The Single Porsche Family

With a day pass for a regional conference at £35 (advance booking) and dinner at £50, one starts to wonder just who these events are aimed at. Even if health permitted my attendance, the tariff alone would prove prohibitive. Obviously attendance at such conferences is based upon one's bank balance as much as political persuasion.  It has me wondering what kind of petit bourgeois organization might get away with these exorbitant charges. The answer is the Labour Party, obviously very much New labour judging by these prohibitive tariffs. Already I'm starting to wonder why I ever rejoined the party; having been an activist throughout most of the 1960's and 70's (and a reluctant hanger on in the eighties) the advent of the Blair machine alienated me completely but, I had begun to hope that it may one day regain its soul!

The party obviously can have little appeal to, or understanding of, the economically challenged in our society. Perhaps the party hierarchs consider poverty to be that state wherein one is reduced to the state of being a single Porsche household.

****************************


15.49hrs. I have just posted a rather more upbeat post, primarily a video, entitled Golden Rain on 'Mal's Murmurings'

a complication of ailments

If only I could make sense of it or, better still, describe it in more tangible terms, that would perhaps make an accurate diagnosis more likely. It would even help if it was understood what kind of investigation / observation may be an aid to acquiring such a diagnosis.

Today is a classic case of the hard to define condition, a day when I've felt distinctly queasy and ill at ease, painfully so for a considerable portion of that time. A nagging chest pain, at times acutely sharp at others more like a dull deep bruise, sits atop occasional abdominal spasms. My head at times feels giddily hollow, a leadenly floating  balloon rather than a helium filled one. Sundry long standing gastroenterological ailments may well be behind many of my other symptoms but there, the frustration is an inability to find their cause.

As someone who suffers with the crippling muscle fatigue, muscle spasms, cognitive disturbance, and even tenderness of glands, associated with the neurological condition ME, it is all too easy to ascribe each new (or even apparently randomly recurrent) ailment to this underlying condition. Come to think of it, different individuals will experience distictive variants of the dis-ease; even a "sudden onset" condition finds its home in a body which already has its own history, pre-existing ailments and vulnerabilities. Perhaps, indeed probably, a body with a predominantly neurological illness can easily fall prey to other non-neurological complications.

what a difference a day makes

The contrast (compared to "heigh-ho heigh-ho to A&E we go" - yesterday's posting on Mal's Murmurings) coudn't have been greater; last night I slept solidly from before midnight until at least 4.30am and then, completely unannounced, drifted back into the arms of Morpheus for a further spell. By 8.00am I'm starting to feel really quite refreshed, an unfamiliar morning experience of late. After listening to a 1958 episode of 'The Goon Show' and a couple of comedic programmes of a much more recent vintage (courtesy BBC Radio 7), I released myself from the duvet lair and ventured kitchenwards.

First item on the agenda was preparation of a casserole, in readiness for tonight's guests; peppered chicken in a creamy green and yellow pepper and mushroom sauce, leaving the par-boiling of the potatoes for a little later part of the day.

Next on the agenda, a little stroll down to 'Open Church' for coffee and biscuits, and a little light socializing. An unfortunately familiar sharply bruising sensation around the chest and ribs, and the cramping spasms (partially alleviated by my early morning dose of tramadol) in the lower limbs, proved of little hindrance to my little jaunt. 

Unlike yesterday, discomfiture levels at the moment are quite minimal; if only it would remain that way!

crog-like froaking and coval dorchs

 A new post, entitled "not for the faint hearted or weak stomached ...!" can be found on 'Mals Murmurings'.

almost caught myself apologizing

Once again, and quite irrationally, I'm feeling guilty at not having posted a blog for a goodly number of days; it's not as if anyone out there is dependent on a regular fix of Sinna Luvva's words. My first thought is always one of how lazy I've been, ignoring the sundry other purposes to which my limited stamina reserves have been applied.

Perhaps I should concentrate on how many things I've been able to manage / achieve in spite of the sundry discomforting ailments my flesh is heir to. The removal, cleaning, and subsequent repositioning, of the large ornamental rock from the 180 litre aquarium requires a few rather awkward manouevres which always requires a much greater effort than one would anticipate, has now been carried out for the first time in many months. In the past few weeks, I've also got back into a more regular gravel vacuuming routine for the same aquarium and, I've finally regained control of the necessary filtration changes to maintain the best water quality.

Meantime, Callie is back in the quarantine tank receiving treatment for a bit of finrot, a condition that won't have been helped by the bullying behaviour of Reggie, a considerably larger female fantail goldfish. Admittedly my first (guilt) reaction was that I'd been neglectful of water conditions in the main aquarium during a recent protracted period of ill health (beyond my routinely irritating ailments).

