- living and frequently struggling with moderate M.E. -
where (bad) health, faith, politics and the joys and troubles of daily life collide.
ME
Friday, April 27, 2007
Monday, April 23, 2007
Outpacing Myself?
Why should I feel a sense of failure when I resort to pain-killers once more? I don’t know that there is an answer to that question but, I’ve always been reluctant to consume these items.
I’ve never particularly liked cocktails comprising paracetamol, codeine phosphate, ibuprofen etc and, it’s with the greatest reluctance that (as a result of the renewed cyclical dance of nagging pains in wrists, elbows, hips, knees) I had to admit positive thinking is not enough in and of itself.
Perhaps the lack of acupuncture sessions, my last two appointments having to be cancelled, has contributed to my present dis-eased state of being, or maybe my positive outlook has led recently to my overdoing things.
The problem is, I always feel that I have my ‘pacing’ under control and, attempt to finish, or at least draw to a temporary halt, any task I undertake whilst I still have a little energy in reserve.
Unfortunately, the shattered-ness only appears after many hours (even days) delay.
Why should I feel a sense of failure when I have to resort to painkillers? A simple answer could be my failure to fully appreciate how little exertion my body can cope with, no matter how much rest it takes!
I’ve never particularly liked cocktails comprising paracetamol, codeine phosphate, ibuprofen etc and, it’s with the greatest reluctance that (as a result of the renewed cyclical dance of nagging pains in wrists, elbows, hips, knees) I had to admit positive thinking is not enough in and of itself.
Perhaps the lack of acupuncture sessions, my last two appointments having to be cancelled, has contributed to my present dis-eased state of being, or maybe my positive outlook has led recently to my overdoing things.
The problem is, I always feel that I have my ‘pacing’ under control and, attempt to finish, or at least draw to a temporary halt, any task I undertake whilst I still have a little energy in reserve.
Unfortunately, the shattered-ness only appears after many hours (even days) delay.
Why should I feel a sense of failure when I have to resort to painkillers? A simple answer could be my failure to fully appreciate how little exertion my body can cope with, no matter how much rest it takes!
Monday, April 16, 2007
Idling Along
The mouse finger’s growing tired, slip sliding through various websites, occasionally allowing me to peruse the content of the page it stumbles upon. An adventure without purpose, an aimless search through all the wonders the web has to offer but, I’m still awaiting the return of the necessary powers of concentration to give my searching some kind of focus. If only this aimlessness was my purpose, I would now be the victor; sadly there seem to be a paucity of rewards on offer for such unwitting purposelessness!
The rewards are much greater when I idle my time away sat on the bench beside the garden pond, observing the frenetic activity of sundry insects amongst the pebbles, hovering over the pond and rockery and, generally engaging in the necessary tasks for their survival. The clarity of the pond water is quite remarkable, a reward for the earlier application of barley straw extract and Sludge Buster. Despite the timidity of the ponds piscine inhabitants, they still eagerly surface on my first visit of the day in anticipation of their feed yet, at other times, they dart for cover at the merest hint of a shadow cast upon the water.
All too frequently, I become distracted by the thought of necessary gardening tasks and, despite the exercise of admirable restraint, yield to their beckoning. Although I enjoy pottering about, and sometimes getting my hands dirty, it’s still far too easy to overdo it. At times, I think it would be much better if exhaustion displayed itself as a preventative, rather than in its excruciatingly numbing delayed post-exertional manifestation.
All that being said, I still find it easy to enjoy life, although any socializing activity is strictly rationed; I love sharing my life with
For all that life has given me I give thanks, and rejoice in this day the Lord has made.
Monday, April 09, 2007
Aftermath
Every action seems to have its cost, albeit far from predictable. Recent weekends away proved most beneficial in their demonstration that, after several years when such a venture was beyond even the least consideration, I really was improving in the health stakes.
Although something like two-thirds of my time away was spent resting, more from necessity than choice, on each occasion the return home found me running on adrenalin, as I set to necessary tasks in house and garden. Recent bright days drew me into the garden once more, just a bit of light pottering about, but it didn’t take long to realize that my “pacing” had gone somewhat awry!
