a REAL Pain in the .... just another day

Why don’t they come and release the clamps … why don’t they come and RELEASE THE CLAMPS? Stupid thing is there aren’t any clamps and, even if there were, there’s no-one around to free me from them. I’m just slowly recovering from one of those all too familiar attacks where throbbing aches and pains in upper arms, wrists, elbows, knees and ankles arrive in an apparently choreographed simultaneity.

It’s not that I’d been doing too much either; I arose from my un-refreshing sleep at around 10.15am, had a small breakfast and browsed a newspaper (online) for about fifteen minutes and then just sat, stroked the dog and made a little fuss of him, before venturing out into the big wide-world. At around 1.15pm I was chauffeured into town, by ma belle Helen, to browse and purchase one or two DVDs for my birthday, utilizing a voucher received (on my birthday) a few weeks ago.

The purchasing venture proved successful and, we were back at home within an hour from stepping out. Judging by the greeting received from Piper, our delightful canine boy, you’d have thought we had been away for days; frantic tail wags, barks of delight and excited bodily contortions were all part of his display menu.

Shortly after our return home I prepared dinner for Helen and myself, one of my own recipes, a Kedgeree cum Byriani. The meal proved most satisfactory, after which I relaxed a while, listening to Bruckner’s 7^th Symphony (compliments of Radio 3). After this relaxation interlude, I began to feel uncomfortably exhausted and, hints of the painful bodily niggles were already apparent. I went to recline on the larger sofa, with the intention of watching a DVD but, by now, the niggles were intensifying and a dose of tramadol was in order.

Next thing, I was having to curl up, arms stretched between my legs, legs randomly (and arbitrarily) thrown over the back of the sofa and, of necessity my upper arms clamped tightly to my torso. By this time, the discomfort in my toes, feeling as if my socks were applying an excruciating pressure to the knuckles of these digits, had also kicked in. I think I managed to view the first twenty minutes of the DVD before having to clamp my face tightly against the sofa back.

Elements of these nausea inducing, expletive demanding, symptoms are almost a daily occurrence at present although, I must admit, were of a slightly more disconcerting intensity this afternoon. Spending more than a quite limited time using a laptop, or holding a newspaper or book, regularly induces a squirm inducing discomfort in armpits, elbow and wrists but, although I enjoy playing and wrestling with words, I find it virtually impossible to describe the nature of these swift onset aches pains and nauseating discomforts. These invisible disabilities / infirmities are a real pain in the … (fundament?)!

Rare day

 One of those rare sunshiny bright (albeit chilly) mornings drew me up the garden (lack of) path. Task one was to net out kilos of fallen leaves from the pond, and applying same to garden borders. That task completed, I set to refilling our sundry bird feeders to add a further gleam to my nascent halo!

 

Such was the sun’s effect on my morale that, once back in the house, I forgot to turn the fire on until the chill had begun to gnaw its way into my corporeal being. It wasn’t too long after that when the old familiar aches and pains began to make a negative impression on my sense of well-being. It wasn’t long before the aches in arms and feet induced feelings of nausea. Next thing, a light-headed giddiness hit in as an accompaniment to a sudden, simultaneous, onset of dyspepsia and flatulence.

 

Wrists strapped and tramadol ingested, I rested a while before swallowing lansoprazole and mebeverine in advance preparation for an early evening meal. Thankfully, the intensity of the muscular pains soon settled to a more manageable level and the nausea discharged itself from my psyche.  

 

As the indigestion settled down a little, I ventured into the kitchen and griddled a couple of oak-smoked salmon fillets, accompanied by a gently spiced stir-fry of red peppers, cherry tomatoes and mushrooms (marinated in a garlic, turmeric, tikka and soy sauce concoction) sprinkled with a few flakes of oak-smoked sea salt.

 

And that was my day … so far!

a little bit forward and a few steps back

 After thirteen hours bed rest, and subsequent slow saunter downstairs and into the kitchen, I boldly strove to prepare a curry for Sunday and at least one subsequent day’s dinner. It turned out to be one of the most satisfactory curries I’ve ever produced from scratch; a subtle balance between heat and flavour (or spice and other ingredients) proved most enjoyable.

 

After my recent achingly exhausted days, I started to feel as if a modest recovery was in the offing. Before dinner I wandered up to the garden pond to feed the fish and then watered the tomato plants in the greenhouse.

 

Mid-afternoon a painful ache in my left wrist was swiftly followed by a throbbing pain in the elbow of the same limb. I swiftly strapped up the aching joints to make myself feel  a little more comfortable*. Within ten minutes my lower limbs were afflicted with a dull throbbing ache whilst I simultaneously began to feel dizzily light-headed. By this time my face had, apparently, drained of all colour – an appropriate pallor to accompany an essential lying down to rest.

 

It wasn’t long before a nausea inducing discomfort in the armpits took its rightful place alongside aching knees and ankles. All that was needed to complete the picture was a recurrence of the abdominal spasms; fortunately this symptom was only mildly represented on this occasion.

 

The adventure continues.

 

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*unfortunately this didn't preclude a necessary resorting to some heavy duty pain-killers

 

 

Nursing ma belle - update

Just been hitting the tramadol again, hoping that they’ll alleviate the excruciating painful ache in both upper and lower limbs. During the night it was my legs that succumbed to lightning bolt spasms whereas, by lunchtime, it’s now the biceps that are undergoing erratic spasming. 

