The Guilt of a Spoonie Wimp

Convulsive weeping, the pattern of my day; a sense of failure, weakness or betrayal, none of it makes sense! After weeks of feeling further under par, a decision to increase my dose of amitriptylene (up to now used to deal with some nocturnal discomfort) towards an anti-depressant level just made me feel worse. Persistent headache, intensified abdominal bloating & discomfort, loss of appetite (difficulty swallowing even), postural hypotension alongside a more general dizziness, all seemed to coincide with the increased dosage.

Recent weeks had seen a marked increase in my stress levels, as work on the new extension kitchen, dining room, and walk-in shower, dominated my conscious awareness of every day-time, and the added confusion of life in total disarray in other parts of the house proved more burdensome than either of us had anticipated.

Sleep and pain patterns have become even more erratic than usual but then, always at the back of my mind was a proposed visit to Worthing to celebrate the Golden Wedding Anniversary of my brother & sister in law, Dave & Janet. Having plucked up courage to book an hotel room, sometime last week, for a four night stay, the imminence of the travel became more real but, I felt the special nature of the occasion would somehow enable me to carry it through.

Today was to have been the day of travel (more like travail) – a journey of approx 6 hours duration – but although the car was packed with our case and rucksack, necessary medications having been packed last evening, the event was not to be. At present even the five to ten minute journey into town can seem like an arduous expedition so, I should have realized that this event was not to be. First mistake was removing myself from the duvet lair, after an all too familiar restless night, over an hour earlier than is my norm.

Wham, the enormity of the proposed venture hit home with pile-driver force; I would love to have been there for the celebrations but, my own wimpish nature resisted the travail. That’s when the tears got into full flow, a deep rooted feeling that I was really betraying my brother & sister-in-law, I began to wish I didn’t love them, that would have made it far easier to turn down the invitation. The vicious circle followed – yes, I should make the journey, no matter the deleterious effects that may have – no, I’d be foolish to travel but, that’s letting my brother down.

Sadly, the journey is not taking place, the sense of guilt weighs heavily. 

and warmth caresses

out of the kitchen and missing the heat

Although each hour, of each day, may seem to drag at present, it still amazes me how swiftly each year seems to pass. Most of the time each day has seemed to pass far to quickly, no sooner is one getting into it’s swing than tiredness sets in; gosh, I’m sounding like a real Grinch today.

The (current) absence of not only a functioning kitchen, but even sans kitchen sink, or even a single gas or electric hob, just seems to leave a hollow at the core of my being. Who would have thought that once, not too many years ago, I subsisted on a diet of predominantly microwaveable (so-called) meals; even in recent days, the cooking bug having for some time since had a hold of me, preparation has felt at times a chore too far, only reluctantly pursued. No working kitchen and an echoing void of proposed kitchen diner exuding its presence into the lounge, leaves one feeling achingly hollow.

I am indeed fortunate to have a roof over my head, a partner to love and be loved by, yet still I find temporary inconvenience a source of veering close to a state of reactive depression. It would be easy, of course, to blame my dispiritedness on my permanent condition of aches, pains, disorientation and unrefreshing sleep, which admittedly doesn’t help, but then I feel overwhelmed by guilt at my self pity. In a land where the government is determined to punish the poor, the  vulnerable and disabled in response to a crisis caused by their banker friends, what right have I to feel at all sorry for myself?    

The Common Cold - A Rare Event (an accidental posting)

Life goes on, recurrence of the old familiar aches, pains and dysfunctions (primarily ME related) nag me into acknowledgment of my presence in the material world. Don't get me wrong, whatever  ailments are thrown my way I still manage a smile, a laugh and, dare I say it, pure enjoyment and delight in the presence of my beloved.

