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.

Easter Greeting

utilized day but what a night

And yesterday I was gifted with a little extra stamina and, I also felt capable of correctly pacing my utilisation of this resource.  Took advantage of this little power surge to top-up and refill the sundry avian feeding stations in our garden; meal worms, sunflower hearts, black sunflower seeds, suet treats etc. most of which swiftly attracted a miscellany of birds ranging from starlings, blackbirds, finches, blue, coal and great tits, collared doves and the odd wood pigeon were all ready for some superior dining experience. I swiftly realised that all the birds’ watering stations needed de-icing so heated up some water.

Already my halo was shining and, I felt totally in control of my physical stamina resource. Mid-afternoon was time to sort out the main aquarium, changing 30 litres (out of the tanks 180litres) and changing nitrate removal filter and a couple of others. Proud of my achievement I relaxed a little before par-boiling a few potatoes, ready for roasting alongside the already simmering casserole which I’d prepared on Sunday.

That’s when the tiredness hit but, fortunately, not uncomfortably so. Come bedtime, I started to feel that I was being punished for the day’s moderate exertions. Perhaps I’m not handling my pacing all that well. Tenderness of the glands under my chin and in the armpits seemed to be sufficiently calmed by a fairly light dose of painkillers but, obviously I’d been deceived again!

Having joined my beloved au lit, decided to watch a diverting little sitcom on TV before snuggling down.  Within about ten minutes of attempting to settle down, the peripatetic clog dancers decided my lower limbs were an ideal place to practice. The duvet felt as if it was scrubbing the skin off my toes as a nausea inducing bruised aching feeling ambled from calf to thigh and back again. Whatever angle I positioned my legs bent or straight, stretched over the end of the bed, hung out over the bed side, the disconcerting ache continued. At one stage I half fell from the bed, my right calf resting on the rug whilst my left lower limb remained in bed, a real groin stretching experience. I can assure you that this posture wasn’t the result of any voluntary action.

Next thing, the old familiar nauseating aches in both arms began to do their darnedest; applying wrist support splints initially seemed to make little difference. I found myself unwittingly whispering, and occasionally screaming, profanities against the Gethsemane night, alongside whimpering like a lonely puppy. Many hours later I started to enjoy a little post-dawn sleep.

Reluctantly, I emerged from the duvet lair, and returned morning greetings to the bright shiny sun!

TRYING TIMES

And suddenly I’m swamped, drowning in the muddy wastes of isolation. It’s not that I’m alone, nor am I not loved; the problem is the endless nagging of sundry aches and pains, the loss of contact with those I once considered friends as if it’s some kind of punishment for being exhaustingly unwell. Where once I was a social and political activist of a somewhat gregarious disposition, attending clubs, concerts, theatre, cinema, I’m now trying hard (although it often comes quite naturally) to be content with a lifestyle where all my entertainment has to be served at home, and campaigning becomes virtual via the internet.

I must admit to the blessings of TV, radio, CDs and mp3s but, they never fully compensate for the more participative experience of actually being present in the theatre, cinema, concert hall or jazz club. For much of the past ten years I’ve had neither sufficient stamina or confidence to think of attending / coping with the duration of a church service, although previously a regular attendee and house-group leader, especially if there’s a reasonably large congregation.

Much of the time I manage to accept these health imposed limitations without too much grieving, at others – such as today, a sense of frustration and despondency verges on despair. Perhaps the frustration really began when I didn’t feel really up to dining out with my beloved and her daughters; a sense of guilt swiftly ensued as I felt, albeit needlessly, that I was being anti-social. At times like this, I start to feel that I’m a burden on my beloved OH and family, although they reassure me that I’m not!

As I write my own report card the familiar words, “must try harder”, take on a marked significance. It’s so easy to be trying, even when it’s difficult to try.

sunshine and celebration

Sometimes it seems as if the day is almost over before I even get started. In one way this is good, it’s generally a sign that I’m appreciating each waking moment, so much so that it’s sometimes a real struggle to stop myself resenting the earth’s rapid orbit.  Recently we’ve been sighting a bright glowing orb in the sky, bringing a little warmth and elevating one’s spirit; after weeks of dull wet days the sunshine has proved most welcome.

As my beloved took a few days off work, around the time of our wedding anniversary, time seems to pass even more sweetly as we enjoy each other’s company. Visits to Café Culture, for a cuppa and cakes, and Al Bivio Ristorante helped heighten the sense of celebration. We also paid a visit to the garden centre at Otley where I acquired a new bird feeding station for the garden, finally using the vouchers that I’d received for my birthday last June; although the centre is less than ten miles away this was the first time I’d really felt up to spending a little time there browsing around. I especially enjoyed looking at the reptiles in the centre’s pet shop.

Meantime, I’ve acquired 5 more golden and 5 white cloud minnows which, having first spent ten days in my quarantine tank,  have now been added to the Main aquarium.  It’s really quite strange that, having introduced my beloved OH to blogging. I have to check out Helen’s blog to see what I’ve been up to!

