The Circle Of Guilt

Today has been a day on my own, as my beloved has gone over to meet her brother David in Horton-in-Ribblesdale. How I would have loved to have gone off on this jaunt but, travel is something I’m just unable to contemplate at present. Much as I hate being parted from Helen, for any amount of time, it’s always pleasing to see how much her health has improved.

At times I find myself feeling guilty as my ill-health potentially holds us back from most joint social activities. It truly is devastating how fatigue, and associated discomforts, divorce one from a once reasonably active social life. When eleven hours of nocturnal sleep leave one unrefreshed, perhaps in part due to spasmodic disruptions (miscellaneous muscular and joint aches, aggressive bouts of reflux etc.), it becomes increasingly difficult to motivate ones-self to follow any regular routine.

Even when one has had this (excessive) amount of sleep, it still does not alleviate the need for further rest during the day. The erratic nature of these various symptoms, make it incredibly difficult to plan any activities in advance. Being incapable of planning any outings with my beloved, I feel guilty; this is harmful to my beloved so the guilt intensifies. I apologize for not being well but, of course, this makes no sense … pardon me for living etc. …! And so the guilt rolls on.

Frustration with the situation leads to mood changes, and occasional inappropriate outbursts of temper, yet overall I feel so privileged to be in such a loving relationship. Being grateful, I want to give more but am unable to; guilt is once more the result!

Being unable to perform any routine occupation, since leaving my part-time employment some 22 months ago, conflicts with the Protestant Work Ethic into which I was born and raised. Result: Guilt. Any occupation requires a degree of alertness, energy, concentration, each quality which is in randomly short supply.

And so the circle goes on … and on … and ….

A Little Mystery

The mythology surrounding the Dove, be it Greek, Indian or Biblical is immensely fascinating. For me one of the most potent factors for it becoming a peace symbol is it's lack of bile or gall. What suddenly made me think about this was, my wife bringing home a Peace Lily (Spathiphyllum) and, on the care instructions came the following caution : "Sap may irritate skin".

So, we have the dove totally without bile as a symbol of peace and, the peace lily with an irritant sap. I have not yet formulated the lesson to be gained.

A Mind Of Their Own

From time to time, certain computer programmes seem to respond/not respond in a completely unpredictable fashion. One is almost tempted to believe that they are human!

Today whilst attempting to copy an item from a particular webpage into MS Word, I repeatedly encountered the query whether I wished to send an error report. After five or six failed attempts decided to give up. This occurred whilst using IE as my web-browser. By way of experiment tried pasting the same item into Open Office Writer : no problem!

Switched over to Firefox and, no problem copying the same item into MS Word. It is almost as if there was a bit of internecene conflict in the MS camp. Perhaps it's yet another glitch with IE, I've been getting quite used to them but, on further testing, it only seems to be when I'm copying from that particular webpage.

I'll just have to regard the temporary frustration as another aspect of life's rich tapestry and, find a life!

Faecal Emissions

The sun actually emerged from behind the milky clouds, for how long I'm unable to tell you. Having just eaten my lunch, exhaustion simply overtook me and a 'few minutes' lie down ate up a goodly portion of the afternoon. In general it has been a day of grogginess for me and, sheer frustration as I glanced at the form that the DWP require me to complete. A requirement, in several places, to "tick one box only" where two or three may apply (dependent on the day) is a particular cause of frustration verging on anger.

The prospect of a further medical examination, the waiting area (into which one is locked for periods of time) is extremely claustrophobic and, the journey to get there is for me nothing short of a nightmare.

In all, a day of stress, anxiety and exhaustion. I have until the end of the month to complete the impossible form but, I don't want to hang on to it for too long. Official forms remind me of faeces; it is with total relief one expels them from one's system. On this happy note, I bid my readers adieu.

A Lost Golden Age

Since my emergence from the bedroom, for a quick nicotine fix, some forty minutes ago, I've been on-line without absorbing any of the contents of the web-pages I've been viewing. Such is my state of wakefulness. It really is hard to get used to the amount of rest my mind & body seems to require these days.

The, none too distant, past seems like a golden age; there was a time when I could plan ahead, set myself targets, lead a quite full social life and, still have energy remaining for whatever unforeseen tasks should arise. At present, even on a good day, any task requires me to strike while the iron's hot as, ten minutes either way can make a whole world's difference as to my physical & emotional preparedness/ability to perform. The most frustrating aspect is not knowing, even one hour ahead, how I'm going to be fixed to cope with the task in hand.

Outside, the sky is still quite milky but hints at a little more brightness than the past few days. Hope my spirits & stamina can respond in an appropriate way.

They Also Serve

After a somewhat earlier, but bleary-eyed, start to the day, eventually recovered my composure sufficiently to remember the pond fishes lunchtime feed. As I'd started my day with a 'grill-up', a bowl of Wheat Biscuit cereal served my lunchtime purposes and, this evening will be resorting to a microwaveable Indian meal.