The last few days I've been quite knocked out by a quite severe cold and, who knows, this may be a good sign - fingers crossed for the moment but I won't hold my breath; last time I had a real cold was best part of thirteen years ago. In 2003, a cold or flu-like symptoms seemed to accompany my every day, never materializing as a full-blown anything. Two thousand and three was also the year of my major collapse leading to an eventual ME diagnosis; in the meantime, whatever discomforts and anguish I've been heir to, a full blown cold has eluded me.

Actually I had no intention of writing a full post, just wanted to say that I've posted a brand new poem (both text only and illustrated version) on my Mal's Factory poetry weblog. It very much reflects the present ambience in which I have my being.

Link: http://malsfactory.blogspot.co.uk/2016/03/twice-removed.html

A SLOW SLIDES JOURNEY INTO DAYMARE

A SLOW SLIDES JOURNEY INTO DAYMARE

Today would be best forgotten but, it’s my failure that I find it hard to forget, just as I find it almost insurmountably difficult to forgive. Much of today’s problems, other than the generally ongoing ME related ailments, emanate from the inappropriate prescribing by a certain medical professional. That GP I am unable to forgive.

This morning I was forced to emerge, from the duvet lair, a good

1 ¾  hrs earlier than is my norm, to keep a previously postponed appointment at the hospital’s orthoptics department. The morning, apart from my unearthly hours emergence into the day, was also greeted with a quite heavy snowfall.

Anyone who knows me, at all well, is all too aware of my difficulty with travel of any kind and, this morning’s short journey, following the main roads rather than our usual shortcuts, was one of following and being followed by skidding and stalling vehicles.  This was just like living through a nightmare for my sensitivities. At one point, even my beloved chauffeuse thought we’d maybe have to call the hospital to cancel the appointment, this time at much shorter notice. In spite of prior weather warnings of snowfall the responsible(!) authorities hadn’t bothered to grit the roads.

Whilst my beloved queued, waiting to access the hospital’s car park, I made my way to the relevant department. As I looked for the right place I wandered past the turning, having been told it was to the left, by a volunteer near reception, whereas it was actually to the right. Having ambled along the corridor a notice clearly stated that patients for Visual Fields Test should take a seat “here”, which I duly obeyed. Several minutes later a couple of hospital staff ambled by and asked if I was alright; I in turn informed them that I was waiting for the visual field test. Evidently I should have first reported to a reception staton some twenty to thirty yards further along the corridor.

By this time I urgently needed the loo, and had a bout of re-active diarrhoea, before entering the surgery. The clinician was quite concerned that my head felt so hot, and I explained how this wasn’t unusual as I could sweat in a freezing environment, my body thermostat being shattered / wildly erratic ever since succumbing to ME.

About halfway through the tests on my first eye I required a break as my chin and forehead were so uncomfortable, and I needed a drink of water before I continued. No sooner was the patch transferred to the other eye, and appropriate lens in place than I became quite headachy and totally incapable of concentrating as all spun around me. I informed the clinician that I wasn’t able to continue the test and also cancelled and discharged myself from tomorrows appointment with ophthalmology.

I simply cannot cope with early hours or concentrated attention. The appointments would not, in any case, have been necessary had my GP not messed haphazardly with my medication. [Earlier postings have already dealt with this situation]

Why not visit my POETRY blog?

Check out my most recent postings on MAL's FACTORY - a blog for poetry & prose-poems - http://malsfactory.blogspot.co.uk

REALLY THE armPITS

My status on Facebook, posted early evening yesterday, read as follows:

“Much of yesterday went far beyond the Gethsemane experience, more towards identity with the flaying on that early Friday morning. Just as one form of deep discomfort, of a tear and nausea inducng variety, seemed to be easing, elsewhere along the ley line of the nervous system came a sensation of searing tongs being applied to sundry areas of the upper limbs & armpits.

