Slow Running

 

I doubt that it’s possible to resist this inbred protestant work ethic, and its consequent guilt trip. I’m the guy who, for many observers, seemed so laid back that, even when standing upright, my spine must have been around 45 degrees from the horizontal and yet, this gnawing guilt persistently upsets me.

For the past few years, for health reasons, I’ve been unable to undertake any employment paid or voluntary, each day being so unpredictable, presenting the unexpected obstacle or fresh hope; physical and emotional stamina rarely coincide even on the best of days. A major regret is that, when I was enjoying better health, I pushed myself that bit too far; my current ability to pace myself, to subsist on a lower altitude plateau, does not come easily.

A very good day for me, these days, means running at as high as 35% of what would have been a quite sluggish activity level for me a few short years ago, and yet, I’m still plagued by guilt. I ought to be doing more; forget the fact that taking a shower is frequently a daily task too far, cleaning my teeth an effort too much when exhaustion suddenly overtakes me, I should be doing more; I should be out there earning an honest living.

Of course the media, and politicians of all persuasions, almost daily attack anyone living on disability or incapacity benefits as degenerate scroungers. If only some of that vitriol could have been spared to attack the greed driven recklessness of the banking fraternity, or the many hours wasted (and billions of pounds lost to treasury) by those working out ever more devious tax-avoidance schemes for those who already have more income annually than most of us can expect to earn in a lifetime, our economy might now be in a far healthier state.

Perhaps in a few months time, when I chronologically comply with / qualify for the Old Age Pension, the “guilt” will flee from me. Somehow that could be the time for freeing up; it’s currently difficult to admit that I’m enjoying being a gentleman of leisure, whilst I so wish for the energy to be running in a far less leisurely mode.

plumbing the heights and scaling the depths

A dull, numb, lightly throbbing pressure behind the eyeballs; a leaden ache above the eyebrows; a general sense of hollowness within the skull and torso – the kind of discomfort that it is so difficult to express. Today, this has taken pole position against the competing sharper, sometimes excruciating, pains and discomfort emanating from the sciatic nerve.

It’s extremely difficult to formulate a table of aches, pains and discomfort; how does a constant low key gnawing, of a bruising kind, compare to an experience of an acute electric shock? Can numbness in any way be correlated with a more instantly sharply stinging sensation?

What does one express on a visit to the GP?

In my case it’s always the (perhaps transient) currently preoccupying dis-ease that is foremost in the more general catalogue of sensations; the ongoing symptoms of a chronic condition are rarely raised. These (permanent) discomforts are always least apparent when one has the physical and emotional stamina required to make, or permit my beloved to make, the appointment in the first place. I am fortunate with my GP’s, that they generally give me the time necessary to make the point but, even so, there are always the omnipresent discomforts that I don’t want to bother them with.

I suppose that the recent disabling excruciating pain, caused by a herniated disc, so overshadowed my regular discomforting companions that, had I been able to overlook the surface anguish, I could have imagined myself as being in the best of health.

The snow, outside of course, reflects the sunshine’s dazzling glare around the sitting room; my eyes ache from this glorious assault. The gas fire is turned up high but, the cold shudders, which I’m experiencing, strive to deny the fact.

Firms' secret tax avoidance schemes cost UK billions | Business | The Guardian

I’ve always known that there’s one law for the rich and another for the rest of us! Indeed, I suspect that a very fine margin separates the (nominally) legal tax avoidance and the (definitely) illegal tax evasion. The business communities lack of patriotism is most noticeable – they’ll take all the handouts and avoid any payouts; the poor as always subsidise the rich.

“The veil of confidentiality that covers these tax avoidance schemes is so difficult to penetrate that nobody knows exactly how much tax goes missing each year. But HM Revenue & Customs estimated that the size of the tax gap could be anything between £3.7bn and £13bn. The Commons public accounts committee put it at a possible £8.5bn and the TUC said £12bn.”

Firms' secret tax avoidance schemes cost UK billions | Business | The Guardian

ON THE WRONG SIDE OF HISTORY

“Of all the beautiful phrases in Barack Obama's inauguration speech, these are the words that stuck in my mind: "You are on the wrong side of history."

He was talking about the tyrannical regimes of the world. But we, too, should ponder these words

In the last few days I have heard a lot of declarations from Ehud Barak, Tzipi Livni, Binyamin Netanyahu and Ehud Olmert. And every time, these eight words came back to haunt me: "You are on the wrong side of history!"”

These words are the opening of an article by Uri Avneri – it really warmed my heart to discover such an Israeli journalist and peace activist (a former Irgun and Knesset member). 

To my shame I had never previously been aware of the life and work of this great man. His website address is: http://www.avnery-news.co.il/ 

I stumbled across the full article on Ekklesia.co.uk

Editorial: Why the BBC is wrong over the Gaza appeal | Comment is free | The Observer

“That the population of Gaza is experiencing a humanitarian crisis is a matter of fact, not political hypothesis. That the crisis follows directly as a result of action by the Israeli Defence Force is also hardly a matter for speculation. What grounds then, might the BBC judge a charitable appeal on behalf of the people of Gaza to be politically partisan?”