Went out to get my flu-jab this afternoon and, quite amazingly was able to walk straight in and out. It's great when one chooses the right time of day, when it's an all-day walk-in surgery.

I've just prepared the gammon joint (for Sunday lunch) and put it in to roast, as well as parboiling the potatoes (lovingly peeled and diced by ma belle amoureuse) in ginger, garlic, turmeric and mixed herb infused water. They have just received a further sprinkling of garlic and herbs whilst still warm and, are becoming impatient to be popped into the roasting tin come tomorrow lunchtime. ["They also serve, who only stand and wait"!]

Strength in Weakness

Having spent some 12 to 13 hours in bed, at least 11 of them (even allowing for spasmodic interruptions) sleeping, it was still a struggle to raise myself from the duvet’s encumbrance. The fact that only a dull grey day revealed itself, from behind the curtain, may have contributed a little to the sustained bed-rest. I was evidently “burning-up” (my beloved’s description) for a fair bit of my rest time but, that’s not at all unusual.

Getting out of bed, and dressed, required a major effort of will! Having motivated myself, for this heroic deed, I have to admit that sleep has yet to prove itself a source of refreshment!

My first exertion of the day was to check my e-mails and, subsequently, rattle out “Caiman – came and went” in the guise of my alter-ego Heterocon. Whilst posting a response to an e-mail on a commerce website, the ‘phone rang and quickly demonstrated that even the most minor application of ‘multi-tasking’ is beyond the remit of my physical and emotional stamina. Concentration was impossible on either the website or the ‘phone call.

Still, I soldier on, in the sure and certain knowledge that I am loved in the most important quarters (e.g. ma belle Helene & JC), despite my frail and vulnerable flesh. In love, I am strong.

Hoping S/He's Rambling On

No sign of Tiggy today; perhaps the nourishment, received yesterday afternoon, allowed T to catch up on some restorative sleep before setting off on some more normal nocturnal snufflings around the neighbourhood gardens. All his relatives are more than welcome, in our garden, to enjoy an abundance of slugs and, come hibernation time, we have now installed a proper hedgehog house, suitably sited and camouflaged with leaves and soil.

His visit yesterday, for all the concern it caused us, proved a bright spot in what had been a 'bad' day for me. Thanks Tiggy!

Our Amazing Little Friend

Took a little walk up the garden, with my beloved, before lunch to feed the goldfish. We then went to check if there were any apples remaining, on the trees in the 'wildife' area of the garden. Walking back down the lawn, Helen made a sudden startled movement, which in turn made me jump. The cause of the start, a little hedgehog well 'balled up' in the middle of the lawn had been the cause of Helen's 'trip'. The little creature, which could have almost been mistaken for a tussock of brown coarse grass, had found a strange place to rest as, being the middle of the day we didn't expect 'Tiggy' to be out for a walk. Normally, at most, we catch a fleeting nocturnal glimpse of these creatures.

Next step, get out my gardening gloves to pick him/her up and see if she was OK. Tiggy seemed to be having a little doze but, was he simply stunned? Carried the little fella (or fella-ess, whatever the gender may be) up to the wilder area of the garden and placed it under the bushes.

By mid-afternoon, when I'd recovered from my mini-collapse (detailed by Heterocon), went to check up on our new found friend but, there was no trace of the creature. Half-an-hour later, when ma belle had returned from the Doctor's surgery, we spotted wee 'Tiggy' on the concrete near the back door, head to one side and, looking totally pitiful. Once more, on with the gardening gloves and Tiggy was placed in a box with some wee morsels of sliced chicken and a drop of water. The worrying thing was that he didn't 'ball-up' when I went to pick him up, the vulnerability of the weak perhaps! It wasn't long, however, before we heard a delightfully repeated 'shlurrup' as he made short work of his first course.

Being concerned about the little fella's well-being, Helen phoned the RSPCA who suggested we take Tiggy to a local vets to be checked out. During the car journey, the hedgehog became a little more lively. The vet thought it seemed quite healthy, relatively tic free and with good strong limbs. The most worrying factor was his weight, a mere 275gms; will it be possible to attain the sugggested 550-600gms required to survive the hibernation period.

On return home, we hastily erected a makeshift hedgehog house ... lined out with dry leaves and, released Tiggy near it's entrance. Next requirement was to purchase some meat (not fish) cat food as, we intend to leave some food out for him each evening, to help him put on weight and gain some strength. If we catch a glimpse of him and, he seems to be failing, we'll have to find a box for him in the top shed to protect him from the frosts when they arrive.

No 'blog entry today

Energy and concentration levels are rather low today so, I proffer my apologies for lack of a blog entry. Heterocon has recorded my late emergence into the waking day.