Application of supports (wrist, shoulder, back etc.) at times preceded a necessity to discard oppressive items of clothing, such as socks, cardigan, shirts. A necessity to spread out one's fingers, their proximity to each other promoting a tingling dis-ease, was accompanied at times by a the need to clench upper arms in an almost impossible tightness to the torso, aided at times by having a scarf strapping them down. Lower limbs flexed and turned - so much so that I became unsure about how many of the positions were consciously attained as opposed to a rather sustained involuntary spasm. it seemed as if painkillers were refusing to act as burning searing discomfort imprisoned me for much of the late afternoon and evening.

That was yesterday. Today is a better day thus far. Really enjoyed the House Group / Bible Study chez nous this afternoon. A wonderful time of fellowship.”

Sadly, it was only a matter of a couple of hours before the torment returned. Even picking up the small tablet pc or a newspaper, instantly caused a gnawing discomfort in wrists and armpits and, clasping upper arms tightly to torso did little to alleviate the onset of a nausea sensation. I remained grateful for those afternoon hours of relative ease, hanging on to the gratitude response by way of compensation for the fresh onset of dis-ease.

Last night (from at least 02.30 this am) I had one of the most sustained periods of sound sleep than I’d experienced in more months than I can remember;  that certainly seemed a good omen for the belatedly entered new day. The sense of being enfleshed in an undersized skin soon returned and much wrist-strapping, arm clenching (tightly to torso) was required. As ailments seemed to ease, my beloved and I ventured out for a meal at the local eatery, a    pre-emptive celebration for our upcoming anniversary. It seemed a good opportunity to dine out, as on both Thursday and Friday I have hospital appointments to attend at around the apposite time, and other arrangements already in hand for tomorrow.

No sooner had we been seated at a suitable table than the act of holding a simple menu card released discomfort in the armpits and upper limbs. I just wanted to scream out loud, take off jumper and shirt before clasping shoulders with both hands –  arms crossed in St Andrew’s fashion.  This particular treat was not to be, so we returned home to catch up on a TV programme (‘Trapped’) that we’d missed on Saturday. At least at home I could clasp myself tightly, whilst sitting shirtless with arms firmly at attention. Meanwhile

 I sought out my toe separators to place between discomforted / discomforting fingers in  a vain attempt to eliminate bouts of nausea.

Armpits seem to serve solely to alienate me from my body at present but, hopefully. a fresh dose of tramadol will eliminate the still too pervasive pain.

A glimmer of hope

The process of trying to get an urgent appointment proved harrowingly frustrating but, I suspect the age of miracles is not yet dead - we certainly need them!

Anyway, the seemingly impossible happened .....

Eyewitness - Timeline - Headchange

This post also appears on Mal's Murmurings :

Eyewitness – Timeline – Headchange

150116 –  15.50hrs Attended Boots Optician for a (routine) eye test, reassuringly thorough, and made to feel at ease by optometrist, optician and all staff.

190116 Told to stop taking amitriptyline, usually taken at night, and sertraline, usually taken AM, with immediate effect. This was to be replaced immediately with trazodone, to be taken at night. When reading, as the pack advised, the enclosed Patient Information Leaflet it advised that one should not take trazodone if they have taken amitiptyline in the preceding fortnight!

As doctors, at surgery, were not forthcoming with a response to my concern, I quit amitrip and sertr. cold turkey, without taking the disputed new medication!

More details of these events can be found on my blog posts of 19, 29 and 25 January.

250116 Went to collect new spectacles from opticians – whilst en route to the opticians a most disconcerting sudden onset of a problem with my left eye occurred, A large floater, in the form of a black ring pirouetted through a full 360 degrees, dancing about and intermittently shooting at supersonic speed to a position several feet beyond my right side. My arms felt impelled to reach out to grasp this illusory element.

A few tests were carried out by the staff at the opticians but eye health seemed pretty good. I duly tried out and collevted the new spectacles.

020216 – took first dose of trazodone @22.20hrs

050216 – 12.30hrs fwd. Dramatically sudden decrease of vision occurred in left eye, an intensifying blurry veil stopping just short of total blindness, and a deep throbbing pain behind and surrounding the eye socket. When my beloved arrived home about 14.40hrs she immediately saw the need to drive me to the opticians pronto.