It’s really good to find my beloved able to manage a little food today; after I’d posted yesterday’s blog my beloved’s condition deteriorated further, necessitating further contact with her GP practice who decided to change her antibiotic to erythromycin as well as prescribing some anti-sickness tablets.

No sooner had she swallowed her first erythromycin than it was vomited back; in the circumstances it was difficult to see how she could manage to take an effective dose. Throughout the day (yesterday) even bland fluids could not be retained, occasional sips replaced her normal enthusiastic swallowing.

Having managed a boiled egg and toast for breakfast, I prepared a couple of smoked haddock fishcakes for her lunch and she seemed to really enjoy them. It seems rather strange that when she was running a high temperature she was shivering and shuddering yet, today, with her temperature closer to normal she feels quite overheated. 

For myself I had a lunch of my own unique recipe spicy beef meatball pasta – I’d actually prepared it at the weekend and, in normal circumstances both casserole dishes would have already been devoured – which I didn’t feel would have been quite suitable for ma belle’s temporarily sensitive stomach. 

Procedural Matters

Three days after cancelling, and rearranging, the hastily appointed barium enema, I received a letter from a consultant in the endoscopy department to say that they would shortly be arranging an appointment for this procedure. This epistle was dated 12 May but postmarked (second class) 19 May; my bewilderment / dismay at the too short notice received for the initial appointment may have been compounded by the fact that I was not aware at that time that any such appointment was being arranged.

Anyway, I’m pleased to report that the barium enema / X-ray procedure went without a hitch, even though it’s a long time since my recumbent (though not necessarily in total comfort) torso had to undergo so many postural changes in such a restricted (30+ minutes) period of time. (The exercise must have done me good!). Procedure completed, how wonderful it was for this hollow stomached being to return home, and ravenously devour a banana whilst awaiting the due sizzle time for the subsequent bacon butty; my previous solid food intake had been shortly after noon the previous day.

That gets me on to thinking about the privileged life I lead. Whilst so many in the world lack a roof over their head, access to a ready supply of drinking water and food in their belly, I can eat and drink at whatever moment suits my whim. I adore, and am adored by, my beloved wife, companion and lover Helen and, have two wonderful step-daughters. As long as we stand firm against the Tory / Lansley menace, future generations will also have the opportunity to access the same freely available National Health Service, not at all dependent upon one’s ability to pay, whose services are very much appreciated (despite minor glitches) by yours truly!

Hectoring and Dining

In principle I have little objection to Christianity's co-opting of pagan festivals into the Chritian calendar; unlike the Puritans I am not at all against the celebration of Christmas but, I have to admit that like so many others, of faith or otherwise, I do feel rather sickened by the crass commercialisation of the whole season.

At the most basic level I love the way that the Christmas story turns the world's values upside down. The Messiah King is born in a most humble abode, not in a fine palace and, what is more, born to an unmarried mum. The whole community is being crushed under the heel of imperialist occupying forces at a time of great civil unrest. Of course we read in some accounts of how the Christ child's family are forced to flee the country to become refugees and, finding their refuge in the very country from which God had liberated the Israelites many centuries earlier.

Sadly the unrest in the MIddle East remains unresolved even at the present time; sundry imperialist forces and factions have ensured that throughout the centuries.

Anyway, that's enough of my all too familiar hectoring; I only intended to give a brief account of our quiet family Christmas.

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In the run up to the great occasion I lacked the necessary stamina (physical and emotional) to assist my beloved in much of the preparation but, helped where I could and, of course, I took control of the kitchen for much of the final food preparation time. I like to get much of the effort out of the way before Christmas Day arrives and, to that end, prepared the gammon a few days earlier.

I boiled the Gammon in water laden with cloves, garlic and halved onions (skins still attached) for half of the appropriate cooking time, drizzling the joint with honey before placing it in a pre-heated oven, applying a further drizzle for the final twenty minutes or so roasting time.

The capon, a 9lb bird, I prepared on Christmas Eve evening, inserting generous amounts of butter beneath the skin before rubbing in a blend of freshly ground black pepper and sea salt. Stuffings are prepared separately, partly owing to dietary requirements of one of our guests. Ma belle prepared her traditional sausagemeat, onion and black pepper stuffing and, we also char grilled a few gluten free sausages. The butcher supplied a cranberry, orange and chestnut stuffing mixture (unfortunately not suitable for the coeliac in our midst but, much appreciated by ma belle et moi).

Next I par-boiled spicy herbed potatoes ready for roasting on the day itself, and steamed a few parsnip portions, duly drizzled with honey on taking their place in the roasting tin.

Beth came to stay with us for three nights, and three Christmas dinners, whilst Cathy joined us for a Christmas dinner on the 27th. We didn't over indulge on any of these occasions, quite simply enjoying the company and felllowship of each other. Beth arrived on the afternoon of Christmas Eve, having worked an early shift in the bakery but, still managed to prepare herself to head off to Christchurch, where she sings in the choir, for midnight communion, as well as their Christmas morning service.

My familiar aches, pains and sundry discomforts in chest, abdomen, and lower limbs, unfortunately brought out a sensory overloaded  tetchiness from yours truly, but failed in their attempt to mar the festivities. Ma belle as usual found some very entertaining novelties to stock up my Christmas stocking.

