of flight and storm clouds

Yesterday ma belle et moi spent six swiftly fleeting hours, 14.30 onwards, at my freshly re-discovered friend Kay’s apartment, where we enjoyed much conversation and a wonderful array of refreshments. Before venturing out I’d already had to resort to sundry medicaments, having experienced a considerable degree of discomfort, but during those socializing hours I, thankfully, only experienced the most moderate discomfort.

The subsequent restless night came as little surprise and, as per my norm, I re-emerged from the duvet realm, this morning, feeling more than a degree under refreshed! Early afternoon found me still in reasonably good spirits, considering the previous day’s exertions, but no sooner had my optimism (in matters of health) begun to take flight than the storm clouds rolled in.

A sudden throbbing ache in both biceps necessitated an urgent squeezing of the upper arms against the torso. Shortly afterwards the all too familiar intense gnawing discomfort in the armpits took hold. A painful ache in the wrists, alternating between dull bruise-like and sharp burning throbs, was somewhat alleviated by the application of splints, as I awaited the relief proffered by an additional dose of tramadol.

The disposition of my upper limbs underwent a most flamboyant choreography as I shifted them from an extended posture behind the back, to clamping them tightly by my side whilst I sat on my splinted hands. The armpits continued to feel tortuously tickled, hollowly crumbling, provoking an intense sensation of dis-ease and nausea.

Having recovered sufficiently from that earlier dis-ease, I am now settled down with my beloved, to enjoy Prokofiev’s ‘Cinderella’ ballet [BBC4].  This festive season, the Beeb have already treated us to The Nutcracker Ballet as well as a ballet based upon Alice's Adventures in Wonderland - how's that for pampering!

^^^^^^^^^^
my New Year Greetings have been posted on 'Mal's Murmurings'

Of Celebration and Payback

And just when you think it’s all going well, the old devil returns.

 During the past few weeks I’d been enjoying copious doses of Advent and Christmas music, predominantly of the sacred variety, as I looked forward to our quiet Christmas celebrations (just ma belle Helen, Beth and myself). To be perfectly honest, I was quite surprised by how well I’d managed Christmas decorations, food preparation, and sundry minor pressures such festivities may place upon one. Admittedly, the run up to Christmas week wasn’t without an occasional venture into the realm of shatteredness, with spasmodic eruptions of acute pain.

As lunch-time on Boxing Day approached, my chronically throbbing aching wrists allied themselves with intense convulsive pains in both biceps and shoulders. It felt as if my torso was being crushed whilst, simultaneously, being stretched on a rack. The effort of holding the DVD recorder’s remote control, in readiness for starting off a recording, seemed to set every nerve-ending on edge; a kind of pulsating bruise surged through my forearms and shoulders which, in turn, contributed to an all pervasive feeling of nausea.

For the first time in ages, the degree and intensity of pain and discomfort produced a convulsive sobbing response.

I love and adore my family, every moment spent with ma belle amoureuse affirms the privilege of love, and I always wish to affirm all the most positive values and emotions that the season represents. The joy of the season is somewhat marred by the realization / recognition that even my somewhat low-key exertion, as we prepare and celebrate, seems to demand a degree of excruciating payback in return.

moments magic

The ache, the joy and pain of transience;

this morning I experienced

 that almost

 indescribable ache and joy -

a mystical moment -

 a Red Kite wheeled and soared

 over our garden

floodlit by a clear blue sunlit sky.

Within minutes -

 of the bird venturing further afield -

heavy grey clouds had swamped out the sunlight.

Malcolm Evison

No rest for the shattered!

Yesterday was the busiest day I’ve spent for a considerable period of time; our friends Roy & Jacqui visited us mid-morning for a little chat. The course of the conversation, over the next three to four hours, was by turns both intimate and challenging, and covered reflection on our sundry life experiences, matters of faith, healing, and the place and limitations of reason. The person of Jesus the Christ proved a central focus to this time of fellowship.

A couple of hours after our visitors departure, Helen and I headed off to the Acorn Centre, where Helen helps as a volunteer, for their Christmas Party. The traditional Christmas dinner was cooked to perfection, and the chef received a very warm round of applause just as he’d intended to sneak quietly away! We enjoyed a quiz which followed the meal; the fact that ours was the winning team probably added a little extra to our enjoyment, and we were then entertained by the music group whose enthusiasm always compensates for any musical limitations. After three hours my body was telling me it was time to go and, I felt quite shattered by the time we arrived back home.

Although I felt achingly tired, by the time I attempted to immerse myself in the duvet realm, an intense excruciating discomfort in shoulders, armpits and upper limbs generally, made it impossible to find a restful posture. My whole body was convulsively shuddering as I, repeatedly, failed to find an appropriately comfortable position. A primary distraction from this upper limb discomfort was my essential response to the, all too familiar, erratically spasmodic intestinal convulsions.

An additional dose of tramadol was called for, before a sufficient easing of the upper limbs and torso discomfort was found. Having got into bed at around 22.15hrs, I eventually found a degree of comfort by 01.45hrs but, even then, an overactive/over-stimulated mind ensured that I remained awake until at least 06.00hrs.

a wimp addresses the nation

To be perfectly honest, I’m not coping at all well; I feel like the A1 definition of a wimp. It’s the way a set of (quite minor) incidents so easily seem to form an insurmountable aggregate of frustration, that’s really getting to me.