Both the opticians and optometrist carried out further thorough tests and scans, noticing a marked deterioration in my vision compared to my prescription of 15 January. The scans didn't reveal any damage or tears but, they made an appointment for me at Harrogate District Hospital Eye Clinic for 12.00 noon the next day.

By 23.00 hours my vision had improved significantly.

060216 – 12.00hrs attended Eye Clinic. Further tests and scans were performed before I went in to see the clinic's Consultant. After further tests, whilst I attempted to describe the experience, she gave a diagnosis of 'ocular migraine',(although typical episodes tend to disperse much more quickly than was the case for me!)

I subsequently discovered that anitriptylene has (not infrequently) been prescribed as a preventative for ocular migraine!

Perhaps if I'd remained on amitriptyline the ocular migraine would have been postponed. Alternatively, these events may have occurred nuch sooner had I never been prescribed the drug (to assist with night pain alongside tramadol)!

080216 – A severe overwhlming headache, cheek ache, eye ache persisted for much of the day, accompanied by giddiness and nausea.

Every day since commencing with trazodone(on 2 February) I've emerged into the day with a throbbing headache and in a stateveering towards total collapse – accompanied by a grey pallor.


++++++++++++++

PS after posting this blog, a friend, with considerable medical experience, was chatting with me on Skype - he happened to mention that 'blurred vision' was a known side effect of trazadone! He was also well aware of contra-indication re amitiptyline / trazodone.

Of Beatification - Massacre of the Innocents - and the Beeb

OF BEATIFICATION, MASSACRE of the INNOCENTS, and the BEEB

It cannot have escaped the attention of even the most casual listener to BBC Radio 2, in the course of the last 24 hours, that a process of beatification is well under way for Pudsey’s primary accomplice. Of course the way has to be carefully prepared for subsequent canonisation of the noble knight.

Every news bulletin reader, continuity announcer and programme presenter was contractually obliged to “Go Tel(l) it on the Mountain” that Terry’s woes have gone.

Each pre-recorded programme, broadcast yesterday, was preceded by a pre-emptive apology that their presenter, and production team, lacked foreknowledge of Sir Terry’s passing before the shows’ due transmission date.

Meanwhile, the slaughter of innocents (some of which is ejaculatorily supported by our own dear government ministers) continues unabated around the globe whilst, at home, the Tories persecution of society’s most vulnerable old, young, poor, sick and/or disabled, alongside their dismantling of the NHS, continues apace, only to pass unacknowledged by the Beeb’s department of navel-gazing news and current affairs.

RIP Sir Terry. RIP the welfare state’s compassion and humanitarian concern. RIP decency at the heart of Government. 

General Practitioners may be Bad for one’s emotional Health

General Practitioners may be Bad for one’s emotional Health!

Seven days ago my Patient Information Leaflet saga began and, on this the seventh day, I received an early morning telephonic communication from the medical practice. Once again it was a receptionist making the call and she duly read out a (quite lengthy) statement from the prescribing doctor declaring his infallibility. It actually stated that he was well aware of side-effect and contra-indications but as he was prescribing a very low dose (100mg when the capsules are made in only 50 & 100mg); I would have considered 50mg to be very low dose in this instance.

My primary concern was the positive declaration that one should not take this medication if they’ve taken the specific medication I was on within the last two weeks. Of course being some sort of God the GP obviously didn’t feel it was worthwhile to deal with this specific.

Of course it was said that I could arrange an appointment with said doctor to discuss the issue but, what’s the point of consulting a GP who offhandedly (as witnessed by my wife who sat in on the appointment) ignores anything the patient says if it doesn’t suit his agenda? In any case it always takes ages to get an appointment. Although I had been quite prepared to start taking the new medication two weeks after having taken the last dose of the previously prescribed ones, this wasn’t presented as an option so I now have misgivings about taking it at all, which as the receptionist says “that’s the patient’s prerogative”.