Throughout recent weeks we've enjoyed a rich diet of varied Christmas music and, once again find ourselves wondering why we should reserve so much of it to be aired on so few days of the year. If the Christmas message, or any of the Christian feasts, has/have validity there is no need to cloister it/them in such limited time slots.

what a difference a day makes

The contrast (compared to "heigh-ho heigh-ho to A&E we go" - yesterday's posting on Mal's Murmurings) coudn't have been greater; last night I slept solidly from before midnight until at least 4.30am and then, completely unannounced, drifted back into the arms of Morpheus for a further spell. By 8.00am I'm starting to feel really quite refreshed, an unfamiliar morning experience of late. After listening to a 1958 episode of 'The Goon Show' and a couple of comedic programmes of a much more recent vintage (courtesy BBC Radio 7), I released myself from the duvet lair and ventured kitchenwards.

First item on the agenda was preparation of a casserole, in readiness for tonight's guests; peppered chicken in a creamy green and yellow pepper and mushroom sauce, leaving the par-boiling of the potatoes for a little later part of the day.

Next on the agenda, a little stroll down to 'Open Church' for coffee and biscuits, and a little light socializing. An unfortunately familiar sharply bruising sensation around the chest and ribs, and the cramping spasms (partially alleviated by my early morning dose of tramadol) in the lower limbs, proved of little hindrance to my little jaunt. 

Unlike yesterday, discomfiture levels at the moment are quite minimal; if only it would remain that way!

Refreshment and Renewal

After those all too recent weeks when I was so far out of it, in that realm of drifting hollow giddiness and fluctuating levels of nausea, each days activities have taken on a sense of refreshing excitement. Of course recent days have been even more special, as my beloved hasn't been at work; we have been able to enjoy so many more hours of quite simply basking in each others company. It's as if that "being in love" sensation is constantly being replenished; not only does my love for Helen grow (impossible as it may seem) ever deeper but so does my whole enthusiasm for life, exhaustion permitting.

The rapidity with which days, weeks, months, and even years, pass by is sort of frightening. There's always so much to do and appreciate that time itself becomes a luxury, something to be caressed and indulged to the full. We've especially enjoyed Cathy enabled visits of her godson Joseph, an energetic and super inquisitive nine month old chortling bundle of joy! His eagerness to observe, and respond, to all that goes on around him proves quite infectious; it's almost as if it reinforces ones own need to ensure that we're not missing out on anything of potential value, a craving for fresh experience.

Although we've not made any effort to "get away", during ma belle's holiday, we have rung the occasional change to routine via visits to local restaurants, cafes and garden centres, as well as taking advantage of some fine weather to do a bit more planting, tidying and reorganizing of the garden. To me, part of the beauty of this work in the garden is preserving a "natural" rather than more cosmetically structured  appearance.

Friday lunchtime, on a whim, we ventured down to Brio's a reasonably local bar and eatery, even within my meagre walking range, where I settled for one of my favourite italian dishes, linguine marinara, whilst my beloved selected and enjoyed the pescatrice con speck (monkfish parcelled in speck ham).

On Saturday, late afternoon, I prepared a meal which served us for both Sunday and Tuesday lunch. It essentially utilized a 'Madras' curry paste, in addition to my own unique spice mixture, which infused the beef meatballs, sliced new potatoes, mushrooms, yellow and green peppers and tinned tomatoes; on each occasion I served it with saffron rice and a side dish of broccoli. Last evening we were invited for an evening meal at Janet (the only one of Helen's siblings who lives locally) & Graham's home where the wonderfully succulent slices of roast, lamb, served with roast potatoes and some home grown veg proved a real treat.

Today, we attended a coffee morning at Burnbridge, where the proceeds were for the MRDF (Methodist Relief & Development Fund); a guest speaker, and his wife, provided a concise and informative account of some of the projects in which they've been involved in Nepal.

An evening out, swiftly followed by a morning event, has proved somewhat demanding on my familiarly diminished stamina reserves but, I wouldn't have wanted to miss either event. A brief unsolicited afternoon nap imposed itself upon me but, I can still find time to rejoice in this day the Lord has made.

That's Progress

After a few days when even ambling up to the garden pond, to scatter a few food sticks for its piscine inhabitants, seemed like an overbearing chore, it was wonderful this morning to quite simply take the time to look around the garden as I performed this task.

A sudden fleet movement, rather too close to my foot-fall for comfort, catches my attention as a perfectly formed froglet, less than the length of my little finger nail (and I've got relatively small hands), leaps across the grassy sward. The sheer abundance of life, both flora and fauna, within the garden's confines is a constant source of joy and amazement - excluding of course the organic deposits left by visiting neighbourhood cats.

Anyway, having fed the fish, I move into the greenhouse to gather a few more fully ripened tomatoes and, taking due care not to overstretch, manage to water all the plants. Next task is repleneshing sundry bird-feeders although, I must admit that my attention to this is a more hit and miss business at this time, especially so during most recent days / weeks (when it has been more spasmodic than would be my intention), than is essential in Winter and Spring months.

I seem to have been catching up with my sleep requirement the past few nights, retiring to bed at an earlier hour, and emerging from the duvet lair, at least partially refreshed, some thirteen hours later. Today, I've so far managed to eat a small breakfast of a boiled egg and toast and, enjoyed some smoked haddock with new potatoes at lunch time. That's progress!

still snacking after all these years

Difficult to know whether I'm recovering, and what I'm recovering from; I'm certainly feeling a little more comfortable than I was at the beginning of the week! Muscles in chest, shoulder and lower limbs still feel rather achily tender but, definitely more comfortable than they were at the weekend. I'm really feeling relaxed after this afternoon's acupuncture session, though not in any spaced-out sense and, actually enjoyed a bit of grocery shopping with ma belle before we dined this evening.

