'Mal's Murmurings' I've repeated it here :

A Nation’s Addiction?

A radio news bulletin informs me that we’re becoming a nation of TV addicts, adding “according to a survey of viewers“!

They should try surveying non-viewers, only to discover that nobody ever watches TV in the UK!

 

In Everything Give Thanks

Although the day started rather muggy, despite a moderately forceful breeze, the atmosphere became fresher as the day progressed; a welcome opportunity to sit beside the pond surveying our modest estate. It’s one of those times when I’m rather overwhelmed by gratitude for these simple delights right on my own doorstep. The sudden sighting of a few baby frogs, emerging from the gardens southern border and, other more mature specimens whose camouflage prevented me from spotting them amongst the ponds vegetation.

 

First thing this morning, bearing in mind that my “first thing” is usually a couple of hours after my other half has gone off to work, I notice a manila envelope on the doormat from the DWP (Department of Work and Pensions) and, it’s with relief that I discover that the next medical assessment review, regarding my Incapacity Benefit, will be due on 8 July 2013. The actual date becomes something of an irrelevance as I will be in receipt of a State Pension from June next year! One side of me thinks it would be really great if I was able to present myself as fit for employment before that date even; at least that would mean I was well enough to pursue some of my former social pursuits. Fortunately, our financial needs are relatively modest; we don’t go in for an extravagant lifestyle even though the wine-cellar suggests otherwise!

 

This morning I ventured down to ‘Open Church’, for coffee and a chat, where the narthex was a real hive of activity as differing groups of toddlers and infants spontaneously and positively interacted. It’s always a treat to catch up with some of the regular, and not so regular, visitors to these weekday coffee mornings. On my return to the homestead, it was great to enjoy the aforementioned outdoor inactivity. I did manage to exert myself sufficiently to transplant a few of the overcrowded tomato plants from the greenhouse to a sheltered spot in the garden border.  [Actually, they were rather sickly specimens which I’d already put out freestanding in their pots, where the wind far too regularly took advantage of their precarious stance!]

a glorious compensation

The garden is alive with cheeps, twitters and chirps, as generations of our avian friends share the feeders and the wilder area of the garden. Wherever one looks, the garden is abuzz with their activity. Juveniles squeal, wings all a tremble, seeking attention, their gapes extended in eager anticipation.

I always enjoy these garden gatherings; the species may be common enough, starlings, blackbirds, collar doves, wood pigeons, house sparrows and dunnocks, being the most frequent attendees. Blue tits and coal tits weave their flight between feeders, shrubs and plants – I suspect a lot of greenfly and other bugs are being garnered to feed their young.

Each time I wander to the kitchen door, for the occasional nicotine fix, I’m cheered to hear the glorious concatenation of bird song; a glorious compensation on those days when either the elements or lack of stamina prevent me from pottering around out there myself.

Apologia Paucitas

I guess it’s a combination of omnipresent distractions and feeling rather drained that has led to the paucity of blog postings of late. Sometimes, it seems as if the PC suffers almost as much from “brain fog” as do I. When the computer has its silly little glitches, I get so hung up on resolving them that fiddling about with programmes etc. takes the place of purposeful use of the machine. I love those moments when, after hours of frustration, one can simply rest back on one’s laurels having thwarted its best laid obstacles; oh the glow of self-satisfaction!

Mind you, there are always more little tasks to perform, around the house and in the garden, than stamina reserves permit the serious contemplation of. Or to put it another way, the contemplation is as great an endeavour as I can manage.

Recent weeks have seen an increase in my already sizeable bed-rest requirement; although I’m usually managing to remove myself from the duvet realm whilst it’s still morning, my hour of retirement has advanced somewhat. It’s strange how exhaustion suddenly overwhelm one; by the time I get up the stairs, I no longer have the stamina or patience to brush my teeth. The effort of getting undressed, without confusing myself, is challenging enough. The more exhausted I become, the more fitful the sleep pattern but, this doesn’t preclude an abundance of vivid naturalistic dreams at some point when a more general somnolence yields to the arms of Morpheus.