Having got myself back into maintenance routines, I became aware of the need to replace the lighting tubes in both aquariums, a task now resolved but unfortunately not inexpensively so. It's amazing how easy it is to fail to note the gradual diminishing light quality of the fluorescent tubes; that could probably account for some of the recently experienced more prominent algae problems.

In the wider world, much pottering about in the garden has brought about some almost noticeable transformations - perhaps it's time to polish up my halo! And, as if that wasn't enough, I've even managed a modest amount of socializing, easily worth the almost inevitable (albeit of a more moderate nature than anticpated) degree of achingly exhausted setback.

Perhaps I will, eventually, get back into the blogging habit.

Web-Spinner

Back To Normal

i seem to have fallen back onto the ailment roundabout, fortunately it has not yet transmogrified into a full rollercoaster ride at this point. Persistent irritations, of the over production of acid and mucus variety, still make their presence felt alongside the, probably related, ache and bruise sensations (with the occasional sharp nudge) around the chest and lower ribcage area.

Now the leaden ache of the lower limbs has reaffirmed its presence, as has a gnawing ache in wrist and armpits which seems to have re-appeared on a whim and then hangs around for indeterminate / unpredictable periods of time. Even as I sit and type this I'm finding it necessary to take breaks wherein I place both forearms behind my back and push my shoulders firmly back on the comfortably supporting high back chair.

Having had a little stroll down to Open Church, this morning, my legs began to ache as if I'd been on a marathon trek; to be honest they weren't really painful, just more of a gnawing discomfort. The thought occurred that maybe they needed a further stretch so, with the aid of my trusty walking stick, I set off on a brisk walk around the block. Please note that I "set off on a brisk walk", I can't make any claims to having sustained any degree of briskness beyond the 100 metre mark. I thought at least it would prove good for the morale and, it hasn't made the gnawing ache any worse or better.

By late afternoon, an additional dose of lansoprazole (to cut down on acid production) and a couple more tramadol capsules served to alleviate the more extreme edge of discomfort. That extra bit of relief allowed me to get on with preparing a meal in time for my beloved's return from work, and even enabled me to enjoy accompanying ma belle for a grocery shop at Waitrose post dining!

A Special Friend

I've started this post several times but, whatever I started to express seemed somehow irrelevant. It's not that any of my postings has much intrinsic merit, only that which a particular reader may put upon it alongside its utilitarian value, to the writer, as a discipline which places some kind of order or value on the (recorded) aspects of their everyday experiences.

No matter what I set out to express or recount this time, one primary event seemed to overshadow it. After a few rollercoaster years of brain tumour induced ill health Kate, Cathy's lifetime friend , finally lost her battle shortly after her 30th birthday, and nine months after the birth of her wonderful son Joseph. There are times that I consider myself "good with words" but then at others, on occasions like this, the appropriate words just won't fall into place. Come to that I can't even wrestle them into place!

I can't see how anyone who ever met Kate could fail to be touched by the warmth of her smile, a heartwarming smile which she could still display, even whilst undergoing some of the most distressing and disorienting effects of her illness. At times she seemed to defy the expectations of the doctors who treated her; a sturdy determination underlay a vulnerable frame as she once more fulfilled the desire to be back home with her husband and son, rather than laying in a hospital bed.

Cathy feels as if she has lost a part of herself; this is a loss for which there can never be a replacement, a very special friendship - that of kindred spirits - since pre-schooldays. My thoughts and prayers go out to all her family. The world is a poorer place for her passing but, the community of saints has been greatly enriched.

blue tits on feeder

observed from the kitchen door

Red Admiral - video

Just another random observation chez nous

selection of paintings by Malcolm Evison - video

Which why what how is it - who knows + Autumn Garden

There are always more questions than answers, especially so it seems when it comes to health matters. It even seems to be the case that doctors increasingly ask the patient what they think is wrong and what action should be taken. Maybe it's a problem of just getting to see a locum but, the issue seems to go further than that. Whilst I'm looking for answers, or even probable explanations, the GP seems to expect me to recommend a course of action based on my complete lack of knowledge. Yesterday I had an appointment with a GP, following on from a continuing (almost continuous) bouts of extreme gastric discomfort and also the attempted treatment of a sore-looking patch of skin on my right lower limb.

Anyway, the stomach biopsy results had finally been received and disappointingly, but not altogether unexpectedly, proved negative; why I should have the recurring, intermittently painful and regularly discomforting gastro-oesophogeal reflux problems without any apparent cause is something of a mystery. Following the morning's consultation I'm once again temporarily doubling up my lansoprazole intake, to 2x30mg capsules per day. On enquiring whether I should take both capsules pre-breakfast, or take one later in the day, the locum suggested that although it's a once daily medication, if taking them at different times proves effective then follow that course of action; I like that -  once daily medication to be taken twice a day!