There’s something gnawingly frustrating about that sensation, when the usual aches and pains, merge into an all encompassing blanket of exhaustion; a kind of leaden hollowness, underpinned by spasmodically searing twinges, somehow blanks out the least residual remnant of ones power of concentration.
Suddenly, in the midst of typing this reason for the paucity of recent blog postings, I’m transfixed by the liquid alto trilling of a blackbird on the garden shed; that simple call eradicates any risk of drifting into self-pity. Quite frequently I feel that there is no need to venture any further than the boundaries of our garden. Sitting on the bench beside the pond, watching the goldfish devour the foodsticks, whilst on the neighbouring rockery the peacock butterflies, and honey bees, are drawn to the heathers, a sense of contentment floods my being. Contentedly fatigued, that phrase just about captures the present state of play.
What I was going to say, before this gentle interruption, was that recent days have found me unable to concentrate sufficiently to check my e-mail boxes and, my normally regular swift surfing of news websites has been honoured more in the breach than by its observance. A blank ‘Word’ page proves far too daunting, the prospect of painting it in words too challenging a task, but I will be back!
In life and love and friendship, I feel truly blessed.
**************************
This post also appears on 'Mal's Murmurings' and 'Hirsute Antiquity'
Although something like two-thirds of my time away was spent resting, more from necessity than choice, on each occasion the return home found me running on adrenalin, as I set to necessary tasks in house and garden. Recent bright days drew me into the garden once more, just a bit of light pottering about, but it didn’t take long to realize that my “pacing” had gone somewhat awry!
There’s something gnawingly frustrating about that sensation, when the usual aches and pains, merge into an all encompassing blanket of exhaustion; a kind of leaden hollowness, underpinned by spasmodically searing twinges, somehow blanks out the least residual remnant of ones power of concentration.
Suddenly, in the midst of typing this reason for the paucity of recent blog postings, I’m transfixed by the liquid alto trilling of a blackbird on the garden shed; that simple call eradicates any risk of drifting into self-pity. Quite frequently I feel that there is no need to venture any further than the boundaries of our garden. Sitting on the bench beside the pond, watching the goldfish devour the foodsticks, whilst on the neighbouring rockery the peacock butterflies, and honey bees, are drawn to the heathers, a sense of contentment floods my being. Contentedly fatigued, that phrase just about captures the present state of play.
What I was going to say, before this gentle interruption, was that recent days have found me unable to concentrate sufficiently to check my e-mail boxes and, my normally regular swift surfing of news websites has been honoured more in the breach than by its observance. A blank ‘Word’ page proves far too daunting, the prospect of painting it in words too challenging a task, but I will be back!
In life and love and friendship, I feel truly blessed.
**************************
This post also appears on 'Mal's Murmurings' and 'Hirsute Antiquity'
Sunday, April 08, 2007
The Day of Resurrection
Jesus died as a victim of Imperial Occupation and Piety - the resurrection symbolizes overcoming oppression and injustice
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Malcolm's Travellers Tale
Once again, I've managed a weekend away and apart from a generalized fatigue and the usual aches I'm here to tell the tale!
24th March 2007
As we journey westwards, the day brightens and, once again I’m enraptured by the beauty on our doorstep as we traverse the dales and moorland. As we enter Lancashire, the roadside welcome sign is subtitled “Where Everyone Is Welcome”; I find myself wondering whether our return journey will witness a sign reading “Where No One Cares” as we re-enter God’s own county. The journey goes smoothly and, neither myself nor ma belle chauffeuse feel too exhausted by the effort.
Having signed in at the Travel Inn, my first impulse is to go and have a lie-down on the bed. After a brief rest, we look out of the window and see our friends Peter & Pamela have arrived at the nearby bar so, duty calls us to venture across and share a few glasses of vino before deciding on our evening meal. The conversation flows quite fluidly, after all, we’ve got a couple of years to catch up on since our previous meeting. That’s the beautiful thing about friendship, it’s almost as if the conversation continues from just the day before; an understanding of each others humour and situation makes things so much easier. Pamela and I are the experienced old crocks, Pamela having been a wheelchair user for many years now, although the image in my mind of her racing up fellsides, Peter and I breathlessly following, still seems fresh.
