tidings of discomfort and joy

The gaps between postings seem to be increasing; don’t know why I tell you that, presumably you’d already noticed. Sundry muscular aches and pains almost got the better of me during recent weeks, not so much the intensity of pain (barely halfway up the scale) but rather a disconcerting all pervasive sense of dis-ease. At present it feels as if a generalized discomfort proves more disabling than spasmodic acutely intense pain.

The question constantly arises whether codeine, tramadol or any general painkiller can tackle these dull persistently nagging aches. On occasion simply putting on wrist, elbow and shoulder supports seems to alleviate all but a background purring nausea, at others only the combination of pills and  strappings seem to do the trick.

It’s strange that some nights, following on from a more comfortable day, the discomfort only begins its nagging and gnawing routine when I attempt to settle down to sleep; brief interludes of dream laden sleep interrupt my sadly familiar restlessness. At times I could swear that the amitriptyline is working as a stimulant rather than benefitting me with its supposed gently sedative properties.

For the past several nights I’ve pre-emptively dosed myself with tramadol before retiring au lit but, I’ll never know whether it’s the medications efficacy that grants me a more comfortable (albeit still unrefreshing) night’s rest, or have these nights just happened to be ones that were destined to be more comfortable anyway.

At its worst the discomfort is such that I become nauseatingly ill at ease inside my own skin ….

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I’m now beginning to see a reason for not posting; all the preceding spilt out as if I’m having a miserable life whereas in fact I continue to feel rather blessed.

My love for ma belle grows ever deeper and, what’s more, that love is reciprocated. The assurance that one is loved somehow overwhelms life’s more negative aspects, simultaneously building one’s reserves of emotional stamina in readiness for the ongoing struggle for justice and compassion for all.

Having always been of a somewhat gregarious disposition I still, not infrequently, find myself mourning the loss of the ability to socialize (other than on the most modestly minimal scale) but still feel fortunate that I can enjoy all kinds of music and drama via television, radio, and sundry recorded formats. It’s strange the way that sudden unexpected sounds can serve to shatter my nerves, almost crushing the breath out of me, whilst dramatic transitions in a musical score never (or perhaps very rarely) seem to play such a disruptive role.

The garden too is a source of constant delight and refreshment, even when it’s getting a bit out of hand, and the avian activity (viewed from the comfort of a supportive high-backed armchair) is a constant source of pleasure.

Come to think of it, perhaps the reason I’m not posting so regularly is that I’m far too busy appreciating life!

A Traveller's Tale

 As the names Sheffield & Leeds appeared on the motorway signs I felt able to breathe freely once more. There really is no other place on earth quite like God’s own county and, having just travelled up from deepest Hertfordshire, the thought of soon being able to set foot once again on Yorkshire’s sacred ground proved truly heart-warming! To be totally honest, the ‘heart-warming’ was probably in response to the prospect of arriving home on the third day. Although born a “man of Kent”, and having inhabited points North, South, East & West of England, I am proud to be a Northerner and born-again Yorkshire man.

Our outbound journey, on Thursday, was not without its little hiccups as (what should have been) a three and a half hour journey turned into a more tortuous five hours of intermittent frustration. I’m not a good traveller at the best of times and this was most certainly not the best!

We received a most friendly welcome when we finally arrived at the Red Lion Hotel, in Radlett. The purpose of our venture southwards was to attend the wedding of one of Helen’s nieces; the wedding service was being held at St Paul’s Church in St Albans and the reception at Shenley Cricket Centre, the Church approximately seven miles and the reception venue just over one mile from the hotel we’d booked into.

The meal we had in the hotel’s restaurant was really excellent, at the time I thought it almost made the journey worthwhile. A most obliging waitress came back with the recipe for the sauce served with our main course as I’d been so enthusiastic about it and, she also printed out the route to be taken from the hotel to St Pauls.

After a most restless night, I managed to make it down for breakfast even though sundry muscular and joint pains had begun to kick in. The rest of the morning was spent lying down, attempting to get some rest before we set off for the wedding. Come the time we were due for departure to St Albans I knew there was no way I’d be able to cope with neither the journey to nor the ceremony itself.

My attempts to rest and relax whilst ma belle had headed off to the wedding were thwarted by the blaring/beeping of car horns (by the aggressive southern motorists as they approached the mini-roundabout in close proximity to the hotel). By this time a pounding headache and a disorientating spinning sensation, closely akin to that experienced when I suffered with labyrinthitis, joined the by now familiar aches and pains searing through my limbs whilst the ribcage was feeling rather bruised.