I can only assume that patients are supposed to ignore Patient Information leaflets, as they may prove challenging to the GPs’ omniscience. 

MEDICATIONS Mess Up - Contra-indications

The two previous posts refer to this same topic! I suppose this is simply an update.

________________________________________________________________________

MEDICATIONS: Current state of play. I've now stopped taking both amitriptyline and sertraline ('cold turkey' as followed GP's advice to return unused ones to pharmacy - that was before I'd read the leaflet with the Trazadone that he recommended I started that evening) but am not taking Trazodone.

My beloved OH visited my GP's surgery to point out the information warning me not to take the Trazadone; the receptionist took the details saying the duty doctor would contact me this afternoon. Mid-afternoon one of the practice receptionists called me to say that the duty doctor said it had to be dealt with by the GP I saw yesterday but he won't be there until next Monday. It seems obvious to me that contracted GPs are afraid to challenge even wrong decisions by a practice partner.

A Further Post Script to previous post

This post is a further postscript to 

FRUSTRATIONS of a Medical and Medicinal Kind

 as someone who has been taking amitriptyline at night for more than a couple of years it's a good job that I thoroughly read the Patient Information Leaflet! To replace amitriptyline and a low dose of sertraline my GP has prescribed a drug (which I'm supposed to start immediately) which explicitly states that one "should not take Trazodone if I've taken amitriptylene within the last two weeks".

It also states special care should be taken if "your age is above 65years, as you may be more prone to side effects" and "take special care if you suffer from conditions like abdominal pain, muscle weakness, mental confusion"

I am 71yrs 7months of age, and suffer intermittently with abdominal pains and muscle weakness as part of my general state of unwell-being (ME). Even mental confusion was present not long after I first succumbed to ME at the end of 2003.

FRUSTRATIONS of a Medical and Medicinal Kind

This post also appears on 'Mal's Murmurings' under the title 'CONSULTATION FRUSTRATION'

___________________________________

It shouldn’t really be like this; anger and despair turn out to be the result of a visit to the GP. Having finally yielded to my beloved’s advice, I got around to arranging an appointment with my local doctors practice. My reluctance to make this appointment is the knowledge that they’re only equipped, or allowed the time, to deal with a specific singular ailment, not a complex multiplicity or whole people.

First annoyance came when he (being the doctor) stated that the medications I was on had a tendency to conflict / counteract each other to some degree. Considering the length of time I’ve been on this assortment of potentially self-conflicting cocktails, I begin to wonder why the practice had been oblivious to this over the course of the past couple of years.

When conflicting advice, between medics in the same practice, as to whether certain meds should be used pre-emptively or only when absolutely necessary, adds a further quandary for the patient as to the efficacy of using the practice at all.

Anyway, a couple of the prescribed medications are no longer to be used; they are replaced by a single different medication. Worrying for me is the following statement, on the Patient Information leaflet:

 take special care if you:

suffer from conditions like abdominal pain, muscle weakness, mental confusion.

[there are times – regularly for the first two, occasional for the latter - when I can tick all those boxes]

The doctor further suggested that I should use co-codamol instead of tramadol, even though I’d had to stop using co-codamol, because of the effect it was having on various abdominal organs, a few years back. Tramadol, thankfully, remains on my prescription.

Next came the little prep talk suggesting Graded Exercise Therapy would help, even performing the same limited exercise on ‘bad’ as well as ‘good’ days. Obviously he has no understanding of what a PwME’s (even moderately so) ‘bad’ day is like. I explained that even the visit to the opticians, a limited amount of exercise involved, was sufficient to cause payback, his response was that obviously was too much exertion!

Well, it seems that I’ll have to stick with my own pacing regimen which essentially curtails any exertion on bad days and, ensuring that I always have some spoons in reserve when I exercise on good days.