No matter how prolonged the bouts of sleep, it almost invariably proves unrefreshing; mid-morning usually finds a distinctly under par Malcolm, headachy, catarrhal, painful sinuses, ears, and tender glands. Apart from that, the sundry other muscular and joint pains proffer only a minor degree of discomfort at present, so maybe some things are picking up.

Sorry, I don’t want this to sound like I’m complaining; I really do enjoy my more alert moments and, thank God for the gift of family, friends, food in the belly and the privilege of observing all the piscine and avian activity in the garden. Just having the time to sit and stare is a rich gift in and of itself.

I trust that somewhere, in that jumble of words, you will discover the reason / excuse for the paucity of postings.

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This post also appears on 'Mals Murmurings'

Mal the Aquarist

Today's blog posting, An aquarists trials and pleasures, can be found on 'Mal's Murmurings'.

Mal Steps Out

Today's posting, STEPPING OUT, can be found on 'Mal's Murmurings'

A Patronizing Post

An eventful day, by the standards of yours truly; having roused myself into a state of semi-alertness, after a mere 10 ½ hours bed rest, I girded up my loins to venture into town. At least ma belle chauffeuse found a reasonably convenient parking spot before we ambled our way down to the Christmas Fayre at Wesley Chapel. It was really heart-warming to find that many of the stalls were making funds for worthwhile causes, Save The Children, Traidcraft, Palestinian handicrafts and, even a stall selling hand-made greetings cards for which the proceeds were going to support work in Nigeria. I’m not really one for buying at Christmas Fayres but, as I’m certainly in favour of supporting these causes, I set aside my usual reservations.

As we made our way back through town it was good to see a Ladies Morris Team dancing outside of the shopping centre, a really festive touch, as well as one or two talented buskers. So frequently the combination of the words talent and busker can seem paradoxical.

After lunch, my beloved suggest we patronize one of the local clothes shops so, I duly intended to say, “What brave souls you are, struggling on in the local community, boldly standing your ground against e-commerce and out of town retail parks!”, but then I thought that this would be too patronizing. Deep down, I had suspected that my beloved meant to make a purchase at this local shop; oh the ambiguities of the word patronize. Ma belle’s attention was swiftly drawn to an outfit that had caught her eye when it formed part of the window display a few weeks ago. The problem of finding a present for the lady who is privileged to be my spouse was resolved in one fell swoop.

After each of these forays, it was really good to slump back into a comfortable supporting armchair! Not for some time, has so much been accomplished, by this stoical wimp, within such a relatively short time span.

Come late afternoon, it was time to metaphorically don my chef’s hat and make preparations for tomorrow’s dinner. Firstly I sliced some chicken breast fillets, onions and peppers, and prepared an olive oil based paste of coriander, paprika, cumin, turmeric, and garlic in the bottom of the wok. Once this was sizzling threw in the onion rings, to be followed by the sliced peppers and chicken. A few sliced mushrooms were thrown into the mix for good measure. After a bit of vigorous stirring, decided to mix a miso solution (my beloved having just excavated a jar of miso in the course of a very belated spring clean); this, with a generous sprinkling of dried basil added, was duly poured into the wok and left to simmer.

The contents of the wok have now been dispersed into two casserole dishes, ready to be popped into the oven on Sunday and Monday respectively. And now, I’m lost in wonder, love and praise as I watch Helen prepare a posting for her Bright Light blog.

Mechanical Breaks

Saturday morning was a time to break the relative silence of the garden with a bit of mechanical intrusion. Both strimmer and hedge trimmer, which share a common electrical lead, fortunately making it impossible to wield both simultaneously, were brought out of hibernation, the more efficiently to perform the decapitation of meadow grass, trees and hedgerows. Actually decapitation is not quite the right word, rather a productive mutilation.

Only later were the loppers brought into action, as I started to prune back some of the topmost prolific growth on the largest of our fruit trees. To my own surprise, and that of my beloved, I had actually started this travail at a time, 10.00am, when I would normally still be ensconced in the duvet lair.