I’ve known the two P’s since university days and, Peter was best man when I married Helen seven brief years ago. Much as travelling disagrees with me, meeting up with old friends makes it most worthwhile. By the time we’ve had our meal, Pamela shows obvious signs of flagging so, we bid our adieus and, it’s not that much later when fatigue takes over for Helen and myself so, an early night is called for.
25th March 2007
To my surprise, we managed to make it down for breakfast in good time but, those old weary blues caught up with me by the time we’d ventured back to our room. A further lie down was called for and, this accounted for the rest of the morning (and early afternoon). By 2.00PM we were ready to head off to Peter & Pamela’s abode and, it wasn’t long before we ventured across to their wine cellar to select a bottle of bubbly. Conversation found its own direction and, we chatted about their Australian holiday as we looked at a few of the copious quantity of photos taken on that occasion as well as venturing down memory lane. For our meal we enjoyed one of Peter’s celebrated kipper and egg kedgerees accompanied by one of Tony Laithwaite’s Chilean Sauvignons. I declined the dessert, which the other three managed to demolish without my participation.
We arrived back at the hotel by 9.00PM, switched on the telly to watch what turned out to be a Jane Austen travesty, switched off the telly after about twenty minutes of this abhorrence and, decided it was time for an early night.
26th March 2007
Once more, this time slightly more of a struggle, made it down in time for breakfast then ventured back to the room where the need for rest was instantly apparent. I duly settled on the bed for forty winks but, when the staff came round to clean the room around 11.00AM I was sound asleep. Emerged from my slumbers at 11.30AM and we went out to sit and have a coffee on the benches outside of the bar whilst the necessary tasks were fulfilled by room service. Back to the room for a bit more rest and, I was just about alert by our friends arrived to direct us to their local, ‘The Hest Bank’. This proved a great opportunity to meet their friends, from Geriatrics Corner, much feted by both Peter and Pamela in their respective blogs. The most difficult decision for me to make, on this occasion, was that between ‘Black Sheep’, ‘Timothy Taylor’s Landlord’ or ‘Caledonian’. A couple of pints of ‘Black Sheep’ sufficed for me before we perused the menu. After an enjoyable meal, it was once more time to bid our farewells, an early night once more being a necessary part of our agenda.
24th March 2007
As we journey westwards, the day brightens and, once again I’m enraptured by the beauty on our doorstep as we traverse the dales and moorland. As we enter Lancashire, the roadside welcome sign is subtitled “Where Everyone Is Welcome”; I find myself wondering whether our return journey will witness a sign reading “Where No One Cares” as we re-enter God’s own county. The journey goes smoothly and, neither myself nor ma belle chauffeuse feel too exhausted by the effort.
Having signed in at the Travel Inn, my first impulse is to go and have a lie-down on the bed. After a brief rest, we look out of the window and see our friends Peter & Pamela have arrived at the nearby bar so, duty calls us to venture across and share a few glasses of vino before deciding on our evening meal. The conversation flows quite fluidly, after all, we’ve got a couple of years to catch up on since our previous meeting. That’s the beautiful thing about friendship, it’s almost as if the conversation continues from just the day before; an understanding of each others humour and situation makes things so much easier. Pamela and I are the experienced old crocks, Pamela having been a wheelchair user for many years now, although the image in my mind of her racing up fellsides, Peter and I breathlessly following, still seems fresh.
I’ve known the two P’s since university days and, Peter was best man when I married Helen seven brief years ago. Much as travelling disagrees with me, meeting up with old friends makes it most worthwhile. By the time we’ve had our meal, Pamela shows obvious signs of flagging so, we bid our adieus and, it’s not that much later when fatigue takes over for Helen and myself so, an early night is called for.
25th March 2007
To my surprise, we managed to make it down for breakfast in good time but, those old weary blues caught up with me by the time we’d ventured back to our room. A further lie down was called for and, this accounted for the rest of the morning (and early afternoon). By 2.00PM we were ready to head off to Peter & Pamela’s abode and, it wasn’t long before we ventured across to their wine cellar to select a bottle of bubbly. Conversation found its own direction and, we chatted about their Australian holiday as we looked at a few of the copious quantity of photos taken on that occasion as well as venturing down memory lane. For our meal we enjoyed one of Peter’s celebrated kipper and egg kedgerees accompanied by one of Tony Laithwaite’s Chilean Sauvignons. I declined the dessert, which the other three managed to demolish without my participation.