Doesn't the word "dined" sound rather glamorous, much more romantic than "had something to eat"? Actually it was a very lazy re-heat job, a Waitrose Indian meal for two - chicken jalfrezi, chicken makhani, aloo sag, naan bread and pilau rice. Although I often devise my own curry dishes, I rarely bother to make more than one variety (usually a hybrid one) of curry at any particular time, the extra variety in these lazy banquets is a rather enticing experience - like a super snack! Much as I enjoy cooking and occasionally - emotional stamina permitting - dining out, at heart I'm much more of a snacker than a substantial meal type of guy.

Now doesn't that all sound somewhat boring - even that's just the kind of guy I am!

Anniversary Celebrations

Yesterday morning I was wide awake before 6.00AM, not just a little restless interlude, that had already occurred between 2.30 and 4.00AM. Like a young child on Christmas Day morning, my mind was buzzing with excitement, after all it's the dawn of a big day, our tenth wedding anniversary. Perhaps the fact that I'd spent much of the previous evening setting up my beloved's new laptop, my anniversary gift, and knowing that I still had one or two new programmes to install, had made my mind ultra-active. So frequently an active mind resists the ailing bodies need for sleep.

Anyway, back to 6.00AM; just what does one do when they're bright eyed (albeit none bushy tailed), bursting with an unfamiliar emotional energy whilst all too well aware that the limbs and torso are still screaming out for rest? Decided to pick up Diarmid MacCullough's 'A History of Christianity' for a little light reading but, a 1000+ page hardback tome proved difficult to handle from a semi-recumbent posture. Whilst the text proved exciting, wrists and thumbs were achingly struggling with the handling of the book. A couple of hours later, we decided to catch up with the previous night's episode of 'Material Girl, an episode full of romantic dilemmas, as we snuggled together au lit.

Come lunchtime we ventured down to 'Brio' Italian restaurant where I was pleased to see that my favourite item, a Linguine Marinara, was on the menu. The light sauce, a combination of of fish stock, tomato and chilli, was just perfect. My beloved settled for a fillet of sea bass with a generous vegetable accompaniment. Unfortunately, the house white was a disappointment, my  nose and palate couldn't quite determine whether it came from a bottle that had been opened a little too long or stored beyond its best by date; it was still drinkable but quite dull, unlike what I'd enjoyed on previous visits. Desserts proved most satisfactory, ma belle settling for a dark chocolate mousse whilst I had the creme brulee.

Come early evening, the early start to my day paid me back with a vengeance as I felt shattered in both mind and body. Ninety minutes rest served to re-vitalize me a little and it wasn't too long before I was ready to open a bottle of fizz, Champagne Etienne Dumont NV. I was pleased that when we acquired the bottle, a few months ago, when it was on an half-price offer; it definitely wasn't worth any more than the price we'd paid, extremely average. Still it was the intent that mattered, imbibing the bubbles whilst watching  a dvd of 'De-Lovely', we're both quite ardent devotees of Cole Porter songs.

This morning, my body clock still appeared to be in a state of confusion; this time I was quite wide awake by 4.00AM. At least I had the good sense to remain au lit for a sufficient period of rest. An unexpected surge of energy found me out in the garden before noon, secateurs in hand, for a mini tidying up exercise. An hour of this endeavour found my body crying out for a break and, after a brief seated respite, we headed out to Cafe Culture where we both enjoyed a light lunch of spiced chicken breast with mango chutney, served in naan bread, with a side salad and Thai yoghurt. The celebration of our anniversary continues as we bask in the pleasure of each other's company.

Update - In(ter)dependence

The snow squalls seem perfectly fitting for the season and, the outlook from the back room proves quite enchanting. Fortunately, as there's no need for us to venture out, we are able to greet and appreciate the snowscape with a degree of enthusiasm. The process of dismantling the festive decorations is now under way and, I'm pleased to report that the holidays passed by most enjoyably without any hint of over indulgence on our part. As usual, fluctuating manifestations of M.E. helped to assure that moderation in terms of food & alcohol consumed was essential and, any attempt to extend one's usual waking hours was carefully avoided. Exhaustion would have taken a far greater toll had I not paid such close attention to body listening!

Having diligently prepared sermon, lessons and hymns, for a service at Starbeck Chapel this Sunday evening, my health-wise below par belle is now unfortunately confined to bed, having spent last night feverishly alternating between burning-up and shivering. It seems like the sore throat and subsequent sniffles that began last Monday has now managed to come to fruition. As is her nature, she feels guilt at not being able to take the service this evening, a guilt (almost) for being ill. Although she managed to get into work all last week, now as she begins a "holiday" week, the stamina to utilize the time to the full is totally lacking. She even expresses guilt at my having to run around after her and, as I tell her how inappropriate that response is, it drives home the message of how guilt-ridden I've been about my health since succumbing to M.E. in 2003. The guilt is not so much at being ill but rather for the (imagined?) intolerable burden it places on those closest to one.

Having spent a part, albeit brief, of last evening slaving over a hot wok to produce a couple of casserole dishes of beef meatball, yellow & red peppers and mushroom Madras variant curry, the intended dinner for today & Monday, a couple of poached eggs on toast was all my beloved could manage come Sunday lunchtime. I made do with a goodly potion of Madras served with a few chapatis, the effort of preparing my special saffron rice seeming a task too much for one helping! Apart from keeping Helen plied with a regular assortment of hot beverages, in the hope of flushing the bugs out, I'm feeling quite lost and helpless. It's amazing how lost one feels, left entirely to their own devices when, life's greatest pleasure is quite simply being in the company of one's beloved partner.

