Truth be told, I've had better years but, thanks to the love of ma belle I can still end the year loving life. On the health front things have been a bit hairy to say the least and, politically, the un-mandated Tory Democrat government can be seen as deleterious for almost everyone except the wealthy (and they can rest assured that all their tax avoidance schemes will remain unchallenged). The bankers brought about the periodic crisis of capitalism so, with pre-formulated ideological dogma to the fore, an attack must be made upon the poor and the "nanny" state which bailed out the titanic banks.
Before the election I'd come to regard LibDem leader Clegg as a Tory so, I shouldn't have been at all surprised when he accepted the thirty pieces of silver to betray all those who were truly socially liberal. At least this recognition led me to re-join the Labour Party, after my wilderness years despairing of it's neo-Thatcherite agenda, even before the election.
If only wage slaves could demonstrate the kind of solidarity the merchant banking public school fraternity so clearly display, how much better off our society would be. The ConDems call for cutbacks - I yearn for fightbacks!
The paramedics have rushed me to A&E on more than one occasion this past year (each time in association with crushing chest pains) and, I also received excellent prompt attention from the NHS when they diagnosed and excised a basal cell carcinoma. Already the waiting time for appointments in the department that made the diagnosis has trebled since the new governments policies have started to be enforced.
I've not had a cigarette since June 23rd, when I was hospitalized overnight; in the first place I just felt so grotty that the prospect of inhaling any substance was totally unappealing. Subsequently, I've just not bothered to smoke - it's not that I've quit. It proves reassuring to have several packs available in the house, rather than falling into the 'panic' trap when one rushes out to buy a pack, in response to a stressful event, which one then feels duty bound to finish. To be brutally honest though, it feels as if my health has suffered as a result of this period of nicotine abstinence.
As I suggested at the beginning, of this post, my life would be so much the poorer if it wasn't for the love of ma belle Helen. My only wish is that everyone could experience such a joyous, loving, sharing, fulfilling relationship; as it stands, I just can't help feeling how privileged I really am.
As always, my wish for the New Year is that we may move towards a world dominated by values of justice and compassion, where the needs of all are met and the greed of many is seen as an asocial vice!
Wishing my readers A VERY HAPPY NEW YEAR!
- living and frequently struggling with moderate M.E. -
where (bad) health, faith, politics and the joys and troubles of daily life collide.
ME
Showing posts with label smoking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label smoking. Show all posts
Friday, December 31, 2010
Sunday, September 24, 2006
'Back To Church Sunday' Backfires
Last Thursday evening, an unusual event occurred in the Evison household; the doorbell rang and, lo and behold, a vision from the past came to visit. A friend, from the church that I used to attend, called with an invitation for us to attend that church this evening as part of the Back to Church Sunday initiative.
It is almost three years since I was forced, for health reasons (frequently having to lie down during my morning’s work, recurrent flu-like symptoms and, regularly collapsing immediately on return home), to leave my employment as Caretaker/ Steward at that church. Much as they had been very satisfied with my labour; after my total collapse, I was reminded (on more than one occasion) by members of the clergy team that I had let them down! Was I supposed to fall down on my knees and cry, “Lord I repent of my inadequacy in letting you smite me down with ill-health; forgive me Father!”, or some such fanfared display of penitence?
The job that I did for 16 hours per week, plus many unpaid hours, became 32 hours per week regular employment for my immediate successor (who lasted just a few weeks) and, it now provides full-time employment for the present incumbent ( along with assistance from his partner on Mondays when “there’s just so much work to do”)!
For a couple of months, after my health enforced spontaneous resignation, I managed to struggle along to morning worship, invariably having to leave less than halfway through the service due to lack of stamina. Within a year of leaving my employment there, as well as the various functions I had fulfilled in a voluntary capacity (housegroup leader etc.), we had the misfortune of employing a warden from the church, together with his colleague, to do some decorating work for us. The work was tackled in, what we felt to be a very sluggish yet slipshod fashion, by these two retired gentlemen, and their presence in the house became too difficult for me to cope with. They billed us at an extortionate skilled professional rate, which I settled at half the asking price (we were still being robbed - but I yielded to my more benevolent nature). Around this time, alongside a growing realization of the cosily middle-class nature of this particular institution, my wife decided to move back to the Methodist church, as she had been feeling lost and alone in this ‘thriving’ church, once I was no longer able to attend. The Vicar called round to aggressively defend his Warden (against our wounding remarks) and … the rest is history.
Neither of us had darkened/enlightened their doorway since that time until I started going down to Open Church for coffee in recent months. In this whole period no-one from the church bothered to call around, or even make enquiries as to how I was doing, other than through a chance encounter with my wife near the local shops; so you can see why Thursday evening’s visit was such an unusual event!
Back to Church Sunday proved a terrifyingly daunting prospect, after all, I’m the person who on more than one occasion resumed smoking on National No Smoking Day; the very name of the day militated against any positive move on my part. Is attention going to be focussed on the Prodigal’s return? That’s the last thing that I’d want, a sure signal to lift up my backside and walk. I didn’t for one moment expect to receive the prodigal outpouring of love shown by the father in the tale but, I dreaded the focus being on us miserable returnees.