Next, to the "topical" treatment of the sore on my leg. As the recommended ten days treatment (in fact extended to twelve days), with betanovate, has produced no dramatic result I wondered whether to extend the twice daily application period. Once more, the locum asked me whether I would prefer to do that or should he write a referral letter to dermatology, it being probably unusual that the steroid cream had not cleared it up. Not being a medical expert - I don't know what's the best course of action but, I would prefer  to steer clear of dermatology for a little while after my rather dramatic recent visit (unless a further carcinoma appears on my torso), so I opted to try a little further betanovate treatment. If the "sore" doesn't clear up, as it should if it were discoid eczema, there's a possibility it may be bowen's disease. I opted to continue with the "topical" treatment for a further week but, can't help having a sneaky feeling that I may need a referral after all; I suppose that the recent basal cell carcinoma episode makes me feel (rationally or not) that it could be a squamous cell carcinoma.

All in all though, after my requisite eleven to twelve hours bed-rest/lessness, I manage to enjoy my days and, with the aid of my trusty walking stick, manage to get up a fair head of steam as I take a stroll down to Open Church or even just around the block.

Although the weather is somewhat temperamental, at the moment, I'm still finding plenty of suitable occasions to spend time in the garden, if only to be busily doing nothing in the course of these minutes and hours. There's an abundance of apples on each of our trees, three different varieties, many of the branches appearing overladen even after the autumn's swirling breezes have delivered a fair quantity of 'windfalls'. The heathers are also putting on a wonderful display.

Refreshment and Renewal

After those all too recent weeks when I was so far out of it, in that realm of drifting hollow giddiness and fluctuating levels of nausea, each days activities have taken on a sense of refreshing excitement. Of course recent days have been even more special, as my beloved hasn't been at work; we have been able to enjoy so many more hours of quite simply basking in each others company. It's as if that "being in love" sensation is constantly being replenished; not only does my love for Helen grow (impossible as it may seem) ever deeper but so does my whole enthusiasm for life, exhaustion permitting.

The rapidity with which days, weeks, months, and even years, pass by is sort of frightening. There's always so much to do and appreciate that time itself becomes a luxury, something to be caressed and indulged to the full. We've especially enjoyed Cathy enabled visits of her godson Joseph, an energetic and super inquisitive nine month old chortling bundle of joy! His eagerness to observe, and respond, to all that goes on around him proves quite infectious; it's almost as if it reinforces ones own need to ensure that we're not missing out on anything of potential value, a craving for fresh experience.

Although we've not made any effort to "get away", during ma belle's holiday, we have rung the occasional change to routine via visits to local restaurants, cafes and garden centres, as well as taking advantage of some fine weather to do a bit more planting, tidying and reorganizing of the garden. To me, part of the beauty of this work in the garden is preserving a "natural" rather than more cosmetically structured  appearance.

Friday lunchtime, on a whim, we ventured down to Brio's a reasonably local bar and eatery, even within my meagre walking range, where I settled for one of my favourite italian dishes, linguine marinara, whilst my beloved selected and enjoyed the pescatrice con speck (monkfish parcelled in speck ham).

On Saturday, late afternoon, I prepared a meal which served us for both Sunday and Tuesday lunch. It essentially utilized a 'Madras' curry paste, in addition to my own unique spice mixture, which infused the beef meatballs, sliced new potatoes, mushrooms, yellow and green peppers and tinned tomatoes; on each occasion I served it with saffron rice and a side dish of broccoli. Last evening we were invited for an evening meal at Janet (the only one of Helen's siblings who lives locally) & Graham's home where the wonderfully succulent slices of roast, lamb, served with roast potatoes and some home grown veg proved a real treat.

Today, we attended a coffee morning at Burnbridge, where the proceeds were for the MRDF (Methodist Relief & Development Fund); a guest speaker, and his wife, provided a concise and informative account of some of the projects in which they've been involved in Nepal.

An evening out, swiftly followed by a morning event, has proved somewhat demanding on my familiarly diminished stamina reserves but, I wouldn't have wanted to miss either event. A brief unsolicited afternoon nap imposed itself upon me but, I can still find time to rejoice in this day the Lord has made.

garden delights

Bright sunshine but not too hot, just my sort of day even though there were times when it was necessary to retreat into the house for a respite from our overheated toil.