No matter how self-sufficient one may like to be, in my case contentedly resigned to frequently unattached bachelordom until my mid-fifties, my mind, body and spirit cries out for that completeness found only in close proximity to the one who truly is my other half.

Chef's Hat and Gardening Cap

After last Sunday’s disappointing meal, which featured celery and elastic band fed pork (at least the toughness and lack of flavour suggested that was the diet on which the distantly deceased had been fed) today’s lunch was a total success and, once more I’m fittingly proud of my chefly accomplishments!

As yet, I’ve not given a name to this rather special casserole but, a little experimentation definitely paid off. First off I diced a few chicken breasts and treated them to a marinade of garlic, coriander, cumin and hot pepper sauce – being cautiously generous with the latter ingredient. Onions, green and yellow peppers, mushrooms, tinned tomatoes and pickled beetroot, together with a little chicken gravy made up the final dish and, although I say it myself, great was the rejoicing over it. Not only did it tantalize and tingle the taste buds but, simultaneously cleared the sinuses. My special spiced crispy roast potatoes (crunchy externals with fluffily melting interior), broccoli, Brussels sprouts, carrots and French beans proved a perfect accompaniment. Compliments to my beloved vegetable chef, for the purchase and preparation of those ingredients.

Thankfully, I’d prepared the casseroles last evening, utilizing my favourite lidded wok for the purpose; had I left it until this morning, things would have had to be rushed as I remained entangled in the duvet lair until long after my beloved had set off to church. I did, however, manage to find the time to pot up four varieties of fragrant hostas before lunch. Eventually they’ll be planted out in the moisture retaining area of the garden.

This afternoon, stamina permitting, I hope to clear an area of well-drained sunshine (subject to availability) fed garden in order to plant a few Echinaceas. Even if I don’t get around to it, at least the intention was there.

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

The Best Laid Plans

Monday 31 August

Although it's the thought that counts, that very thought can militate against one; I suppose it's something to do with "the best laid plans ..." And did those thoughts and plans backfire, on my poor long-suffering beloved; not everyone can turn an 80-90 mile trip into a distance more akin to 200 miles, partly attributable to road maps being scattered over a few separate pages of an atlas - spatial sense is shown for the feminine virtue it truly is - and her desire to save me the stress of going via the M62, far from my favourite stretch of road.

Having travelled for best part of two hours, I suddenly became aware that we weren't passing through any of the urban villages (of Lancashire) that I'd anticipated; rural idylls (of both Yorkshire and Cumbria) were the order of the day but, having taken this pleasant alternative route we reached the M6 at a point from which our destination goal wasn't much less of a distance away than it had been at the outset of our journey. (As aforementioned, all of this was the result of Helen's best intention to avoid the much loathed M62 route). For the first several miles on the motorway it was difficult to exceed 25mph, the slowest part of the journey so far.

The one thing of which we were certain was that we now had to head down as far as junction 26 and the M58; so far so good. Just for confirmation we switched on the satnav - destination address already programmed in and, this is where the real fun began. We missed a turn at which our destination was a mere 5.5 miles away and, as the amazing technological device re-planned our route, within a matter of minutes it was a mere 12 miles away. Further down the route we passed a familiar landmark which we knew to be within a few minutes drive of our destination but, the satnav would have none of it! A further twenty-five minutes down the line the satnav continued its wild goose chase eventually telling us that we'd reached our suburban destination when reality demonstratively disclosed the fact that we were actually in the city centre, Liverpool 1 and not Liverpool 19. We'd already been forced to make a few U-turns, and other probably illicit moves, having been directed wrong way into one way streets etc. ... etc ...

Eventually, we arrived at the Innkeepers Lodge, moved in our cases, before venturing around to visit Kathleen, Helen's step-mum, which was a simple ten minutes walk. No navigational problems there but, exhaustion had set in for this bad traveller. The walk back to the hotel proved a little more perilous; through heavy lidded eyes each road, strreet, avenue appeared much the same and my intuitive compass had gone on strike. That's when the dreaded panic set in; chest tightening, breath taking, muscle-spasming painfulness kicked in and all I wanted was to be back home! To be honest, home is the only place and sensation that I really care for; the idea of a break away being relaxing is anathema.

Tuesday 01 September

Taking advantage of a generous breakfast, included in the room price, necessitated me getting up from my bed to walk at a rather earlier hour than has been my norm over recent days. Cereal, probiotic yoghurt, fruit juice, toast, pain au chocolat ... who could ask for anything more; well perhaps a doggy bag was in order to sustain us in that large interval between breakfast and evening meal. Having allowed twenty minutes for breakfast to settle, off we went to Kathleens once again for a little chat and the opportunity to take a few snapshots and a little bit of video-ing. We were back to the inn shortly after 11.30AM, in my case for a much needed rest and, for my beloved, a chance to catch up on some reading. There are definitely some exhibitions at Liverpool's Tate Gallery but, at this stage my reserves of both physical and emotional stamina are still a little battle scarred from yesterday's adventures.

Who knows what the rest of the day will bring but, I am looking forward to a meal at Mad Harrys this evening (technically it's the 'Madhari Tandoori Restaurant' but it's a name that becomes affectionate in my accidental(?) pronunciation)! Mad Harrys is directly opposite to the main door of our temporary habitation. Last night we ate at the Toby Carvery, adjacent to the lodge where we are staying, where I enjoyed a baked sea bass along with a generosity of self service potatoes and vegetables. I even decided a Yorkshire pudding would make an interesting additional accompaniment. Meantime, my beloved settled for the carvery turkey.