These misgivings apart, one of the greatest problems I have, at present, is with pre-planning. When I feel that I have sufficient emotional stamina, to attend a full church service, my first visit will have to be on impulse; for the present that little step is a step too far.
On reflection, it strikes me as an odd kind of pastoral care when, the only time one receives a visit is when a national returning bums on seat initiative is taking place!
I still have a lot of time for the Church as the body of Christ, a servant community; it is composed of people who, just like me, are all too human and frequently negligent of the service to which their Lord calls them.
It is almost three years since I was forced, for health reasons (frequently having to lie down during my morning’s work, recurrent flu-like symptoms and, regularly collapsing immediately on return home), to leave my employment as Caretaker/ Steward at that church. Much as they had been very satisfied with my labour; after my total collapse, I was reminded (on more than one occasion) by members of the clergy team that I had let them down! Was I supposed to fall down on my knees and cry, “Lord I repent of my inadequacy in letting you smite me down with ill-health; forgive me Father!”, or some such fanfared display of penitence?
The job that I did for 16 hours per week, plus many unpaid hours, became 32 hours per week regular employment for my immediate successor (who lasted just a few weeks) and, it now provides full-time employment for the present incumbent ( along with assistance from his partner on Mondays when “there’s just so much work to do”)!
For a couple of months, after my health enforced spontaneous resignation, I managed to struggle along to morning worship, invariably having to leave less than halfway through the service due to lack of stamina. Within a year of leaving my employment there, as well as the various functions I had fulfilled in a voluntary capacity (housegroup leader etc.), we had the misfortune of employing a warden from the church, together with his colleague, to do some decorating work for us. The work was tackled in, what we felt to be a very sluggish yet slipshod fashion, by these two retired gentlemen, and their presence in the house became too difficult for me to cope with. They billed us at an extortionate skilled professional rate, which I settled at half the asking price (we were still being robbed - but I yielded to my more benevolent nature). Around this time, alongside a growing realization of the cosily middle-class nature of this particular institution, my wife decided to move back to the Methodist church, as she had been feeling lost and alone in this ‘thriving’ church, once I was no longer able to attend. The Vicar called round to aggressively defend his Warden (against our wounding remarks) and … the rest is history.
Neither of us had darkened/enlightened their doorway since that time until I started going down to Open Church for coffee in recent months. In this whole period no-one from the church bothered to call around, or even make enquiries as to how I was doing, other than through a chance encounter with my wife near the local shops; so you can see why Thursday evening’s visit was such an unusual event!
Back to Church Sunday proved a terrifyingly daunting prospect, after all, I’m the person who on more than one occasion resumed smoking on National No Smoking Day; the very name of the day militated against any positive move on my part. Is attention going to be focussed on the Prodigal’s return? That’s the last thing that I’d want, a sure signal to lift up my backside and walk. I didn’t for one moment expect to receive the prodigal outpouring of love shown by the father in the tale but, I dreaded the focus being on us miserable returnees.
These misgivings apart, one of the greatest problems I have, at present, is with pre-planning. When I feel that I have sufficient emotional stamina, to attend a full church service, my first visit will have to be on impulse; for the present that little step is a step too far.
On reflection, it strikes me as an odd kind of pastoral care when, the only time one receives a visit is when a national returning bums on seat initiative is taking place!
I still have a lot of time for the Church as the body of Christ, a servant community; it is composed of people who, just like me, are all too human and frequently negligent of the service to which their Lord calls them.
Thursday, November 24, 2005
Defeat 1 - SinnaLuvva 0
Tonight, the flag of defeat is draped around my shoulders and, ashamedly, I admit to returning to the dreaded weed. I have no longer quit smoking and, insult was added to injury when our local 7 - 11 store was closed early for refurbishment, just when I needed to purchase a packet of twenty comforters. Salvation was close at hand though, in the form of an off-license a couple of doors down and, fortunately they stocked what were (and I suppose may soon have to say "are") my regular brand.
It is a sad day when I have been unable to eat one of my culinary delights from a position of queasy discomfort. Delights are few and far between and, I must admit that although the flavour of the first three cigarettes was not as enticing as I imagined, the process of imbibing nicotine orally is far preferable to the cutaneous transfer method.
It is a sad day when I have been unable to eat one of my culinary delights from a position of queasy discomfort. Delights are few and far between and, I must admit that although the flavour of the first three cigarettes was not as enticing as I imagined, the process of imbibing nicotine orally is far preferable to the cutaneous transfer method.
Sunday, June 12, 2005
A Broken Spirit and A Wearied Flesh
That's it, after yesterday's ropey day (recorded by Heterocon) and an even worse night, the will has finally broken. At 14.00 hours, Sunday 12 June, went to buy my first pack of cigarettes (and lighter) in more than seven months. Could no longer cope with the dis-ease of the body, or the tension and anger of the spirit. One certain factor is that the new medication doesn't suit me or, if it does, I'm struggling to give it time to settle in. Patience is a virtue that seems to drift, nay it runs ... scarpers ... away from me!
