you'd hardly believe it ...

www.stash-the-cash.com - it's well worth a visit!

the young visitor

this young sparrowhawk stopped by, Sunday lunchtime, for a rest on our summerhouse!

minor travel major travail

Just where is that emotional stamina hiding; come to that, it would be useful if I could uncover a resource for topping up my rather limited levels of the physical variety. After a short trip across the Pennines, about which more later, even my already constrained ability to concentrate on any sustained reading has gone into abeyance. At least I’m hoping it will return! No matter how much I enjoy looking out onto the garden, the heavily overcast and frequent rain-sodden days do little for one’s morale.

 

After a morning of extremely vividly disconcerting dreams, I finally felt sufficiently alert to remove myself from the bedclothes at around 11.15am, thirteen hours after availing myself of their embrace. As my beloved doesn’t go to her place of employment on a Wednesday it made the rest of the day more bearable. By about 4.30pm I felt it necessary to rest my eyes, at which point ma belle enquired whether I needed to lay myself down on the sofa. At the time it didn’t really seem at all necessary but, within half-an-hour my legs began to suffer a dull throbbing ache, feeling as if they’d been waterlogged.

 

Finally I had to admit my OH was right and, I really did need to lie down; no sooner had I reclined, in supine posture, than my wrists began their far too familiar nagging ache requiring a swift application of splint supports. Just another ordinary day!

 

                                                  ***

 

Now comes the report on that trans-Pennine journey, although, in terms of mileage, it was a short drive, to me the outward journey seemed a far too protracted arduous nightmare. Spastic colon, and acute diverticular discomfort set the tone of the adventure; within the parameters of a 70 mile route, I most urgently required a loo break on three occasions, the first of which required a diversion from the route we were travelling.

 

The SatNav redirected us, via the Old Skipton Road, across desolate sodden moorland. This route didn’t help at all as a kind of agoraphobic panic attack overwhelmed that attention which had previously focussed on my painfully aching abdomen. When we eventually arrived at the hostelry where we’d be spending the night, it was encouraging to see they had at least four draught ales on offer. As we approached our upstairs accommodation the heat in the hallway proved overwhelming, as was that which greeted us in the room.

 

That evening we attended a wedding party, the purpose of our visit, at a nearby Jacobean venue. On arriving at the venue, I managed ( whilst leaving the badly lit car parking space) to trip on a protruding step as ma belle and I sought the relevant hall entrance. The entrance was attained via an ill lit awning tent and, once again I tripped as my foot fell from the edge of the footway.

Not a good start; since my days as a union steward I’ve been well aware of health and safety issues, and the ill lit irregular causeway would certainly have been a major concern. As I’m prone to giddiness, and an associated fear of falling (such that I will only take a shower when my beloved’s around), I wasn’t able to relax at all.

 

Inside, the venue was disconcertingly sprawling and, we failed to find the quieter lounge. We spent best part of an hour, but seemed much longer, sat at a table in the bar area chatting with one or two family members. Just the noise of chatter became overwhelming; part of my illness means that I find it difficult to cope with crowds or noise so, really, I was in the wrong place. My total alcohol intake was less than half of the pint of ale I’d imagined I would enjoy.

 

Ten years on from succumbing to this condition (moderate Myalgic Encephalomyelitis), it becomes increasingly hard to understand that I once, not only coped with but, whole heartedly, enjoyed a quite gregarious lifestyle, pubbing, clubbing, politicking, wining and dining, leading  house groups and more!

 

Back at the inn, the landlady turned down the radiator at our request and supplied us with an electric fan and opened the skylight, the only window in the room, to allow some air to circulate. Most of the night was spent restlessly on top of the bed; music from nearby filled the air until 2.00am after which I became aware of the swoosh of traffic, presumably from the motorway. Further distraction was proffered in the form of other guests returning to the inn, as the floorboards groaned and roared their disapproval of human footfall. A worn out washer on the hot tap in our en suite, erratically appliquéd a kind of water torture onto the other aggravating layers of distraction.

 

Having missed out on food the night before, I was looking forward to breakfast but even this hope remained unfulfilled. Still feeling rather stressed, and upset by and commenting on my trip up experience of the previous evening, I interpreted a nervous smile from Helen’s brother as a sneer and duly threatened to deck him. At that point I quit the breakfast room.

 

Our journey back across the Pennines was a far happier experience, travelling predominantly on motorways advocated by the disembodied voice of the SatNav.

the space-hopper weighed down

A deep lethargic spirit consumes my very being; a lead weighted space-hopper would be about right as a description of my personage at 11.30 am. Last night was the worst of those seemingly endless, restless, nauseatingly painful nights that I’ve experienced in a long time. Don’t get me wrong, a disconcertingly discomforted restless night is currently par for the course, but last night was topped with added painfulness. Even my regular pre-emptive strike against nocturnal discomfort, amitriptylene and tramadol taken an hour or so before snuggling under the duvet, seems of little if any avail these days.