********

Once more the best laid plans were destined not to be; the rest of the day turned out to be a devastatingly tortuous non-event. Severe muscular and abdominal discomfort led to an all pervasive sense of nausea though, come late afternoon / early evening went out for a little fresh air in the hope of reviving or creating some semblance of an appetite. The effort was to little avail. No sooner had we seated ourselves in the Indian Restaurant than the sense of nausea returned with a vengeance; at least we were able to leave before we'd had a chance to place an order. My only desire was to be back home in Harrogate whilst simulataneously the thought of making the journey was far too much to cope with.

Most of the day and evening was spent in totally restless attempts to rest. Somehow my biological clock can't cope with dramatic changes such as arising from my bed before mid-to-late morning but, it had seemed necessary to partake of breakfast (at an unearthly early hour) as I felt the need to obtain something in return for the nightly room fee. I did manage a pint of Thwaites 'Bomber' in the afternoon, sweet upfront with a sustained dry bitterness lingering on the palate, a much more satisfying drink than the Long Shadow Chardonnay, of the previous evening, which turned out to be flavoursomely oak laden at the beginning but, became an unremittingly tedious monotony before the glass was half-finished.


Wednesday 2 September

After a night of intermittent sleep, I managed to pluck up the courage to take a shower. Whilst in no way considering myself disabled, it suddenly occurred to me that I had quite a high degree of dependence on the shower seat at home whereas here, no such luxury was afforded. So, short and sweet showerlette was in order and, I emerged marginally refreshed to venture across to the carvery for breakfast.

This evening we'll be ambling around to Kathleens for dinner; the trip to scouseland proves worthwhile if only for the opportunity to visit Helen's stepmum but I doubt that I could cope with a visit to the Tate or even a more local gallery. Even when one is feeling relatively better than had been the case for a few years, ventures away from the familiar homestead prove a testing ground too far.

*************

As I shuffled from chair to door, my wearily aching lower limbs decided that an occasional knee tendon spasm, and buckling from the knee, was an ideal way to restore my confidence. That's the point when we remembered that I'd not brought any of my walking sticks with me. My beloved popped down to the bar to see if, by any chance, there was a spare walking stick available and, managed to obtain an umbrella of appropriate length to proffer some support (an item of unclaimed lost property). This enabled me to get out for a little stroll in reasonably close proximity to the inn.

Late afternoon found us once more at Kathleens, to enjoy an evening meal.

Thursday 3 September

With the desire to get home by the quickest route possible, decided it was worth risking a trip along the M62, succesfully relying on the satnav to discern the best exit strategy for a comfortable journey home. My only panic attack occurred within one mile of our departure point, when abdominal and chest muscles once more militated against common-sense. Helen suggested we head back to the inn but, common-sense prevailed and, the desire to get home, in spite of immediate terrifying discomfort, was much greater than the need for instant relief! Once we hit the dreaded motorway, the symptoms were soon ameliorated.

The delight of reaching home, in a mere couple of hours, bore witness to the greatest transfiguration since Jesus met the two old geezers on the mount! How wonderful to smile freely once again.

Theme & Variations

Yesterday the Café, today the Bistro, hope you enjoy reading about how the other half lives! The day, for me, started rather agonizingly slowly; customary pains and spasms in the lower limbs had found themselves some co-operative companions in the form of aching upper limbs and congested head and torso. Sleep had been so badly needed that it proved hard to come by; relaxation was required but stress was all that was available, stress not of a psychological-emotional variety but rather an uncooperative body.

Exhaustion proved such that I forgot to take the pain-killers yet, without these mind and body were unwilling to function in any manner that one would like to consider normal. Eventually, after 13 hours of bed restlessness, it required a great deal of effort to greet the early post-meridian sun. Only when pain cancelling medication had been taken was any degree of wakefulness apparent. An early afternoon bowl of cereal set me up for a little venture out into the garden, a place where I really feel at home and fully alive.

Contrary to the popular saying about the devil finding work for idle hands, in my experience it’s a garden that performs this task. (Of course, some would see that as the abode of the serpent hence proving the folk sayings credentials). There’s always a little task to perform in terms of pruning, re-arranging or general tidying up and, today was no exception. Strangely, the requisite effort seemed to re-vitalize me, even to the extent of venturing, loppers in hand, into next doors garden where several branches of our wayward shrubs and trees had seen fit to trespass. A few mugs of Earl Grey proved an invaluable aid to the performance of these duties.

By late afternoon, appetite aroused, I led my beloved by the hand to our local Crepes & Crocs Bistro at ‘The Milepost’, in time to take advantage of their Early Bird Menu. We both enjoyed a fishcake starter, served on a bed of green salad with a sweet lightly spiced sauce. For the main course I settled for the Toulouse Sausage and Mash, whilst my OH had the Fish Pie, sharing a side dish of garlic beans between us. To add to the sense of occasion we enjoyed a bottle of Loire Sauvignon to whet the palate.

On our return home, culinary chores beckoned as I prepared my own variant Country French chicken casserole dish in readiness for our Sunday lunch. Currently we’ve settled down to watch the 1944 film, “Farewell My Lovely” the overture to BBC4’s weekend of film noir. Adorable company and a decent movie, what more can anyone wish for? Perhaps a glass of Chardonnay!