On Wednesday I had an appointment with my GP, a lesion on my leg, which I’d been attempting to alleviate with a 1% hydrocortisone preparation, wasn’t showing any improvement (quite the opposite in fact) so I was going to see the doctor who specialized more in skin disorders. He was quite baffled by this particular sore spot, it was quite unlike anything he was familiar with, definitely not discoid eczema or Bowens etc;  so he prescribed a potent topical corticosteroid (Mometasone Furoate) which I’ve to apply once a day for a fortnight. He also checked a small occasionally weeping lesion on my chest which he says is a basal cell carcinoma and has duly referred me to the District Hospital. [I’ve had previous experience of having a bcc excised – see ‘Sunshine and Blanket Stitch’] If the ointment applied to my leg hasn’t healed the lesion he suggests I also have the specialist look at that when I have my appointment for the bcc!

Another positive outcome of the visit was to confirm that the recent X-Ray of my hips, following a quite prolonged period of chronic pain, apparently emanating from the right hip, showed no abnormality on the right hand side but, it did show that I had arthiritis on the left-hand side. Fortunately, after copious doses of tramadol & co-codamol the pain had eventually abated!

I received a further acupuncture treatment on Thursday and, I’m no longer averse to expecting resultant miracles. Life goes on and I’m determined to enjoy it – if only I could discover some refreshing sleep all manner of things would be well!   

for this ordinary day ...

What a relief; today I feel much more my usual “better-day” self! Yesterday was the kind of day one always hopes to avoid; from waking-up, after a familiarly intermittent non-refreshing pattern of sleep, and throughout the whole day and evening I felt numbingly exhausted, despite the fact that the excruciating pains in my hip and left limb were quite markedly in abeyance.

 

Last night, as I [un]settled down to sleep, that once far too familiar painfully hollow sharp bruised ache in my left arm took over. Having already taken painkillers, I duly applied a wrist splint which seems [occasionally] to alleviate the nauseating discomfort. A nausea inducing dull tenderness in the armpits soon became apparent; I had to remove my [not at all tight fitting] pyjama jacket which began to feel as if it was constricting armpits, upper arms and shoulders.  

 

The minor setback followed eight days in which I had felt the brightest I could remember for a considerable time. Concentration, alertness and general sense of wellbeing were on a, far too rare, high consequent upon the acupuncture treatment received on 31 January.

 

I feel really blessed in having visits from a physiotherapist, trained in both Eastern and Western models of acupuncture, who has considerable experience / understanding of ME [Myalgic Encephalomyelitis] both as a practitioner and a fellow sufferer. Being enthusiastically athletic, it must have come as quite a blow when she succumbed to this wretched neurological condition. Working as a physiotherapist, she had noticed the detrimental effect that exercise was having on some of her clients; at the time I doubt whether there was any inkling that this could become part of her own experience.

 

Today has been a wonderfully relaxed time in the company of my beloved, exchanging sweet nothings, and catching up with some recorded TV programmes. For this ordinary day – I give thanks.

Reposted on Mal's Factory

The Leicester car park skeleton having been positively identified as that of Richard III, the last Plantagenet king,

I deemed it appropriate to repost the poem

'Mission Betrayed' [Redemore 22 August 1485],

on 'Mal's Factory'

and I'm feeling fine ... ailments excepted

Oh, the sheer delight of a nice warm shower; there are so many things we tend to take for granted, thus depriving oneself of that real appreciative thrill. I admit to having gone through quite a long period of avoiding too frequent a shower, having found the effort involved far too enervating; by the time I’d towelled myself dry I needed a further bout of bed rest.

The acquisition and installation of a secure shower seat alleviated some of the more dauntingly exhausting aspects but, even then, when I stand up my sense of balance (within those steamy environs) is insufficient for me to feel at all secure. Fortunately, my beloved OH is there to proffer assistance at my now more usual, although spasmodic, evening shower time.

******

Anyway, last evening’s shower proved especially beneficial; a most recently acquired acute pain extending from the neck and upper spine across the shoulder blade had made it difficult to even put on my shirt as I rose from my bed. My beloved applied generous amounts of ibuprofen gel all around the affected area. An attempt to lay back down proved even more painful so I persevered with getting dressed as, in any case, ma belle chauffeuse (aka Helen, ma belle, my OH, my wife, my lover, my bestest friend) was preparing to take me to the hospital for an X-ray and blood tests. The shower certainly alleviated the shoulder pain, even though it rarely seems to help sundry other painful ailments.

It seemed strange hobbling into the X-ray room posture made awkward with the shoulder pain, as the area to be photographed was my hip! What’s the connection, you may well wonder; so I proffer an hypothesis. On Tuesday evening, the night before last, ma belle et moi ventured out to the branch labour party meeting at the Catholic club. The meeting was due to start at 7.30 and, we duly arrived in good time on a blustery rainy evening. Unfortunately the doors of the venue were not due to be opened until 7.30 so we had a little time spent exposed to the elements. By the time we’d got in and sat down, my hip and lower limbs felt extremely uncomfortable, so I had to keep shuffling around to try to get comfortable; I suspect the changing postures involved, in  these hip-pain alleviating manoeuvres, were responsible for unusual stresses on the shoulder.