I’m still in a state of disbelief over the BBC’s exceedingly partial decision against the citizens of Gaza!

There should never have been a need for editorials such as this.

Editorial: Why the BBC is wrong over the Gaza appeal | Comment is free | The Observer

BBC Conspiracy

 

Much as I can be fascinated by conspiracy theories, I don’t always have much time for them. The BBC’s refusal to broadcast an appeal, supported by such subversive organizations as Christian Aid, Red Cross, Oxfam etc., for humanitarian aid for Gaza, on the grounds that it might demonstrate bias is almost beyond belief.

 

There must have been considerable pressure applied, from Zionist / Pro-Israeli pressure groups, to help the BBC reach such a ridiculous decision. Interestingly, a caller to BBC Radio 4’s “Any Answers” programme who dared to hint at such collusion was immediately and rudely disconnected by the programmes presenter.

 

Methinks there’s something rotten in the state of Broadcasting House.

 

Matters Arising

 

 

Tensions mount as the appointed hour for the great disclosure approaches. Although pretty cool about the whole thing, the nearer the disclosure the more, at an almost unconscious level, little anxieties creep in; “what ifs” abound. Perhaps some sinister shadowy condition is the source of my ailments, an organic disease that I’d rather be unaware of.  The whole episode becomes quite absurd, one has a scan to try to find out the cause of a certain condition only to (belatedly) realize that perhaps it would be better to remain in the dark about such causes.

 

My beloved was becoming more overtly concerned about what the scan may have disclosed; worried about organs of the body that may be diseased and, of which my severe discomfort may simply be an obscurely veiled indicator of a much more critical condition. Her obvious upset with this thought, found a counterpart in me as my (only vaguely considered) concerns were given body and substance. This was perhaps the transforming motive whereby my “Que Sera, Sera” was converted into an anxiety laden wondering what.

 

We visited my GP this morning; he soon put our minds at ease by saying that the report sounded much more sinister than it really was; amongst other things, the MRI had disclosed a 12mm hernia on one of the discs, it really is amazing what havoc such a tiny intrusion / protrusion, in the vicinity of the sciatic nerve, can wreak. He then presented me with the options of consulting a neurosurgeon or, “doing nothing” – quite simply continuing with a programme of pain management as and when necessary. For the time being, I’ve settled for the do nothing option as I’m all too well aware of the risks involved in any spinal surgery.

 

Should the extreme pain be sustained for increasing periods of time, becoming incapacitating on an even more regular basis than at present, that’s when the neurosurgical route will have to be followed.  

Sleeping - Waking - Waiting

 

It’s no longer sleep that’s the problem but rather waking. Great as it feels to be getting some real deep sleep, having previously experienced so many painfully restless nights, the necessity of sleep now seems to be overplaying its hand. Whilst I am really appreciative of the extra time (theoretically) I have to spend with my beloved, as she has been taking a few days leave, my extra sleep requirement has somewhat eaten into these precious moments.

 

Presently, my pain management routine seems to be kicking in; it’s almost a case of pain remaining at acceptable levels, permitting one the ability to think, and even concentrate, for a somewhat more sustained period. There is just so much to be grateful for!

 

This afternoon, I received a ‘phone call from my GP’s practice and, have duly made an appointment for Wednesday morning to discuss the results of my MRI scan. I’m not committed to anticipating either the worst or the best from these results; it’s simply a case of remaining patient until I get them. It was quite a surprise to hear so soon as, when I’d had the scan last Thursday, they informed me that it would be approximately two weeks before my doctor would have the result.  

Mal's Joy

Today's posting, Commonplace Joy, can be found on 'Mal's Murmurings'

Sonic Vibrations

Disrobed and prepared, time hangs slowly, waiting to enter the unknown zone.

The first bit’s nice, lie down, head on the pillow; a pillow propping up the knees to ensure optimum stability and comfort, alleviates my anxiety regarding maintaining stillness for the duration. Headphones firmly clamped in place, emergency / panic button placed at ones fingertips and it’s all systems go. Just a last check to make sure one’s arms are well tucked in, before the slide into the cylinder begins.

Curiosity takes over and, I’m desperate to know how light or dark it’ going to be in the belly of the machine. As it turns out to be light, next decision to be made is do I close my eyes or leave them open; the awareness that its light also enables one to be fully aware of just what a confined space they are within. Close the eyes and this restraint has gone; there could be all the space in the world out there so, what’s the worry? To my surprise there are no worries at all, nor is there any real awareness of time.

The soundscape is rather like an avant-garde techno-trance experiment. What’s lacking in the drum and bass field is more than compensated for by the healthy bass balance in all the proffered sounds, bass, treble or mid-range. To my ears, this random array of note clusters strikes me as quite tonal, a remarkable absence of discomforting dissonance.

It’s virtually impossible to apply any regular time signature to this precocious rhythmical melody; at times one is aware of the absence of note-clusters, a blanketed industrial washing machine being heard some distance off, before the music begins again.

Following on from this excursion, to a rather exclusive little music club, my GP will be informed of the results of my MRI scan within two weeks.