The first cigarette, on the way back from the local co-op tasted , to be honest, indifferent but none the less welcome. I hate the thought of money going up in smoke; I resent supporting these destructive corporations who manufacture and merchandise these defiling tobacco sticks and yet, all ethical considerations are tossed to one side in the hope of experiencing that "rush" as the nicotine enters the blood-stream.
For the last couple of months my throat and mouth have managed to taste like a nicotine and alcohol hangover, each morning, even though the former is in absentia and the latter very moderately represented.
I have no excuse, apart from weakness. For the moment life sucks but, who knows ... I do still recognize my good fortune in terms of family and friends.
The first cigarette, on the way back from the local co-op tasted , to be honest, indifferent but none the less welcome. I hate the thought of money going up in smoke; I resent supporting these destructive corporations who manufacture and merchandise these defiling tobacco sticks and yet, all ethical considerations are tossed to one side in the hope of experiencing that "rush" as the nicotine enters the blood-stream.
For the last couple of months my throat and mouth have managed to taste like a nicotine and alcohol hangover, each morning, even though the former is in absentia and the latter very moderately represented.
I have no excuse, apart from weakness. For the moment life sucks but, who knows ... I do still recognize my good fortune in terms of family and friends.
Saturday, April 09, 2005
Abstainers Hangover
As a sufferer from abstainers hangover it is frequently difficult to know how I will be able to cope with any exertive exercise, e.g. answering the telephone, opening the door, smiling inanely at strangers as if they're customers, even preventing flatulence from effectively expressing itself. Those close to me, can vouch for this inability, especially the latter; indeed flatulence is an additional symptom of abstainers hangover. This part of the ailment is my reason for setting up a trust fund for carers of people suffering from this condition; the fund is to be called RESPITE CARE FOR NOSES.
*********************************
On a real world level I visited my GP yesterday morning and, he increased my medication to help me cope with the emotional/temperamental problems mentioned in THE VENEER CRACKS. He is also arranging an appointment with a psychiatrist.
Although he's a very good GP he failed to go along with my suggestion that I should take up smoking again!
I suppose the abs. hang. diagnosis has not yet been universally accepted by the medical profession. Once acknowledged, the deluge of prescriptions for wines, spirits, beers and cigarettes would be too great for pharmacies to cope with!
*********************************
On a real world level I visited my GP yesterday morning and, he increased my medication to help me cope with the emotional/temperamental problems mentioned in THE VENEER CRACKS. He is also arranging an appointment with a psychiatrist.
Although he's a very good GP he failed to go along with my suggestion that I should take up smoking again!
I suppose the abs. hang. diagnosis has not yet been universally accepted by the medical profession. Once acknowledged, the deluge of prescriptions for wines, spirits, beers and cigarettes would be too great for pharmacies to cope with!
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
Mundane Musings
It's just been one of those de-energised days, where one simply looks for fresh, non-physically active nor mentally demanding, distractions to escape the urge to nod off. That usually means attempting to catch up with e-mails, play about with a few graphics programmes and, perhaps not so unusually, looking for something to nibble.
Is this de-energised feel, and the longing for nibbles, part of a general malaise or a belated aftermath of quitting smoking some months ago! The fact that these almost lethargic states were part of me before the 'cold turkey' seems to suggest the former, as does the resumption of night-sweats etc.
The proton pump inhibitors seem to be doing a reasonable job of preventing any major reflux but, I still find myself being sparked off into 'acidic' bursts of anger with little provocation. On second thoughts, incompetent businesses (especially when they try to rip me off, or drag their feet), conservative middle-class attitudes and values etc. .., perhaps aren't such "little" provocations!
Hopefully, the generous and caring me still lurks quite close to this more caustic veneer!
PS (12.07 am - 6 April 2005) Some of this may seem familiar if you have visited Heterocon's Blog. The entry above ["If You're Reading This ..."] refers to the failure of the FTP server. In spite of a reported error I later found this item had published; meantime some of its gist had been posted elsewhere (under the misapprehension that this was a "lost" text).
Is this de-energised feel, and the longing for nibbles, part of a general malaise or a belated aftermath of quitting smoking some months ago! The fact that these almost lethargic states were part of me before the 'cold turkey' seems to suggest the former, as does the resumption of night-sweats etc.
The proton pump inhibitors seem to be doing a reasonable job of preventing any major reflux but, I still find myself being sparked off into 'acidic' bursts of anger with little provocation. On second thoughts, incompetent businesses (especially when they try to rip me off, or drag their feet), conservative middle-class attitudes and values etc. .., perhaps aren't such "little" provocations!
Hopefully, the generous and caring me still lurks quite close to this more caustic veneer!
PS (12.07 am - 6 April 2005) Some of this may seem familiar if you have visited Heterocon's Blog. The entry above ["If You're Reading This ..."] refers to the failure of the FTP server. In spite of a reported error I later found this item had published; meantime some of its gist had been posted elsewhere (under the misapprehension that this was a "lost" text).
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