The preceding events, at least their physical & mental toll, necessitate a temporary postponement of my visit to hospital for further blood tests

I’m quite proud of myself for refraining from the use of expletives during this little rant; expletives remain in my personal domestic space for the time being

_________________________________

Malcolm Evison doctor even told me that there's no connection between overload of pain stimuli and the corresponding nausea that I experience !!!

GOOD TIMES - BAD TIMES - Strangely NORMAL TIMES

Wrists in strong supports, left hand clasped tightly in armpit by right upper arm, right hand grasping left shoulder, upper left arm clasped tightly to side, and I want to scream. The nagging aching pain and discomfort little eased by 100mg of tramadol swallowed a couple of hours ago.

Everything felt fine when I decided to move from reclining to upright posture, but then just switching on laptop and tapping a few keys was sufficient to bring back the heavily aching nausea-inducing pain in the upper arms; the sensation not too dissimilar to a state of total exhaustion when one is prohibited from rest or sleep.

When lying down a throbbing ache envelops my knees; bending knees to make a tent under my shrouding fleece temporarily alleviates the gnawing knee pain. Next it’s the toes that are the problem, a sudden burning sensation in lower digits all too swiftly feels as if my skin is being grated by the restraining pressure of what are usually quite normal socks. This latter item swiftly becomes an instrument of torture and, their removal does little to relieve the sting.

It’s beginning to feel like some sort of punishment as atonement for having two reasonably good days. On Friday I finally managed to visit the opticians, first time I’ve managed that since 2003, previous attempts having been thwarted by sensory overload and/or panic attacks. I t really felt like quite an achievement to have undergone a range of tests by both optometrist and optician. The optometrist was genuinely interested to learn a little about ME (and my denouncing of the wastebin CFS diagnoses) and really put me at ease.

Fired up by this amazing achievement, next day I decided to attend to one of my problem PC’s that I hadn’t touched since September. No amount of online research (and subsequent application) resolved the issues that had thwarted my efforts last year. There was nothing for it other than fresh installation of Win 7 and countless updates to be applied.

By mid to late evening I was quite shatteredly exhausted but, having go to bed sleep proved extremely elusive. Illusory sleep turned out to be the lesser nocturnal oppression. Wrists, elbows, lymph nodes, and lower digits screamed out for attention. Tubular bandages over elbows and much of the arms, elasticated metal spined wrist supports offered little in the way of pain and discomfort relief and, the burning flayed skin of the toes screamed out in accompaniment to my expletive laden vocalising. An application of moisturiser to feet and toes proffered temporary alleviation but, I’m not sure whether it was the emollient or the massaging effect of its application that provided this relief. This procedure was repeated several times during the course of the next couple of hours.

 By 11.19 this morning I reluctantly emerged from the duvet lair only marginally less exhausted than the previous late evening. What of today? You may well ask! The first paragraph describes some of my afternoon.

Season's Greetings

Patient's Progress

Emotional resilience remains with me, apart from minor daytime lapses and nocturnal responses to my own unique brand of peripheral neuropathy. These nocturnal skin flaying, burning, tingling, claustrophobic sensations seem to afflict my whole psychosomatic being with expletive laden outbursts and foot stomps around the bedroom whilst my beloved sleeps contentedly.

Perhaps I should explain that the symptoms afflicting my whole being are, superficially at least, only being felt on the upper parts of my toes. The claustrophobia represents these pitiful digits' need to escape the confines of any bed-linen and / or duvet! There just doesn’t seem to be any chance of finding a comfortable position for the lower limbs, in order to settle down to sleep. Sundry intermittent discomforts play havoc with the bodies need for rest yet, quite strangely, by the time my beloved is waking from her slumbers I’m able to relax sufficiently to enter the Land of Nod!

