Mal murmurs again

My latest post -
down and out or up and at 'em -
can be found on 'Mal's Murmurings'

postscript to yesterday's tale of tribulation

this is a postscript to yesterday's post (avoiding an incompetence premium rate call)

                                                     *************

As the tracking page for my delivery (via Interlink Express) continued to display the unable to deliver etc. … call #..... to rearrange delivery message, throughout the day and into the evening, I began to think that my telephonic communication had been totally ignored.

When my beloved returned home from work, in the evening, she found an unable to deliver (as no one had been in) note attached to the outside of the external porch chez-nous. Why it was attached there only the driver knows as there is a letterbox on the external porch and on the main door into the house. Adjacent to the door is one of these new-fangled contraptions, namely a door-bell, the access to which is not restricted, as the door of the external porch is always open!

By this time I was feeling despairingly pissed off, emotionally and physically drained. We have numerous packages delivered each year and, with this one exception, the delivery person has been capable of entering the porch and either ringing the doorbell or knocking on the house door!

The message on the tracking page, by this morning, informed me that the package had been delivered to the local depot. As soon as the office opened at 8.00am my beloved phoned them to ask when we could expect delivery and was informed that it was in the process of being loaded and scanned then, after a further hour during which the status remained unchanged ma belle called them again only to be informed that it could be anytime up until 10.00am before the van was fully loaded! [Thoughts of the Tardis ran through my mind – an ever expanding chamber materializing within the confines of a transit van].

By some miracle, no doubt unaffected by our pestering calls, a couple of minutes later the delivery time (10.18 – 11.18) had been posted on the tracking board! This time the delivery went smoothly! By about 10.35 the parcel was received and duly signed for.

**************

Shortly afterwards a Royal Mail delivery brought us the item which had been omitted from yesterday’s parcel. … and they all lived happily ever after ….  

AVOIDING an INCOMPETENCE PREMIUM rate call

How wonderful I thought, a delivery company that actually gives a one hour time slot in which the item will be delivered! The company in question is Interlink Express and, the sense of wonderment soon evaporated.

 

For the second time this week I removed myself from the duvet lair at an earlier hour than would be the normal requirement and sat, patiently and quietly, awaiting the aforementioned delivery. The delivery slot given online was 08.56 to 09.56, and I sat waiting from 08.30 until 10.56 but, the delivery failed to materialize!

 

At this point I went back online to be told that they attempted to deliver but there was no-one there to sign for the parcel. Adding insult to injury they gave an 0844 number to call and a card number to quote (needless to say no physical card appeared chez nous. Fortunately I went online to saynoto0870.com and found a normal number to phone and simply ask them to put me through to INTERLINK EXPRESS. It turned out that it’s just as well that I didn’t use the 0844 number as I was put on hold for a few minutes whilst the operative attempted to contact the driver on his mobile.

 

They eventually said that the driver was now 1½ hours away so wouldn’t be able to come back and, the operative wasn’t authorized to give instructions. He admitted that the driver had gone to the wrong address but “that’s only human error” to which I responded that they have a postcode and a satnav so that’s no excuse. He further said that he would contact the depot and ask them to get the delivery ready for me pronto; once again he added that he could only ask them not instruct. Why have a helpline if the operatives don’t have any authority?

 

In marked contrast, a parcel despatched yesterday from a different company in SE England, this time by ROYAL MAIL (the company the government intends to eviscerate) was received at 11.30am this morning. Excellent service from ROYAL MAIL. The only thing was, the major item from this order had accidentally been omitted but the company assure me that I should receive it tomorrow (I’d have been really worried if they were using Interlink Express).

no more the adventurer

You’d think, by now, that I’d have learnt to pace myself, after all the theory is quite simple! All one has to remember is to keep some physical (and emotional) stamina in reserve; one has of course always to remember how much lower the energy reserve plateau is than it was pre-illness onset.

 

 Before I succumbed to this condition, (moderate ME), I would think nothing of walking to work, being on my feet most of the day, then coming home, going out to concert, gig, cinema, exhibition preview, attend house group, and later return home all on foot. Very few hours abed would serve to restore energy levels to the necessary level. Socializing always came easy, only rarely did any event attended / ambience prove at all stressful. Thankfully, I had no idea that this comfortable mode of being was going to be taken away from me, unless by the grim reaper.

 

Yesterday morning I’d reduced my bed rest time from 12 to 8 ½ hours, as we were expecting delivery and erection of our summerhouse, which had originally been promised for the 8^th July, and ours was the delivery team’s first drop/job timed for an 08.00 - 10.00 am slot.

 

I was already feeling a sense of giddy light-headedness, and general nausea inducing discomfort, before the delivery team were due to arrive. When they arrived, at around 9.00am, I went out to make sure that they were going to position the doorway, and windows in the required direction. They wondered whether I wanted it positioning in such a way that one array of windows would be running parallel to, and approx 2’6” away from the back of our prefabricated garden shed. I quickly put that right but I was also informed that they would need to chop a significant branch from a tree behind the base that we had prepared, and which had been inspected and approved by someone from the supplying merchant who made no mention of this requirement. [Obviously the base was inspected for suitability without any attention being paid to any other environmental factors which may impede the erection of the aforementioned building!]