Time on Mal's Hands

My latest blog posting, SHORT DAYS AND LONG HOURS, can be found on 'Mal's Murmurings'

Weakened Weekends and Travail Aids

Saturday evening is usually my major cooking time, when I prepare the meal for Sunday lunch-time, which usually also suffices for our needs on the Monday and, in variant form provides the main component of a further meal later in the week. This Saturday proved an exception, to the normal routine, as I was too achingly exhausted to attend to such matters.

Even Sunday morning found me too de-energised to make amends so, a frozen Sainsbury’s Chicken Tikka Masala for two served to fill the gap (admittedly it was more on the scale of an appetizer) accompanied by my specially prepared rice. As I usually prepare curries from scratch, this make do meal proved less than satisfying; it was rather like having a ketchup infused chip shop curry sauce with one or two thumbnail size pieces of meat (which could have almost passed for lumps in the gravy) by way of texture.

I’ll definitely try not to repeat this mistake but, I’m pleased I did not forego the BBQ on Saturday afternoon, held at a farmhouse on the Helperby Estate, the home of one of the doctors from the practice where Helen works. This minimal bit of socializing was the reason for my shattered-ness, and subsequent lack of culinary endeavour.

Apart from excellent company, and host provided musical entertainment, I also managed (with a little perseverance) to take some video footage of the House Martins paying fleeting visits to their eaves supported nests. In fact the video camera was frequently utilized in my attempt to catch the flavour of the occasion and, my SLR also came into its own for this purpose.

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Having partaken of our (excuse for) a Sunday lunch we ventured out to the retailer who had supplied the RAC satnav, which I bought back in May for Helen’s birthday, highly dissatisfied with it’s very limited database and the temperamental software which made it nigh impossible to succesfully download and install an essential update.

The assistant manager initially argued that the model we had purchased was “fit for purpose” providing it could get you to a destination, regardless of the fact that several long established addresses were beyond the scope of its database; it seemed to me a bit like saying if you bought a car and it made one journey successfully, after which it broke down, it was fit for purpose as you’d been able to get in and drive for that one journey! Despite my initial frustration with this explanation, he did demonstrate alternative means of searching its limited database and proved most helpful in our quest. The store manager admitted to the limitations of this particular model (other than for finding a city centre) and, allowed us to do an upgrade exchange for a better equipped ‘Tom-Tom’ model; I’d sooner pay the extra for something which more satisfactorily fulfils its intended purpose. As an easily un-nerved and discomforted / disgruntled traveller, the ‘Help Me’ function of the new device, clearly demonstrated by the assistant manager, should prove a great boon!

Downloading recommended updates this morning proved a doddle!

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On our return home, the contents of a pot of Fair-Trade filter coffee were eagerly consumed by ma belle et moi whilst sat beside the garden pond, a necessary pick-me-up! By this time I felt sufficiently energized to tackle a little maintenance work at the wildlife friendly end of the garden. Our hope and intention is that the whole of the garden is wildlife friendly but, I refer to the area of more rampant wildflower and shrub growth! I’m increasingly of the view that these “natural” areas of one’s estate take far more management than the cultivated ones! Ma belle busied herself tidying up elsewhere in the garden, managing to demonstrate her special gift for losing the implements which she has just been using on several occasions.

Attaining Full Credentials

Last night, for the first time in many weeks, I experienced that sudden exhaustion whereby my aimlessly wilful lower limbs directed me, albeit falteringly, to the house’s upper floor in search of a bed. Object achieved, there came the inevitable collapse onto the nocturnal furniture. Just as night follows day, my body required the assistance of my beloved to carry out the task of its disrobing.

Some thirteen hours later I emerged from the soundest sleep experienced for months, or possibly even years. You might assume that, after this rest, I would be able to face the new day feeling totally refreshed; of course you’d be wrong. I don’t know if you’ve ever had the sense of your body being lined, internally, by a coarse felt sheet which has been (and still is being) subjected to a thumping hollow bruising affect! It’s my duty to inform you that it’s most unpleasant and, you have my sympathy if it falls within the range of your experience!

Anyway, unpleasantries out of the way, I can ignore other familiar ailments and move on to recent more positive experiences / activities. Having replaced a right angled absence on our front fence with a partial small pallet presence, I was able to utilize the base of this ‘new’ fence section as a mini-planter wherein I’ve placed a couple of small ivy plants. Further horticultural endeavours have been centred on the garden at the rear of the house, paying particular attention to the wildlife friendly arena. It’s most rewarding to view the results of previous years’ efforts which are gradually coming to fruition!

Monday of this week saw the celebration of my 65^th birthday, a special milestone as I am now a fully fledged pensioner! At lunchtime ma belle Helen and myself had a light lunch at a newly established local crêperie, Helen partaking of a goats cheese variety whilst I settled for the smoked salmon. As it’s a new venture, the accompanying drinks were free of charge, something most welcome in these financially straitened times!

From 7.00pm onwards, friends of ours called round chez nous, as and when convenient to themselves to partake of a birthday drink and toast the venerable birthday boy. As I’m not much for parties, and especially those of a more formal variety, this arrangement proved ideal. Having been incapable of much socializing, in recent years, it proved most enjoyable to play the (occasionally) sociable host. Although I have lost contact with several of my friends (those who failed to understand my health problems) since becoming an ME sufferer, it was great to know that I’m not totally forgotten! It’s my pleasure to report that a good time was had by all. Snacks and nibbles remaining from this event have made an interesting addition to our more routine diet, and of course we’ve had to make ourselves quaff the remaining wine from sundry open bottles.

