twelve years on

Today is the twelfth anniversary of my marriage to Helen; on the one hand it seems amazing that all those years have passed and yet, at the same time, it feels as if we’ve always known one another. Not a day goes by that we don’t express our love for one another both verbally and (hopefully) by our actions.

Although during this time I’ve succumbed to moderate ME (an unwelcome intruder since 2003) and sundry other, probably related, chronic conditions, I can still say in all honesty these have been the best years of my life. It’s almost impossible to imagine any quality of life where we are not together.

plus ca change

One soon tires of broadcasting their bad health news, hence the paucity of postings over recent days; I await some positive bright notes with which to intersperse my ailing prose.

In so many ways I feel blessed, adoring and being adored by ma belle, having the wherewithal to keep reasonably warm regardless of what the elements have in store and, constantly being charmed and uplifted by the variety of avian visitors to the garden. What a privilege it is living relatively close to a town centre whilst, from my fireside chair, I can observe a gliding circling red kite, a charm of goldfinches embracing the nyjer seed feeders, and a bullfinch refreshing itself at the birdbath. Flurries of sparrows bound to and fro from shrubbery to feeders, as blackbirds turn over leaf-mould, amidst the reluctantly thawing residue of last weekends snow fall, at the far end of the garden.

Aches and pains in the lower limbs have been less frequent visitors during recent weeks but, those in armpit and upper arm still manage to unnerve me with their accompanying symptoms of nausea and griping crushing sensation in shoulders and rib-cage.

Having finished my large dose of antibiotics to sort out a little diverticular infection, a week last Monday, I was somewhat disappointed when the griping spasms and far too regular explosive evacuations once again took control earlier this week - a type of hyperactivity that drastically interferes with any more normal (socializing) activity. I'm just hoping that a combination of mebeverine and loperamide will enable a swift resolution.

(doing the) anniversary wash

Today was one of those anniversaries, a day when I determined to take a shower (whether I needed it or not), only to be harshly reminded of the reason that showers have become a less frequent event in the life of yours truly. By the time I'd showered, much of the time spent seated, a sense of overwhelming exhaustion (thankfully transient) took control as I stepped out and attempted to towel myself dry.

The past ten days or so have found me once again taking a roller-coaster ride in terms of my general health, ranging from a rare sense of assurance and well-being (following on from an intensive time of prayer) to times when even the sound of one sheet of paper sliding across another was sufficient to turn me into a shaking quivering wreck. On another occasion I was able to bask in the warm golden flow emanating from the acupuncture needles, a time of complete relaxation.

I'm not sure whether my current course of antibiotics, metronidazole 400mg (x3 daily) and ciprofloxacin 500mg (x2 daily) prescribed for an intestinal infection, contributes anything to, or even mildly militates against, any overall sense of comfort.

I remain, as usual, a work in progress.

of appointments and pent-up frustrations

Last Saturday found me out in the garden doing a bit of lopping, pruning and trimming of sundry shrubs. I must have spent a little over an hour enjoying a gloriously sunshiny day, as the shrubs ensured work for idle hands. Two days later, by way of reward for these endeavours, a day of numbingly aching body and soul when even switching on a kettle seemed far too great an effort.

Mid-way through my waking hours on Tuesday, I started to feel reasonably recovered (from the tortuous preceding day) so there was little to suggest the tear-fuelled emotional response to a visit to my GP’s surgery the following day.

My appointment on Wednesday afternoon was with the same GP referred to in the post “once more to the land of A&E”, and therefore a most positive prospect. Once in the consulting room, the atmosphere seemed overwhelmingly business-like as, within the allocated 10 minutes, he wanted to focus solely on symptoms of breathlessness and chest pains, thereby excluding all other aches, pains and painful disorders, from the equation. He said he was going to arrange an appointment with the cardiology department and was also sending me for further blood tests, as well as a Glucose tolerance test (requested by one of the practice nurses who had been checking my NHS Health Check results). It was also mentioned, in passing that I’d not kept appointments with the Chronic Fatigue Unit and, they had now discharged me! For the truth of this see my post “psycho-fatigue”, (which describes my departure from an assessment visit at which I informed the psychologist I wouldn’t be paying any further visits to the Unit and, hence, discharged myself).

As I headed back home, with my beloved, I was overwhelmed with a pent-up frustration and tears flooded out. I felt as if I was being treated as a chest-pain, not at all as a person! When I got home the tears flowed even more freely and I declared that I wouldn’t bother with any of their b…dy tests. Being told that I’d failed to keep appointments at the psycho-fatigue unit, a false surmise, turned out to be the final straw that released all the pent-up frustration.

Ma Belle swiftly contacted the surgery to inform them how distraught I was after the appointment. A short time later I received a ‘phone call from the same GP I had seen earlier, as he wanted to understand why I should be so upset and, at the same time apologized if he’d misread the situation and seemed too business-like!