******

This afternoon the physio arrived chez nous to apply the magic needles. As I relaxed a beautiful warm glow seemed to permeate my limbs, after which I experienced a wonderful carefree rest in my favourite supportive high back armchair. Over recent years acupuncture has proved a great source of pain reduction and stamina boosting for me, a convinced sceptic until I tried it!  

And, I’m feeling fine!

ailing and rejoicing

It seems really strange how quickly the days, weeks, months and even years, scurry by! I often think of how little I manage to do each day, and yet, time still manages to pass almost too quickly for comfort. Even on days where my sundry ailments are crying havoc, and I wish the pain and discomfort would quickly pass, I can never wish the day to end as I look forward to my OH’s return from work. I wish the ailments would disappear but not the day.

 I appreciate every moment of my existence, the piscine activity in aquarium and pond, the birds visiting our garden but, most importantly,  the more time I can spend with my beloved the better; each moment of life is to be savoured and I give thanks that I still have the ability to appreciate it.

As I write I’m sitting in comfort at the fireside, listening to Berlioz’s Overture to King Lear (courtesy of Radio 3) and, casting an eye over the garden; I never thought multi-tasking was something I could manage! My furthest ventures out in recent weeks have been to the local shops and, on one occasion, the extra few minutes trudge to see my doctor.

Even after 8½ years, since succumbing to this illness, I still find it difficult to accept that I can no longer take a “proper” walk! I can at least manage many things better than was the case in the not too distant past. As long as I remember to PACE myself, take appropriate medication, and feel and express gratitude for all life’s blessings (including the ministrations of my physiotherapist – herself a PwME – as she applies the acupuncture needles ), I do experience reasonably long periods when many of the symptoms appear to have gone into remission.

I am currently battling (unsuccessfully for the past six to eight weeks) with acute, although spasmodic, pains in the hip and left lower limb joints and muscles. Externally applied Ibuprofen gel had barely any effect. A thorough examination by my GP, who I saw once these symptoms started interfering further with an already erratic pattern of unrefreshing sleep, left me feeling rather more bruised and battered. He prescribed 2 x Co-codamol 15/500 to be taken (in alternate doses) with my usual 2 x 50ml tramadol and the usual pre-bedtime amitriptyline.

 So far the results are not at all promising but, tomorrow I’ll be going to the District Hospital for a hip X-Ray and blood tests, and the possibility of a further scan.

Although I initially thought it may just be a bout of sciatica, rather than a recurrence of my herniated disc problem, I’m no longer prepared to self-diagnose.

As I continue writing the Red Kite has entered my field of vision, circling just beyond our garden boundary. I’m quite surprised to see it today as conditions are wet and blustery. At lower level, blue tits, coal tits, and a robin have been visiting our feeders.

This evening, emotional and physical stamina permitting, I’m hoping to attend the AGM of our local Labour Party.

I rejoice and am glad in this day the Lord has made.

simple pleasures and a heartless regime

Sometimes, far too frequently in fact, I forget to count my blessings.

Quite recently I was able to enjoy Christmas to a far greater extent than has been the case for several years past; I actually managed to pace myself reasonably well, with a minimum of twelve hours bed rest per twenty-four. Medications and grace combined to keep the worst excesses of pains, aches and sensory overload at bay; even my limited reserves of emotional stamina held out well for this time of grateful celebration.

In the past few days I’ve crashed a little; sudden bouts of fatiguing exhaustion during daytime hours are (almost invariably) followed by restlessly discomforting nights. At least I’m able to do a bit of reading, even though my concentration wavers considerably more than in days of yore! Most importantly, I’m able to enjoy the activity without it seeming a chore.

I always feel privileged to love and be loved by ma belle Helen, just to hold and be held by each other brings with it a tremendous sense of wholeness, going a long way towards alleviating that sense of isolation arising from a greatly restricted ability to socialise in the wider world since the onset of this debilitating illness.

Sat in a comfortable supporting armchair, I can watch all the avian activity in our garden; in recent days we’ve had plentiful visits from coal, blue, and long-tailed tits, alongside the sparrows and starlings. Their antics are always a delight, as are the regular sightings of red kite, gracefully riding the thermals overhead.

As a recipient of a state pension, alongside a couple of small company pensions, I am fortunate that I no longer have to be dragged through the arduous demeaning benefits medical assessments, that so many sufferers of chronic illnesses – mental or physical – are so unfairly forced to endure, adding further stress to their already vulnerable state of being.

I am truly blessed, having food in my belly, a roof over my head and, we are still able to afford to keep ourselves warm (despite the profiteering greed of the privatized utilities). These things, that should be a right, are increasingly becoming a privilege under a heartless ConDem regime.