We arrived back at the hotel by 9.00PM, switched on the telly to watch what turned out to be a Jane Austen travesty, switched off the telly after about twenty minutes of this abhorrence and, decided it was time for an early night.
26th March 2007
Once more, this time slightly more of a struggle, made it down in time for breakfast then ventured back to the room where the need for rest was instantly apparent. I duly settled on the bed for forty winks but, when the staff came round to clean the room around 11.00AM I was sound asleep. Emerged from my slumbers at 11.30AM and we went out to sit and have a coffee on the benches outside of the bar whilst the necessary tasks were fulfilled by room service. Back to the room for a bit more rest and, I was just about alert by our friends arrived to direct us to their local, ‘The Hest Bank’. This proved a great opportunity to meet their friends, from Geriatrics Corner, much feted by both Peter and Pamela in their respective blogs. The most difficult decision for me to make, on this occasion, was that between ‘Black Sheep’, ‘Timothy Taylor’s Landlord’ or ‘Caledonian’. A couple of pints of ‘Black Sheep’ sufficed for me before we perused the menu. After an enjoyable meal, it was once more time to bid our farewells, an early night once more being a necessary part of our agenda.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
more on 'mal's murmurings'
Yesterday's posting, FROM UNPREDICTABILITY TO AFFIRMATION, can be found on MAL's MURMURINGS.
Saturday, March 17, 2007
Showers Of Blessing
Oh, the joy, the ecstasy! Who would have thought a piece of moulded plastic, with extendable parts, could be the source of so much pleasure. When my wife purchased it, she thought only of its utilitarian value; in no way could she have imagined the highs produced by this simple device. And the beauty of it is, no batteries required but, such pleasurable moistening!
Needless to say, the device could only be obtained from a shop specializing in such appliances. Where would we be without these specialist outlets?
For more months than I care to remember, a visit to the shower room was fraught with danger. If my beloved wasn’t around, there was no chance of me risking the experience; a sense of aching dis-equilibrium, of imminent collapse, made me fearful of stepping into the shower unattended. For far too long, my stubbornness resisted the beloved’s suggestion that some bath or shower aids would help. Personal hygiene was something reluctantly attended to. No matter how long the preceding period of bed-rest, by the time I’d showered and towelled I was so shattered that a further hours rest was called for before I could even consider the exertion required to clothe myself. Rather than being a refreshing experience, the effort involved ensured it was an extremely enervating one.
There are still many occasions when I seem to lack the necessary stamina to get into the shower-bath and, I’m ashamed to admit that showering is not a daily occurrence. Once in the shower though, the stable plastic seat has made a world of difference and, I revel in the warm soft needles of H2O as they caress and soothe my aching muscles.
These days, I can accomplish so much more than seemed possible even a few months ago and, for that I give thanks. I rejoice in the showers of blessing which make life so rich and wonderful. In everything give thanks.
Needless to say, the device could only be obtained from a shop specializing in such appliances. Where would we be without these specialist outlets?
For more months than I care to remember, a visit to the shower room was fraught with danger. If my beloved wasn’t around, there was no chance of me risking the experience; a sense of aching dis-equilibrium, of imminent collapse, made me fearful of stepping into the shower unattended. For far too long, my stubbornness resisted the beloved’s suggestion that some bath or shower aids would help. Personal hygiene was something reluctantly attended to. No matter how long the preceding period of bed-rest, by the time I’d showered and towelled I was so shattered that a further hours rest was called for before I could even consider the exertion required to clothe myself. Rather than being a refreshing experience, the effort involved ensured it was an extremely enervating one.
There are still many occasions when I seem to lack the necessary stamina to get into the shower-bath and, I’m ashamed to admit that showering is not a daily occurrence. Once in the shower though, the stable plastic seat has made a world of difference and, I revel in the warm soft needles of H2O as they caress and soothe my aching muscles.
These days, I can accomplish so much more than seemed possible even a few months ago and, for that I give thanks. I rejoice in the showers of blessing which make life so rich and wonderful. In everything give thanks.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Two watercolours on Garbled Noise
TWO WATERCOLOURS, by yours truly, have been posted on GARBLED NOISE
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