 

By this time, the frustration of circumstance seemed to exaggerate both the nausea and the crushing disorienting sense of light-headedness. I reluctantly gave them the go-ahead to dismember parts of the tree before ‘phoning my beloved at her place of work; having informed my OH of how crap I was feeling and warned her that I would soon be likely to turn the air blue, she said she’d pop back to deal with any problems that may arise. No sooner had I put the ‘phone down, and started a necessary/essential period of rest on the sofa, than one of the workmen tapped on the door. They had noticed both mould and a split in the back section of tanalized timber, rending it unfit for purpose. At this juncture I let loose a string of invective concerning the company that they were working for and, said that as far as I was concerned they could take it all away, refund our deposit and give us a couple of hundred quid compensation for all the inconvenience we’d been put through. I also suggested, somewhat more measuredly, that they may as well wait for my OH to arrive and see what she thought.

 

Having taken away all the components of the summerhouse at ma belle’s request, they said that they would get the supplier to ‘phone her at work to discuss compensation and re-arrange delivery and erection of a building ‘fit for purpose’!

 

It was only after the kerfuffle had passed that I fully realized just how shattered I was. The (supposedly good) weather recently, above average temperatures, sunshine and cloying humidity, always play havoc with an already erratic body thermostat. Not only had I been deprived of necessary bed rest but, I was also receiving a degree of ‘payback’ for some minimal over-exertion in terms of cooking, domestic chores, entertaining and dining out with our special friends, Peter & Pamela, who had traversed the Pennines in order to see us at the weekend.

 

As I suggested earlier, what once I would have taken in my stride would now appear to be the most foolhardy kind of adventuring! 

 

 

*************

 

I commented on Twitter yesterday:

 

 this time the outpouring
of expletive laden invective
fails to alleviate
the nausea inducing malaise
- otherwise I'm OK!  

apologia

Yet another afternoon spent in the garden, this time in the shade of a parasol beside the pond.

 A couple of weeks ago I’d never have dreamt

of making such a statement having undergone an extremely protracted

autumn and winter of cold and damp weather,

  the wet aspect being but a pale reflection of last summer’s weather.

 In the course of the last couple of weeks we’ve been blessed

 with many warm sunshiny days which inevitably

turned ones thoughts and footfall towards the garden.

 

The preceding paragraph, or words to similar effect,

 were to have been the opening of a web log posting a fortnight ago but,

much to my surprise, I’ve now been able to spend

 even more time in the garden although the weather has once again became more changeable.

I’m still not able to cope with very warm humid atmospheres;

 it’s largely been a matter of choosing the appropriate times and circumstance

 to venture out. I’ve been taking a few snapshots of aspects of the garden’s flora and fauna and,

undertaken some gardening chores

without exerting myself beyond reasonable self-imposed* “pacing” limits!

 

On many occasions, feeling a little guilty

about neglecting the blog, I’ve settled down beside an inert keyboard

with every intention of resuscitating it

but the necessary emotional stamina seems to have been

in extremely limited supply.

 

++++++

 

 

*more honestly “health-imposed” but one likes to feel, to some extent,

in charge of one’s own destiny.

 

 

 

JUVENILES - house sparrows and starlings

Just a few of the juvenile house sparrows and starlings at the feeders in our garden

On Time, Joys, and minor Tribulations

I’ve asked it before, and it’s equally puzzling now but, just where does all the time go? I’m not talking physics or metaphysics, but rather that constant source of bemusement - to yours truly - that hours, days, months and years all pass so swiftly that I’m unable to find the time to even get started on any of the multiple tasks or projects I’ve been considering.

 

I deem myself very fortunate that I can still manage to appreciate, with an almost constant sense of wonder, that there is something rather than nothing; I still feel quite awestruck when I gaze at the panoply of stars in the night sky and contemplate the vast distances and time through which these illuminations occur. I am always amazed by the sheer variety of flora and fauna even within the constraints of our back garden.

 

It was wonderful to experience a few days of sunshine, and reasonable warmth, after the somewhat protracted spell of wintry weather; I even managed to do a little pottering about in the garden and extracted, with the aid of a PondVac, some of the aromatic mud deposit from the garden pond.

 

I also enjoyed sitting  and relaxing outdoors observing the avian activity. On one afternoon, having just watched a Red Kite gracefully riding the thermals above our garden, I noticed a few Redpolls visiting the Nyjer seed feeder – a first for our garden!

 

 

 

Last Thursday morning I attended the dermatology unit at Harrogate District Hospital for some minor surgery and, after several hold-ups en route, it was wonderful to get into the surgery on time. The whole procedure, preparation for and excision of a basal cell carcinoma from my chest (up towards the shoulder) and a biopsy sample taken from a lesion on my leg, took around forty-five minutes.