 

As I fitfully tossed, turned and squirmed au lit, post-nasal drip and gastro-oesophageal reflux added a further frustrating layer of dis-ease to the tenderness of cervical and axillary lymph nodes. Invisible clog dancers throbbed their way from armpit to elbow, elbow to wrist, before treating the rib cage as a xylophone. As I stretched my legs over the end of the mattress, my toes burnt as if they were being scrubbed with a wire brush. Once the nagging aches pulsed through my hands I decided to don my wrist splints which, somehow, seemed to gradually alleviate the pains in my upper arms.

 

Even the weather seemed to conspire against sleep, the roar of the wind was disturbingly amplified as I lay there, watching the flickering shadows which took on a somewhat threatening character in the darkened bedroom. An irrational childhood fear of the dark seems to have re-emerged recently, although it only applies to darkness within a building not in the great outdoors. Switching on a bedside lamp almost miraculously eased some of the bodily tension but, even then, only quite short snatches of sleep, from around 4.00am,were on the menu. It seems to be the rule that only unrefreshing sleep may be proffered to yours truly! The past couple of weeks have also seen an alarming resurgence of diverticular and spastic colon symptoms, no doubt contributing towards the sudden all enveloping exhaustion which erratically disrupts my daytime routine (or lack of such).

 

I am of course in that period of my life when I start to question how many of my ailments, or to what degree, they are symptoms of an ageing body as much as the manifestation of an underlying chronic illness?

 

Now, here’s the surprise. In spite of all the foregoing ailments I still manage to enjoy life, constantly amazed by the intricacy and complexity of the world around us, attempting to interpret one’s relationship not only to the earth and one’s immediate vicinity but, how we fit into the whole cosmic scheme. The joy that I gain by observing the sheer variety of flora and fauna, even just within the confines of our garden, still fills me with a sense of wonderment. That there is something, rather than nothing, into which we have been thrown, is cause enough for celebration; the love I share with ma belle Bright Light ultimately overwhelms a one time tendency of mine towards cynicism.

Changing Conditions

 

Sometimes conditions affect one in unexpected ways. I found it difficult to cope with the heat on the warmest of our summer days, flagging with fatigue after less than half-an-hour sat out in the garden, in the shade of a parasol. The only answer was to retreat into the house, draw the curtains, and switch on the
oscillating fan.

 

As daytime temperatures have cooled down, and an occasional chilly dampness returned to the equation, some of the old familiar aches and pains have decided to re-inhabit my corporeal being. This correlation of events, leads to a suspicion that these aching components are perhaps more to do do with arthritic and rheumatic twinges than the underlying neurological condition. No sooner have I proffered that suspicion than I recognised that a different interpretation was also plausible.

 

As more moderate temperatures returned, the temptation to tackle a few additional ‘light’ gardening and household tasks was all too easy to yield to. My main problem is a tendency to only listen to my body when I’ve almost drained my low stamina reserve. The trick of ‘pacing’ is to always keep a little stamina in reserve, otherwise any further exertion almost inevitably results in some kind of payback.

 

In the course of the past few days, a light giddily disorienting headache, accompanied by sudden onset pallor has been a recurring theme; my erratically disrupted sleep pattern (during my required dozen hours of bed rest) does little to alleviate such irritations. At other times the sense of being ill-at-ease within my own skin, a sensation that the skin is too tightly constricting the flesh of torso limbs and digits, proves grindingly nausea inducing.

 

I am thankful that, at present, the gnawing tenderness of glands under the jaw and in the armpits is only quite rarely experienced.

 

My beloved ‘Bright Light’ has been enjoying a holiday from the workplace, last week and this, but finds herself needing plenty of rest so, whilst I’ve always revelled in her company, we’ve been kept busy keeping an eye on each other, each making sure that the other doesn’t overdo things. My life has never felt so complete as it has in the time since meeting and marrying ma belle; her faith and loving disposition makes me feel privileged to know her.

rescue service

this little fellow was resting in the middle of our lawn (where predatory cats may visit despite our best endeavours to keep the garden feline free) – at first I wasn’t even sure if it was alive but, when I placed my hand in front of it almost rolled onto it and soon after extended it’s claws to grip my finger.

 I walked up to the birdbath with it on my finger thinking that it may need water and then put a little bird food in my hand hoping to tempt it to eat.

It was with great relief that I watched it, energy reserves replenished, fly swiftly on its way. Although I wouldn’t normally attempt to handle a free creature, the threat of it becoming a cat’s trophy seemed to justify  my intervention.

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!