It’s always something of a mystery that, the cutting back of vegetative growth should in fact enable stronger and fuller growth the following season. A couple of hours of exertion and perspiration later, I decided (to my wife’s relief) that it wouldn’t be very wise to attempt more. Even that couple of hours, I was later to discover, was sufficient to cause a (relievedly) minor setback; this “pacing” game is never as easy to manage as one would suppose. I so frequently make the mistake of comparing my current stamina output with that of a few short years ago. I’ve got to admit that the exertion initially makes me feel good, and I do so enjoy looking after the garden, but I never like the repercussions.

When one has spent a considerable amount of time in a numbingly aching fatigued state, it makes a pleasant change to be able to blame a particular bout of activity for some of the more extremely painful exhaustion. Fortunately my bounce-back time seems more efficient these days; the pacing is working after all!

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This budding remote control helicopter pilot continues to make progress, replacement propeller blades being less frequently required. Training is temporarily on hold as I await the delivery of a couple of tail-frame assemblies, the current one being fractured in four places. It’s amazing how many obstacles one has to try and avoid within the confines of ones garden.

It Might As Well Be Spring

Last night the stars were so brightly sharp, it almost felt like one was viewing every marker of the constellations, rather than the odd solitary frontiersman. Of course, after such nocturnal clarity, a sharp frost swathed the ground by morning. By mid-day though, I was sat out on the bench beside the garden pond in shirt-sleeves; can this really be the north of England at the beginning of February.

After yesterday’s endeavours, relaxation was of the essence and, after a short time, I was able to ignore 90% of my muscular and joint aches and pains; these were of course my reward for Friday’s efforts. Meantime, my beloved had donned her gardening gear and, womanfully tackled some necessary tidying up. For me, gardening became a delightful spectator sport! Mind you, I enjoy watching ma belle whether relaxing or endeavouring; I’m just so proud to be her other half.

Several ladybirds clambered through the undergrowth and, a cirrus cloud of midges’ hyperactivated above the pond. Bliss was it in that day…, as I basked in the gently warming sunglow. The highlight of my inactivity was a formation flight of honking geese overhead; an open umbrella headed the flight, with two small inverted V’s immediately below its shelter. A larger V formation followed, with a straight line completing the arrow-like direction marker. As they moved away, I revelled in the gentle oscillation of their synchronized flapping wings as they soared across the clear blue sky.

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

Mal Mutters On!

Today's blog posting, CATCHING UP WITH MYSELF, can be found on 'Mal's Murmurings'.

Just An ORDINARY Day?

There’s no such thing as an ordinary day, albeit I too often consider them as regular events. Each new moment is just that, new; “you can’t step into the same river twice”, come to think of it, you can’t even step into the same river once! All is in a constant state of flux, we are swamped with new events, decisions, purposes etc., and so, what can possibly be ordinary about it?

On other occasions, we may protest that a day has been uneventful when, what we really mean is that there have been no dramatic incidents or, we’ve not met anybody new, or we drank the same type of coffee as we did yesterday. Sorry, but if you really need a gangland slaying on the doorstep for you to make the effort to get out of bed and go about your daily chores, give me the mundane.

For me, time passes all too swiftly, even when my sole function is to sit and breathe, and stare into space, for great chunks of it. And, of course, there are always decisions to make; do I get some breakfast before I get dressed, do I feel sufficiently energised to take a shower or, do I get dressed now and take a shower later (if I really need it)? All these decisions are made in my first state of semi-alertness after a restless, or even a more restful, nights sleep. And there’s questions to be asked, vital topics like “did the dream wake me up?” or “what exactly was that dream about?”, “is it really Tuesday already?”

Each day is full of excitement and demands, sometimes the demands are too great to cope with; dare I risk seeming lazy if I don’t do it; if I perform such and such a task will I suffer from some sort of post-exertional malaise?

Today has been an atypical ordinary day. I managed to consume the coffee, which my beloved had left on the bedside table before going off to work, whilst it was still reasonably hot. Removed myself, slowly, from the duvet realm, checked my e-mails before getting dressed and, half drowsily stumbled my way downstairs to grab a banana and a bowl of cereal. A reasonably brisk hobble to the local shops then ensued. Next I illuminated the small aquarium and, subsequently fed the inhabitants thereof. A similar practise was involved in dealing with the main aquarium.