 

Unlike the time a carcinoma was excised from my back, when the dressing was kept in situ for several days and the stitches removed after 14 days, on this occasion I was told to remove the dressing after twenty-four hours and the ten external stitches to be removed after 10 days but, the one stitch on my lower limb is not be removed until 14 days have passed. I have to treat the wound two or three times a day with soft yellow paraffin which tends to adhere to my shirt or pyjama jacket. They also provided spare dressings for the small leg wound which is also protected by a tubular bandage from toes to knee.

 

I must admit that the chest/shoulder wound still feels somewhat tender and I’m having to be careful that I don’t stretch to reach anything with my left arm. Apart from that, I’m pretty well my usual frequently shattered self.

remembering Maggie - her legacy lingers on - poetry

 

ConDem Nation

 

 

 

First we eliminate

all job security -

ensure

 

all contracts

can be terminated

on a whim.

 

 

Knowing

that work makes free

we guarantee

 

the long term unemployed

will do these jobs

unpaid

 

 

 

Malcolm Evison

7 November 2010

 

 

 

MAMMON

(creator of social divisiveness)

 

 

Behold the god of lies

taker of lives

maker and breaker

 

of dreams -

creator god

who captivates

 

the mind -

spins webs

of treachery

 

replaces hope

with greed

installs himself

 

in all the highest places

proudly proclaims

there is no god but me

 

and we

fall for the party line.

 

 

 

 

Malcolm Evison

2 May 2010

 

 

 

  DOLEFUL BLUES

  (Just One Of Maggie’s Victims)

 

 

He seeks and fails to find

the semblance of

his once bright hope.

 

The family sleeps, he lies

awake, perhaps

a few untruths could make

 

an honest man of him.

Purveyor of unwanted skills,

he sifts through all

 

the cut-price vacancies –

prepares to swallow principle

as well as pride.

 

 

  Malcolm Evison

  14 July 1987

... and the usual suspects

Things seemed much brighter, as I benefitted from the cumulative effect of two acupuncture sessions in relatively close proximity, but these gains in terms of stamina level and lower levels of pain weren’t destined to endure.

 

 A bout of toothache, responding to touch and vibration of a toothbrush but not to either heat or cold, quickly faded only to return a couple of weeks later. The return was certainly with a vengeance as the ache extended through my jaw right up to the chin. An emergency appointment with the dentist led to one extraction and a course of antibiotics for a deep rooted infection. Whereas at one time I would have taken these things in my stride the effect has not been to dissimilar to that of a ‘Mickey Finn’.

 

So, Friday afternoon found me in the dentist chair and Wednesday saw me take the final dose of amoxicillin. On Tuesday morning I had to emerge from the duvet lair long before my usual hour of bravely facing the (fairly) new day; my appointment had finally come around at the Dermatology and Lesions clinic. The clinician confirmed the basal cell carcinoma on my chest and suspects that the lesion on my leg is Bowens so, within the next few weeks I’ll be having the bcc excised and a biopsy taken of the suspected Bowens.

 

All in all, these events have left me feeling a little more shattered than is my norm but, at least I’ve been able to enjoy a few rare glimpses of sunshine in the garden as I watch the birds devour whatever treats we’ve placed at the sundry feeding stations.     

from the frontline

Sometimes it’s difficult, if not impossible, to describe the exhausting ache of self-questioning, veering towards a sense of guilt for being ill and hence, a burden or embarrassment to those who you really care about. I must be honest that even this preludium to a post doesn’t really express the underlying frustration that prompts it; at root, the knowledge that even the best of days carries a stamina rating of perhaps 20 - 30% of my pre-illness norm.

 

What I was really wanting to say is that the relative paucity of postings, arising from a desire to communicate (with and for whom I know not), bears little distinct correlation to my present levels of pain, discomfort, joy or plain normality. There are times when I wish to write but simply lack the necessary energy to place the written words in any meaningful order; at other times I am positively glowing with the enjoyment of spending time with my beloved, excited by the variety of avian visitors to our sundry garden feeding stations, or even the refreshing joy of a brief brisk venture out into the bracing air, can fill me with such glorious images which, were I to write them down, would sound like an overblown description of some utopian paradise.

 

An evening cocktail of tramadol and amitriptylene tends to curb the night pains, even though sleep is invariably of a restlessly intermittent unrefreshing variety. In the morning I continue to take a low dose of sertraline which seems to control the reactive depression which this disease can so frequently carry in it’s wake. Currently I am also taking mebeverine (3 x daily) and lansoprazole (2 x daily) in an attempt to ease my IBS and gastro-oesophageal reflux problems.

 

I am extremely fortunate to experience a fair number of days where pains and muscular spasms are quite simply a faint background hum, futilely struggling against my enjoyment of the day. Unfortunately, at night, as my body strives for rest the fitful pattern of sleep leaves one more vulnerable to these pernicious nauseating pains and spasms.

 

This afternoon, my far too familiar nausea-inducing nagging pains, emanating from the armpit and apparently gnawing through bone and muscle down through biceps to wrist, vengefully returned. A combination of painkillers and splint type wrist supports eventually alleviated this as I rested on the sofa. And so I come to post this, in the hope that at least some of my words convey their intended meaning.

 

Communique ends.