The week has quite simply flown by as my beloved had taken the week off from work; time spent with ma belle amoureuse is always a pleasure, it’s remarkable to have a life so blessed!

Returning Home from Being There

 

An endless numbness, a dull sullen hanging sense of nausea and, barely the energy to read a single word, listen to a note of music; if only I had the stamina to put a thought together it would probably turn into a single-syllabled question. The querulous word would, I suspect, be more on the lines of “What” rather than “Why”.

I’ve long since given up on the existential / metaphysical why; more an exercise in futility rather than to proffer any result. “What” keeps the world alive, “why” seems more like an evasion.

Well, that’s yesterday dealt with; today I have returned to me. The preceding days, and nights, had been dominated by intensely excruciating pain, ranging from the numbing tourniquet, to the slightly blunted arrow; the bone and muscle crumbling ache in combat with those swiftly-fleeting nerve-tingling darts that seem to take one’s breath away; a kind of Topsy-Turvy Terpsichore:

Dance rules over all – it prevails against reason, common-sense and substantial portions of ritual belief. Trouble is that, we are never in control; I am currently in thrall to a kind of voodoo dance –nature’s response to a crushing debilitating pain scenario.

When all else fails, randomly fling limbs in whatsoever direction they feel like; if it causes further discomfort then that adds a whole new terpsichorean overlay, disclosing hitherto undreamt of fraught sequences of space displacement.

On Monday my pain-killing medication was changed, to a 3 day slow release opiate patch. Having applied the patch, late afternoon, my familiar discomforted restless night was in attendance, so nothing different then but the following morn was quite a different proposition. A total inability to concentrate, a generalized dull ache underlining the spasmodically erupting specific sharp pains; all was eventually blanketed under a heavily nausea spiced  airless cloud of unbeing, crushing a body wracked in turn between hot and cold shivering sweats.

Needless to say, all the remaining patches have been returned to the pharmacy and, my routine has been switched back to Tramadol, this time of a non-modified release type, to enable me to remain in control, modifying the dosage as necessary. Meanwhile, I’ve once again been referred to the hospital for further investigative work.

The 18 hours respite, including some ‘real’ bed rest, between removing the patch and taking a further pain-killer, has served to enhance my appreciation of the home environment. For the first-time this season, I was aware of the seasonally decorated dining table, and the various Christmas ornaments and tinsel sundrily scattered around our abode. This awareness of one’s habitation, the taste of food, the sound of music and always one’s loving companion is a gift to be truly celebrated. The return from a pain-riddled drug addled stupor makes me feel like the fabled Prodigal Son; although at heart I am always aware of the love that surrounds me, it’s good to receive a whole-hearted reminder, for one’s abode to find it’s rightful status as Home.

 

A Matter Of Time

Well, once again I’m rather shattered but, I didn’t get here without a fight. In the course of the past week I’ve managed to get a bit more work done in the garden. Yet another water feature is now part of our garden-scape, this time a small pre-formed pond close to the greenhouse, as home to one or two marginal plants, a water lily and hopefully, in the course of time, a multiplicity of fauna. The digging out proved remarkably easy, until I hit the clay layer, but thinking back a couple of years I wouldn’t have even been able to contemplate this kind of endeavour. I have to admit that, what would have been a couple of hours effort (before returning to other tasks) in pre-illness days, had to be spread over days rather than hours!

Our main, and deepest pond, framed with reeds, water spearmint and flag iris, is also home to a few water lilies and a selection of variegated goldfish. There’s certainly no paucity of frogs in the garden, despite the havoc wreaked on the tadpole population by the fish. To one side of the garden we have a heavily planted circular patio pond as well as other sunken water containers scattered around.

Today was heavy weeding day, closely supervised by small flotillas of tortoiseshell butterflies on adjacent buddleias but, just over one hour of effort presented my body with all the warning signals that I needed to rest.

After a little rest, I was able to get on with preparations for Sunday lunch; what I’d do without the heavy duty wok is a bit of a mystery to me now; I always prepare my casserole dishes, curries, saffron rice, stir fries etc in this utensil.

My casseroles frequently start with the same ingredients but it’s amazing the difference a random sprinkling of a few different spices and herbs make to the end result. Today’s effort began with a generous sprinkling of ground black pepper and Tabasco sauce onto the freshly diced chicken breasts, left to stand whilst I prepared a couple of onions, yellow, red and green peppers, and sliced a couple of handfuls of closed cup mushrooms.

The olive oil in the wok was generously infused with paprika, coriander, cumin, turmeric and a sprinkling of mixed herbs. Firstly I browned the onions before throwing in the diced chicken then, after a few minutes stirring added the sliced peppers a short while before I added the mushrooms. A tin of plum tomatoes was next to go in, more freshly ground black pepper added at this stage. Having ensured that I’d sufficiently pulped the tomatoes, I left the lidded wok to simmer for few more minutes before adding a jar of creamy mushroom sauce.

The resulting concoction has now been decanted into a couple of casserole dishes and, par-boiling of my special herbed and spiced potatoes, which I’ll roast tomorrow, is all that remains for me to do. My beloved always sees to the accompanying greens!

I hadn’t intended to write about my cooking, just as I didn’t know I was going to write about the garden; it quite simply felt that a blog posting was overdue and, the keyboard took over!

I rejoice and give thanks for this day the Lord has made.