When my beloved returned from work, I prepared a delicious lightly spiced and generously herbed trout and peppers dish served with wholegrain pasta, which we eagerly devoured in the joyously stimulating company of Ross Noble (Radio 4 – 6.30pm). In the early evening I managed to sort out a recurring problem my beloved has been having, with ‘Word’, on the computer at work. To solve it, I had to first recreate it from my beloved’s verbal description. Having recreated the problem, it took little time to resolve!

So my halo has been well and truly buffed up by the encouraging response from my other half. Amidst all that activity, I even remembered to sort out a bottle to pop in the fridge; the consumption of its vinous content is imminent.

This has been an ordinary day indeed. Long live ordinary days!

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

Rise and Shine

Much of the morning was sunshiny and bright, although most of my information on that score results from an interpretative process, assessing the degree of brightness which penetrated the bedroom curtains. Although my body demanded an early night, last evening, I still found it impossible to release myself from the duvet realm before 11.15AM.

First port of call was the bathroom where, my beloved having securely installed a shower seat, I was able to luxuriate in its warmly soothing spray. Although the aches and pains, emanating from the Achilles tendon, have considerably subsided during the past few days (the meloxicam, codeine and paracetamol diet having a degree of success) I am still unable to take the amount of exercise that I’d gradually built up to over the preceding twelve months.

On Friday, Helen dropped me off at ‘Open Church’ where I enjoyed chatting with a few of the old faithfuls but, the walk back home proved a rather fatiguing experience, especially with the battle against a bustling wind which misguidedly attempted to aid me on my journey. Yesterday, I managed to attend a coffee morning at the neighbourhood chapel, with my beloved who then chauffeured me down for lunch at ‘The Park’ (formerly ‘The Hornbeam’) our local Brewer’s Fayre which has attempted, much to our disgust to go a little more upmarket. Having got up the nerve to venture in there, for the first time since the revamp/refurbishment last September, the experience proved most rewarding.

Dining out can be a pleasant experience, as long as I don’t expect it to produce the quality of food that I manage to prepare. The general ambience of ‘The Park’ proved cosily welcoming, unexpectedly so considering they describe themselves as a venue for ‘Contemporary Dining & Drinking’. I am pleased to report, a surprisingly unpretentious ambience and menu; a comfortably relaxed lunchtime experience!

So, I return to the bright sunshiny morning, although my first venture out was strictly speaking early afternoon. I hobbled along to the local 7-11 shop for a packet of cigs, shortly after noon, enjoying the crisp brightness rather more than my right leg appreciated the stick assisted exertion. This ten minute venture provided sufficient exercise to see me through the remainder of the day.

Before the tendon inflammation entered my life experience, I’d managed to reduce my nocturnal bed rest requirement to between 10 and 10 ½ hours but, following the limb directed major sleep deprivation it has recently increased to between 11 and 13 hours. Some severe disciplining may be called for!

Pillow Talk

After what has been my best Christmas for years, health-wise, the familiar tiredness and sundry aches, pains and sensitivities have returned with a vengeance. Although I failed to emerge from the duvet-realm, on Christmas Day, until well after (unbeknown to me) our guests had arrived, the day passed really well. Obviously, the ‘Journey To Bethlehem’, and subsequent viewing of Midnight Mass on TV, had taken a little toll on my stamina but, I still managed to remain in good spirits throughout the day without recourse to the seclusion of the bedroom.

By Boxing Day severe back pains had returned, alongside aching muscles in both arms and lower limbs. On Wednesday, after a late emergence into a day spent struggling with a frustratingly painful locking back, I had to call it quits before 8.30 in the evening. An additional pillow, under my legs proved indispensable, although its position underwent frequent changes, horizontally across my side of the bed behind my knees then, turned end on to proffer support from ankle to thigh. As the night ached along, the pillow was doubled up under my knees, whilst an additional support pillow was placed under my head.