Early evening our doorbell rang – an unexpected visitor had arrived! The doctor, having finished his surgery duties, had in his own time called around to visit us and enquire what he could do to help! I was assured that he hoped to take a holistic approach and, he once again apologized for misreading the situation. Talk about going the extra mile! The visit ended most amicably and I will be seeing him again on Monday for a further twenty minute consultation.

Meanwhile I’m bracing myself for tomorrow’s early morning bloodletting session at the District Hospital.

once more to the land of A&E

Yesterday morning I was feeling a little more shattered than is my norm but, I managed to remove myself from the duvet lair by 11.30. A brief bout of surfing the web provoked no enthusiasm so, I settled for applying Windows Update to sundry machines whilst listening to something or other on the radio.

Early afternoon, when ma belle and Beth had returned from a mini shopping spree, I prepared a griddled salmon, peppers and mushroom stir fry served with jacket potatoes but, during this (none too taxing) food preparation I began to feel a bit more jaded than usual, even becoming a little stressed.

At about 16.00hrs, I walked with ma belle to collect a prescription from my GP practice, approximately five minutes walking time; I found myself struggling to keep pace with Helen and, apart from aching lower limbs, I became a little breathless. Having collected the prescription the next phase was to drop it into the pharmacist whilst we went to the café a couple of doors along.

That’s when things began to fall apart; even the few yards walk seemed a daunting task as giddiness, breathlessness and a tight constricting sensation in chest and abdomen took control. My beloved took me back into the pharmacists where I found a seat and was proffered a glass of water. An overwhelming cloying discomfort through head, torso and limbs, briefly took control before I began to feel more settled. Meantime, ma belle chauffeuse had brought the car around to the pharmacy to run me back home.

This being the second time in a few days when I’ve experienced such un-nerving symptoms, it seemed a good idea to try to fix an appointment with one of the GPs in my practice. A doctor spoke to me, and ma belle, over the ‘phone and, he thought it imperative that I went down to A&E at the District Hospital.

I was really impressed by the efficiency and thoroughness of clerks, nurses and doctor in the department. I was sent through for initial assessment, BP check etc., within ten minutes of reporting at reception and was wired up for an ECG within thirty minutes. The doctor who examined me was extremely thorough, imbuing me with some much needed confidence, as he sounded out my chest and painstakingly examined the whole abdominal region. He inserted a canula in my arm in preparation for taking several phials of blood for testing, and then requested a urine sample.

The GP, who had suggested I attend A&E, had already checked with the department that I’d arrived and enquired how I was. My blood pressure was rather high (high blood pressure seems to be trending with me these days), even the diastolic had gone soaring, the first couple of times it was checked. Later, my blood pressure was checked again, this time in both supine and standing positions.

Once blood test results had been obtained the doctor returned and re-examined my abdominal region. As the blood tests were all clear he prepared me for discharge but, I then had to wait for some antibiotics to be dispensed as the urine sample had shown up an infection. Once again I must express my gratitude for a wonderful NHS and hope, campaign, and pray that the Tory plans to destroy it can be de-railed.

This morning, shortly after 9.00am, my GP rang me to see how I was. With such concern being shown, I am more than ever convinced that my transferring to the neighbourhood doctors’ surgery, from the one I’d been with since the 1970s, was totally fortuitous.

early one morning

Friday morning, removed myself from the duvet lair at a markedly early hour which, viewed retrospectively, was a big mistake. Rather than my usual time of arising, some time after 10.30 - followed by a period of relaxation, this morning I was up and dressed before 9.00am in order to keep an appointment with my dentist. Apart from the unearthly hour, a further source of discomfort was a bout of diarrhoea requiring me to dose myself with loperamide before leaving the house.

Ma belle parked the car some five to eight minutes walk from the dental practice which, in the circumstances, turned out to be a further mistake. Long before we had reached my goal, an all enveloping sense of shatteredness set in, starting with the lower limbs. On arrival at the dentists, an urgent visit to the loo was necessitated, on return from which I was overwhelmed by the encroaching shatteredness, a painfully discomforting sensation of giddiness and general disorientation.

By this time I’d evidently become totally drained of colour, and the receptionist called for the dental surgeon to come through to reception. R, the dentist, decided it would be unwise to proceed with the current appointment and, she sat with me whilst my beloved went to collect the car, and bring it to the door, to chauffeur me home. Meantime, an afternoon appointment has been made for later in the month and, the dentist told me that if I feel at all unwell it’s alright to cancel even if it’s only five minutes before the appointed time.

It was the first time that this medical professional had ever seen me looking unwell, regardless of my sundry ailments; seems to be par for the course with any invisible illness. The only time that others encounter oneself outside the homestead is, by definition, on a better day.

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!

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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.