Sudden onset daytime bouts of exhaustion are currently in the ascendant, frequently accompanied by wrist, elbow and knee pains demanding application of sundry splints and supports, which seem to simultaneously ease the nausea inducing tenderness emanating from axillary lymph nodes. Painkillers are then required as, once again, I’ve failed to divine that a pre-emptive dose would have been in order!

Ma belle frequently feels frustrated, and even guilty, by her inability to alleviate the intense discomfort that I quite frequently experience; I know that my suffering would be far greater without the experience of love and care for each other through which I am truly blessed.

#ME – There and Back Again!

Sometimes it seems that even that moderately low plateau of stamina, is a level too high to return to. At present, a dispiriting pain and ache level of exhaustion seems intent upon taking permanent residence in my limbs and torso; at times its tentacles seem to stretch discomfortingly into head and psyche as well!

There’s always a price to be paid for even a modest additional expenditure of physical and emotional stamina, even when that expenditure itself seemed beneficial. Recuperation from payback seems to be tidal in nature; just when one thinks that the energy tide is in it swiftly ebbs away.

On Saturday 17^th some long standing friends made their way across the Pennines to Harrogate. Upon their arrival at the Cedar Court Hotel they ‘phoned to invite us over for beaucoup de catch up conversation and an early evening meal. The three to four hours spent with them passed in what seemed like one hour tops! Stamina resources didn’t seem to be a problem at all, I simply basked in the socializing experience.

Next afternoon, our friends joined us chez nous, for further chats and an early evening meal’ Fortunately, I’d already prepared a curry, earlier on the Saturday, so there wasn’t too much effort involved in dinner preparation.

Once again the few hours together seemed to pass at supersonic speed. For a while I felt as if my stamina was heading back to pre-illness levels and, I felt quite on form to co-host our monthly Bible Study group, chez nous, on the Monday afternoon. The study and fellowship proved rewarding as usual.

On Tuesday 19^th a degree of payback kicked in. A shattered painful exhaustion, swiftly metamorphosed from simple over-tiredness,to a sharp burning sensation on the uppers of my feet and simultaneous excruciating pains in my upper limbs, Meantime my torso felt crushed and bloated. That’s just a fragment of the discomforting regimen of the day. Wrist, elbow, and back supports were intermittently required, alongside a frequent recourse to tramadol.

By the Wednesday morning I felt as if I was being gradually restored to normality, only to regress on subsequent days. At least I’m now having less recourse to painkillers.

By the beginning of this week I feel as if emotional resilience has returned; all that remains are my more regular aches, pains, and sudden onset bouts of exhaustion.

 As I look out on blue skies, all’s well with the world.

Dis-Arming Dis-Ease

Being tickled so hard that hysterical laughter turns into a painful scream, I wonder if you know that feeling, because that’s how I feel now except without the laughter! Suddenly the newspaper felt too heavy, or at least too awkward to hold; the wrists succumb to a pounding tympanic throb, so I apply the necessary strappings. Next the inevitable discomfort in the armpits, suddenly the skin feels at least two sizes too small for the torso it embraces; that aching laughter sensation, referred to earlier, holds both inner upper arms in thrall. I try, with only a modicum of success, to dampen the nausea response by clasping the upper arms almost tourniquet tight against my body.

To an onlooker it must seem as if I’ve been suddenly shocked into a     distorted catatonic state.  

It takes some time before I pluck up courage to extend my forearms away from the upper-arm locked torso. A sigh of relief murmurs forth, as I release myself from this temporary stasis; it’s almost as if I’d been holding my breath alongside clasping the upper arms to torso.

It’s proving difficult to catch up on some much needed rest, last night had been one of intense dis-ease best summed up by my posting on facebook at 3.30AM:

Once I stop feeling
my skin's being flayed
whilst discomfort dances
leadenly

over joints
and muscles
then

I may get
some much needed
sleep

Night night folks!

I’m afraid the “Night night folks” was a little too optimistic. I finally managed a little, scarcely refreshing, shut-eye from around 6.00AM.

What goes around ...