Each laborious turn, from back to side, from full stretch to foetal curl, found me torn between a scream and tears. A tingling band, around the right calf, was swiftly transmuted into a full blown cramp before its further conversion into a pulsing sharp bruise-like pain, which seemed to percolate through every sinew of the offending limb. In the early hours, I struggled down the stairs to grab a cigarette and take some pain killers. On occasion the pain was more intense as I rested it on the floor but, at other times the discomfort was more intense as I raised it. A struggle back upstairs ensued and, I enjoyed an early morning cuppa with my beloved.

Ma belle assisted me in getting dressed, and saw me safely down the stairs once more, before she departed for work. The last couple of days have found me reluctantly resorting to a varied diet of Codeine Phosphate, Co-Codamol, Paracetamol and Ibuprofen tablets, despite my marked reluctance to take painkillers. In order to prevent any lapse into self-pity, I decided to venture down to Open Church, an intention swiftly thwarted by the lower limbs desire to collapse after each couple of steps.

My qualitative leap forward, in terms of my enjoyment of Christmas festivities, will prove a tremendous boost in my attempt to overcome the subsequent steps back!

I can still rejoice in this day the Lord has made.

Bank Holiday Monday

Although my sole occupation is “pacing myself”, no formal employment, I still enjoy a Bank Holiday. When I was in formal employment, I not infrequently worked on those days and, alternatively, would remain at home rather than follow the lemmings to overcrowded beauty spots. The real treat, these days, is that it provides me with an extra day in the company of my beloved; this is the most precious aspect of my life, I always feel more complete when I’m sharing my time and affection with ma belle Helene.

We’ve managed to do a little sorting out in the house, re-arranging the bedroom which we intend to move into when we finally get round to ordering a new bed. I also managed to cut back some of the briars at the wildlife end of the garden whilst Helen gathered a few more brambles. Blackberries and apples are both available in abundance this year; it gives ma belle amoureuse a chance to practise her baking skills, preparing fruit sponges and crumbles.

The day seems to have passed all too swiftly.

I rejoice in this day the Lord has made.

An Exceptional Day

Yesterday was quite an exceptional day for me, in terms of utilization of my somewhat maudlin reserves of physical and emotional stamina; I even managed to flex my concentration muscle a little in the earlier part of the day.

Firstly, I managed to spend a full twenty minutes reading a book, before releasing myself from the duvet cocoon and, although I slightly overstayed my allocated period of bed rest, I still managed to shake the haze out of my brain, and the fog from my field of vision, by the time I’d grabbed a bowl of cereal. To actually have shoes on my feet (shortly) before 11.00AM made quite a change too.

Next I chivvied myself to take a brief stroll to ‘Open Church’ to share coffee, biscuits, and a natter with some of the regulars and, renew acquaintance with others. After a short time there, I veered into one of my legendary hot-flushes, thankfully in a reasonably moderate key, but Isabel (an octogenarian veteran of these coffee supping occasions) was quick to say, “hot flushes Malcolm … is there a big secret you’ve been keeping from us?” As if to, perversely, emphasize my masculine pride, I told her that my hot flushes could outshine the best my beloved ever came up with!

Forty-five to fifty minutes later, I hit the road again, for a leisurely stroll back home. After a little rest, I entered the cyberspace surfing realm, checking e-mails, friends postings on ‘MySpace’ and, a cursory skim through the lead items in various online newspapers. A time of drift followed, to the accompanying strains of (BBC )Radio 4 & Radio 3 until my beloved returned from work. Having prepared a little transcontinental pasta, eagerly devoured by the two of us, more exercise was to follow as we wandered off, hand in hand, into the sunset for a 35 minute reasonably brisk walk.

Neither the degree of exercise, nor the socializing, was even on my agenda in the early part of the year. It truly was an exceptional day!

Today has remained lower key; my furthest venturing has been from bedroom to living room, living room to kitchen and, the odd ambling move to the garden pond. My earliest visit to the pond, this morning, resulted in the gentle eruption of a new poem; the poem ‘Morning Song’ can be read on Mal’s Factory or at Hirsute Antiquity.