I should add that by this time I’d begun to be overwhelmed by a sense of despairing self-pity, after all this same Friday was also my birthday and here I was in an alien land feeling quite alone and desolate. When my beloved returned from the wedding service I reluctantly agreed to take a taxi to the reception. That decision proved totally disastrous as I was unable to cope with the babble of conversation and (joyous?) laughter – a total sensory overload. Within fifteen minutes we were in a taxi back to the hotel.

Later in the evening I felt almost ready to eat so, Helen and I ventured down through the bar to the restaurant only to be informed that the restaurant was closed (due to the extra bar business where the televised soccer seemed to be a major attraction and shortage of staff). I muttered to ma belle, “typical, it’s just not my f…ing day; it’s the most f…ing wretched birthday I’ve ever experienced, a bloody nightmare”.

Suddenly a degree of sanity overwhelmed me; I went to the Hotel Reception Desk to make an official complaint that we, as paying guests, had not been informed that the restaurant would be closed on a Friday evening. A few minutes later we were taken to the restaurant where a waitress took our order and the chef came to check whether and when we needed anything. This is what I consider service beyond the call of duty. I’d mentioned to the waitress that part of the reason I couldn’t cope with the noisy environment (of the bar) was because of my moderate M.E. As we finished our desserts the waitress volunteered that we could exit the restaurant via the kitchen, thus avoiding the bustling activity of the bar.

Although I didn’t manage to attend either the ceremony or the reception, for which we’d made the journey down, it was a delight to experience such real hospitality proffered by the Red Lion, Radlett, Herts.

Our return journey, on Saturday morning, passed without a hitch – the exact reverse of the route we’d intended to take on the outward journey – and we reached home in just three and a quarter hours. Recuperation from the adventure may take quite some time but, it’s slightly easier to cope with sundry ailments when at home in familiar territory.

just as I am - and do not wish to be

Tuesday morning I removed myself from the duvet lair bright and early, feeling unusually alert and refreshed. It was only later in the day that I started to suffer for this foolhardiness, as I became a totally shattered wreck, and I’m still struggling – four and a half days later - to regain my usual familiarly limited reserves of stamina.

Headaches, giddiness, muscular pains and spasms, tenderness in armpits and under the chin, a bruised feeling around the ribcage alongside a sore throat and roof of the mouth, such have been the rewards for my carelessness.

To be perfectly honest, I suspect the ‘early morning’ was simply the carelessly thrown match landing on a tinder pile which would have self-combusted sooner or later.

Another bout of perspiration, suddenly oozing from forehead, chest and arms, seems to prefigure a renewed surge of shattered exhaustion. Frustration swiftly follows as I teeter on the brink of despair, feebly yielding to a flow of tears; a plenitude of gnawing aches destroys any semblance of composure.

Whatever Happens - (or A Customer Dis-service)

Whatever Happens don’t expect a reasonable service. Early this morning I had occasion to contact PC World’s ‘Whatever Happens’ service as a Packard Bell desktop, purchased less than two years ago (from PC World) and covered by a three year “Whatever Happens” warranty, had gone dead.

On ringing the necessary number on this 24/7 service, and having pushed sundry  buttons on the telephone in an attempt to follow the commands issued by a disembodied telephonic voice, I eventually got through to a real life voice. At this point I was urged to disconnect all leads from the non-functioning PC and press the power switch on whilst repeatedly tapping F8. Not even a beep was heard as I could have told him; no BIOS – no anything.

This wonderful service promises an engineer on the next working day but, according to the technician, that no longer applies as there were too many call outs and the engineer didn’t necessarily have the right components. Why they didn’t have the right components is something of a mystery as they have full knowledge of the machine model which they’re going to be servicing!

Next, he told me that they would collect it tomorrow but was unable to give me a time. Evidently it is the customer’s responsibility to go online after 9.00pm to get a rough idea of when they will be calling. Service obviously isn’t their concern whatever happens. Even the phone call (some 40 odd minutes duration I think)to an 0844 number, is at the customer’s expense and, the PC base unit will be away for a full week. So much for a next day service!

Whatever happens, remember their warranties are subject to change without informing the customer.

 Don’t expect good service – WHATEVER HAPPENS! That way you’ll not be disappointed.

paucity of posts

sometimes I manage, and even enjoy, a bit of socializing - at others I struggle - things aren't too bad at the moment but I just don't seem to have the right kind of stamina to get down to any writing, hence the paucity of blog posts. Meantime I have posted a few more piccies on 'Mal's Picturebox'

wallowing

crash

just when I seemed to be bearing up well, a sudden shatteredness occurred - intermittently extreme discomfort in limbs & torso, aching eyes and ears, together with ultra touch sensitive back & shoulders - fatigue is the least of my worries!

an eventful time

Wow! What a week of varying fortunes; a visit (hopefully) to see the out of hours doctor led to a referral to A&E and a subsequent overnight stay at the hospital.