First, (or at least at a randomly selected point on the arc of unwellness), the eyelids struggle against the gravitational pull, an overwhelming ache through sinuses and tingling cheeks; I finally admit my weakness and go to lie down on the sofa. By this time I acknowledge a need for a couple of strong pain-killers, as well as wrist and palm supports. The dull throbbing ache in the wrist seems to transmit a negative signal to the armpits and axillary lymph nodes.

Next, an extremely discomforting, nausea inducing, hollow ache begins; it feels as if it floats on a leaden bed which wraps around the upper inner arms. I squirm and mutter distraught moans, squeeze upper arms tightly against my torso. Within a few minutes the squirming becomes even more intolerable; what next?

Turn onto my left side, interlock my fingers, lift the heel of the right hand into the other hands palm; back of the right hand bonily supports my left cheek. Further agitated juxtapositions of hands, arms, torso, perform an erratic ritualistic dance. Eventually the nausea eases, tenderness of lymph nodes, and discomforted wrists, decide to keep me company a little while longer.

For now things are easier, just the usual niggles; it would be nice to think it won’t happen again but, unfortunately, it’s never too far away.

BBC CONSULTATION - Government plans to rip out the heart of the BBC

Have a look at this: https://secure.38degrees.org.uk/bbc-consultation-thankyou

It just took me just a few minutes to fill in the official survey about the future of the BBC.

Government plans to rip out the heart of the BBC are taking shape. Imagine a BBC where newsnight is riddled with adverts. Or a BBC so underfunded that independent news becomes a thing of the past and the airwaves are dominated by Rupert Murdoch’s media. This is what the Government wants - we need to stop them.

Just before the summer break, the government snuck out a ‘public consultation’ on the future of the BBC. It’s full of gobbledegook questions - they were obviously hoping that nobody would respond! So the 38 Degrees staff team has ‘translated’ the questions into plain English, and the time’s come to make sure they hear our voices.

Without our voices, the government can claim that people don’t care about the future of the BBC, opening the doors to Murdoch. So can you add your voice and stand up for the BBC? Just click this link to fill out the survey now:
https://secure.38degrees.org.uk/bbc-consultation-thankyou

I’ve included my responses to the survey questions below:

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

How well is the BBC serving its national and international audiences?

The BBC, despite the shortfall in its income (and costs for world service being wrongly charged to them instead of the government), provides a prestigious and excellent service. I regularly listen to Radio 2, 3, 4, 4extra and 6 music, and the majority of my TV viewing is on BBC One, Two, Four and occasionally BBC Three. The catch-up and other i-player functions are proving indispensable. Natural History is a particular strength.

Which elements of universality are most important for the BBC?

Drama, Documentaries and entertainment provided by the BBC are generally of a very high standard and must be maintained alongside their news and current affairs coverage. Sport, which is nowadays very commercialized, would be best handed over to the commercial channels.

Is the BBC’s content sufficiently high quality and distinctive from that of other broadcasters? What could improve it?

Improvement is difficult to contemplate as the BBC's content generally stands head & shoulders above other media providers.

Where does the evidence suggest the BBC has a positive or negative wider impact on the market?

The BBC has always been a provider of quality programmes, whilst many of the commercial providers seem to revel in catering to the lowest denominator.

Is the expansion of the BBC’s services justified in the context of increased choice for audiences? Is the BBC crowding out commercial competition and, if so, is this justified?

I value the range of services provided by the BBC and, I consider that any well managed commercial organization has only itself to blame if it cannot stand up to the competition! Only the weak fear competition!

Has the BBC been doing enough to deliver value for money? How could it go further?

Excellent value for money. It could however stop paying exorbitant salaries / fees to presenters such as Wogan, Evans, and the unlamented Clarkson.

How should we pay for the BBC and how should the licence fee be modernised?

 

I would be happy to pay more for the current arrangement but with welfare benefits paid (toward the cost) for the less well off