A simple combination of orthostatic intolerance, intermittent excruciating muscular dis-ease, spastic colon and diverticular discomfort, shouldn’t in principle detract from a full enjoyment of life but, when they collude, the bastards do tend to get one down!

sorry 'bout this ...

For the past hour and a half, since about 17.30hrs, I’ve been divided between allowing myself to drift off to sleep or struggling to remain awake. It’s a regular occurrence mid to late afternoon to be fending off an excruciating fatigue, seemingly regardless as to the amount of sleep I’ve managed to grab the preceding night and morning; un-refreshing intermittent nocturnal sleep has just about been par for the course these past several years. Currently I’m sat with both wrists splinted in an attempt to alleviate an extremely discomforting ache in both hands and forearms, alongside a nausea inducing uneasiness in the armpits which requires me to squeeze the upper arms tightly in to the torso.

At least, today, I am not experiencing any submandibular aches and pain, nor is my spastic colon (or the diverticular disease) troubling me as much as it has done for the past several days. Even my lower limbs seem relatively trouble free.

Sorry, but current discomfort prevents any further keyboard endeavour for the time being …

Journeying On

The rather more upbeat days continued through to Tuesday of this week; I was even able to visit ‘Open Church’ on two successive days, Monday and Tuesday, for coffee and conversation. Admittedly, sundry medications still have their role to play as part of a general coping mechanism but, it really is great to feel rather more comfortable within my corporeal frame. At the conclusion of Tuesday’s visit I welcomed the prayers of Roy and Jacqueline that I may discern a readiness / preparedness for healing. As one who constantly strives to rationalize their faith, I have difficulty in accepting that simple spiritual gift.

Wednesday saw something of a setback in terms of muscular and joint pain but, more disconcertingly, painful intestinal grumblings (and hyper-activity) put paid to any notion of venturing beyond the confines of the house. Fortunately, recent positive activities have served to keep any acute sense of frustration at bay. By Thursday afternoon I was able to cautiously venture out to Café Culture and, I visited the café once again on Friday in the company of ma belle and Beth.

This evening I’ve prepared a casserole in readiness for Sunday dinner, a spiced chicken, mushroom and peppers casserole; even though I’ve had a healthy sufficiency of food during the day, this dish has certainly tantalized the tastebuds.

joyous participation

After the preceding rather downbeat post, it comes as something of a relief to be able to report a few days when low key socializing has become very much a part of the week’s routine. Opportunities to participate in quite sustained periods of conversation / dialogue, and a corresponding sufficiency of emotional stamina, have felt almost like little miracles.

It has been far too long since I was a participant, or felt able to participate, in such animated conversation on matters of faith, politics and general life experience. I feel greatly blessed in meeting R. and J. at ‘Open Church’, on Monday, and the subsequent conversation chez nous.  I’ve managed to find the stamina to visit Open Church on three occasions this week, as well as attending and contributing to a lively meeting of the local Labour Party branch and, thoroughly enjoying an evening meal with Janet & Graham at their home in Killinghall.

Wow, I almost feel exhausted by the realization that I’ve been able to manage so much this week.

For all of this I am truly thankful!

from Minor to the more mundane

Sometimes the desire to communicate "from" overwhelms the paucity of substance from which one may wish to communicate. At others, that very desire (to communicate) is thwarted by an insufficiency of physical and/or emotional stamina. I am, currently, undergoing a rather prolonged wilderness trek.

Whilst I observe nature's changing seasons, primarily in the context of our gardens flora and fauna, I'm reluctant to admit to my own ageing. Having already felt rather decrepit, for a considerable period of time, the next season for me hardly bears thinking about; much better that I skip a season and pray for Spring's renewal.

The furthest my adventurous spirit has allowed me to travel of late is 'Open Church' at our local parish church or, even closer to home, 'Cafe Culture' located within a few hundred yards of our front door.

 A somewhat spastic colon puts paid to any desire to venture further afield whilst sundry, at times excruciating, muscular aches and pains contribute little to any such desire. Discomforting armpit and submandibular tenderness, an erratically irregular sore throat, acid reflux and post nasal drip, are worthy daytime adjuncts to nocturnal restlessness, night sweats and unrefreshing sleep.

Life is never without its drama, as one may be instantly transported from a state of relative alertness to that of a shattering exhaustion.

psycho-fatigue

Yesterday, I wasted a morning by attending an appointment at the chronic fatigue unit. After an initial, fairly lengthy, chat with an OT I had to wait in a corridor until a social psychologist deigned to materialize.

When the psycho did emerge I felt that there was something lacking in the interpersonal skills department. She seemed determined to prove that all my problems, aches and pains etc., must somehow boil down to low self-esteem and/or money & security worries. Way off beam!

Having mentioned my problems in coping with bustling supermarkets, sensory overload etc. and, the need to sit down and/or get out into the fresh air, it seemed as if the wind in her tail was forcing her to posit an absurd hypothetical supermarket where I was unable to find a seat and there was no way out - how would I react? Obviously I wasn't going to waste my time answering such a ludicrous hypothesis and, after about the fifth repeat of the question, by way of a response I told her I was leaving and duly walked out.

Although I was quite calm, apart from not suffering fools gladly,she followed me out into the corridor stating that she didn't intend to cause me to have a panic attack; even if she had intended to, I'm afraid that she would have failed abysmally!

Having released myself from the duvet realm a good hour earlier than is my norm, in order to attend,and subsequently spending an exhausting 110 minutes in the department, I was relieved to escape from the Wessely-an lair.