During the day on Sunday, a bruisedly crushing sensation across the chest, radiating from proximity of the sternum, coincided with shooting pains in my left arm. The latter coincidence was the real worry factor as I’d earlier put the cause of the chest pains down to indigestion.

The main problem is that I frequently experience shooting pains in the arm but rarely, if ever, have they coincided with chest pains. Early evening the chest pains returned, more painfully crushing and making it difficult to catch my breath, whilst simultaneously I suddenly felt cold (as the sun poured in through the window); it was almost as if I could feel the blood draining from my face and extremities. I felt totally achingly light-headed.

I knew that if I ‘phoned the “out of hours” doctor, as soon as my age and chest pains were mentioned, they’d be suggesting an ambulance. A short while later I headed down to the hospital, with ma belle chauffeuse, and the rest is history.

Having taken an ECG and a few phials of blood, I was duly informed that they would be admitting me overnight, for monitoring, and a further blood test would need to be taken twelve hours after the last bout of pain. The second lot of blood was taken at around 5.30am when I was informed that the consultant wanted me to have a chest X-Ray. I was wheeled down to the X-Ray department shortly before 1.00pm and, as all the tests proved negative, discharged when ma belle came to collect me at 1.40pm. I must say that the lunch I had on the ward, in contrast to my previous hospital stay, was really good, roast turkey with mashed and new potatoes, stuffing, beans and swede.

**********

Tuesday was ma belle’s Birthday and Cathy (my younger step-daughter) treated us, together with Ken (her partner) and Beth (my elder step-daughter), to an early evening meal at Luigi’s. Much to my surprise, having had a restful couple of days, I was on sparkling form (as the long lost demon once more found his rightful place on my shoulder).

Wednesday evening we had an “at home”, a further celebration of Helen’s birthday, when people called in any time from 6.00pm to around 11.00pm. Apart from a little socializing, videoing & snapping the event, I also allocated myself the function of wine glass filler & head washer up. I almost managed to overlook my familiar aches & pains midst all the distractions.

Much rest became the overarching theme of subsequent days but, I’m here and enjoying the company of my beloved as always.

Woes and Gratitude

It’s becoming increasingly difficult not to sound like a moaning wimp. It isn’t that I feel much worse than has become my familiar norm and, I’ve frequently experienced more excruciating aches and pains than at present, but it’s an overall sense of feeling ‘off-colour’ that nags and gnaws at me for at least half of my waking hours.

It’s almost impossible to get used to those times when one suddenly experiences a cloying, gut-wrenching, nauseating giddiness, and sudden change from warm to cold skin as the colour can almost be felt draining away from ones face. Sometimes the overall sense of queasiness persists for only a few minutes, before the healthier glow returns, at other times the period of dis-ease is much more prolonged.

The spastic colon & diverticular disease randomly asserts itself, with little regard to whether I’ve maintained a regular dose of anti-spasmodic pills (mebeverine) but, fortunately the ppi’s (lansoprazole) function reasonably well in curbing the worst excesses of gastro-oesophageal reflux (although there are some days when, come bedtime, I still require a dose of antacids.

On a positive note, I’ve suddenly realized that up to this point no mention has been made of the painful aches in the upper limbs (not infrequently emanating from the armpit) as these are currently adequately controlled by doses of tramadol. So, I conclude on a note of gratitude once again; if only the flow of thanksgiving could overwhelm the woes that flesh is heir to!

ME - my body - a little moderation

Reduced my hours ensconced in the duvet lair to the usual twelve (last PM – this AM) but, as is far too common, I didn’t feel much refreshed as I emerged into the mid-morning grey. Muzzy head, sore throat and lower limbs feeling rubbery leaden, I didn’t even contemplate venturing as far as Open Church this morning, so I restricted my exercise to a faltering stroll to the local bakery to collect our wholemeal loaf.

Once I’d decided on the bakery goal, I popped a fully stamped up Café Culture loyalty card in my pocket, to claim a free drink on my way back to the house; such was my clarity of thought and intention that I walked straight past the Café on both outward and return journeys, forgetting to claim myself a treat!

The hours hung most heavily by mid-afternoon as I drifted into a somewhat discomforting intermittent nap; an hour spent in this condition felt like an eternity of awakened drudgery. At this point my old familiar pains in upper limbs, from armpit to wrist, kicked in once again but were alleviated reasonably quickly with 100mg of tramadol.

Overall though, I can’t complain as I’ve frequently had much worse days than this and, I remain grateful that I’m only a moderate sufferer.