It's been wonderful spending a bit of time in the garden with my beloved, doing a bit of tidying up, transplanting items to more appropriate sites etc. but, even more importantly, taking time out to sit and observe the active enviroment. A spider's activity, creating and mooring a web between three flimsy breeze swayed reeds proved most entertaining and, I managed to catch some video footage of this engineering feat as well as a few close-up still shots of the engineer.

Both web and spider were wonderfully backlit from our vantage point and, it was amazing to note how swiftly some of the neighbourhood midges became hopelessly entangled in the arachnids handiwork. Guess the spider was relieved that all that work was proving cost effective time and motion wise.

A short while later I was thrilled to see, and hear, a couple of longtailed tits in the garden, the first time I've observed any here since before the long hard winter. Obviously as autumn approaches they're busy genning up on the locations of local feeding stations.

An Ordinary Privileged Life

I seem to have been so busy enjoying life, since my appetite (for food and a few other perks) returned, that I'm left wondering where the time has gone. To be able, once again, to enjoy cooking feels like such a tremendous privilege (and, I suppose that as part of the global community we really do belong to a privileged group insofar as we don't have to worry about where our next meal is coming from). Even simple chores, like watering the tomato plants or giving the lawn a quick trim, have taken a whole new dimension - no longer chores but rather pleasurable activities. I've even managed to catch up with some essential ( and probably overdue) filter cleaning and replacement in the 180 litre aquarium. Come to that, I even got around to vacuuming the gravel as well sorting out the distressed aquatic plants.

The most important recent event is the commencement of my beloved's holiday, by which I mean she has a few days off work! Earlier in the year, we had contemplated another visit to the south coast, to stay with my brother and his wife, but having had frequent difficulties with travelling (even locally at times) ever since the onset of M.E., recent health setbacks have definitely ruled out this prospect. Mind you, there's always plenty of sorting out to do in both the garden and the house; fortunately, we enjoy each others company, so I'm really looking forward to quite simply basking in the close proximity of ma belle.

At lunchtime today we popped out to Cafe Culture, for a delicious light lunch, before heading over to the aquatic shop where we duly acquired five additional white cloud, and three golden, minnows to gently introduce to our aquarium. It's wonderful to note how swiftly they became part of a pre-existing shoal, with only an infrequent display of bickering!

Having prepared a casserole, for tomorrow's lunch, we settled down to enjoy a recording of the Rodgers & Hammerstein Promenade Concert which was being shown on BBC2 - a really fun start to a Bank Holiday weekend.

Much Ado About Something

There's nothing quite so rewarding as a good burp! At least following on from today's gastroscopy, during which some air is pumped into the intestines, it felt really good to expel some of the excess via the facial orifice. Mind you, as time went by, I did also find that other orifices helped alleviate some of the pressure.

I decided against having the sedative injection, wondering if it may adversely react with my M.E. sensitivities, whilst simultaneously wondering whether I would be sufficiently relaxed to perform the appropriate co-ordination of swallowing and nasal breathing, if I didn't have it. The wonderful thing is that I was ready to go home within a few minutes of the op having been performed and, able to eat and drink normally one hour after the throat spray anaesthetic had been administered.

Apart from one or two involuntary gagging responses, as the camera was manouevred around, the experience wasn't too bad at all. The exploration didn't disclose any abnormalities but, a biopsy from the stomach was taken to find out if there's any kind of bacterial infection.

It seems quite strange to me that one can experience so many spasmodic intensely discomforting / disconcerting symptoms for which further exploration is unable to find a cause. I am so grateful for the National Health Service that I, and countless others, are able to undergo these procedures without having to worry about whether their bank balance will permit such activities to take place.

contrary impulses

After a slow, lightly grey-cast morning, come noontide and we're greeted with clear blue sunlit skies. Large whites flitter and dance around the lavender and aconitums whilst the peacock variety of butterfly seem to make the buddleia their focus of attention. The sun-soaked pale beige shed wall plays host to others of the peacock line as they idly stretch out their wings in a posture of submission to the sun god.

It's so easy to feel the lure of this sparkling day, to dash out, throwing all caution to the wind,and soak up the radiance through every pore, but then reality bites. I take heed of the warning notes, issued when my carcinoma was diagnosed, seek shade between 11.00am and 3.00pm, always cover up and wear wide-brimmed hats when outdoors ... etc. The strange thing is, with these proscriptions in place, although hot weather has never really suited me - to such an extent that I've remained incapable of understanding the sun-seeking school of holiday making,  I'm just beginning to appreciate that type of yearning!

So, I duly roll down my shirt sleeves, don a sun hat, and stroll down to the pond to feed the goldfish. Open the greenhouse door to be almost overwhelmed by the stifling humid heat that rushes out to greet me. I make my way to the totally shaded arbour seat at the top of the garden, make a mental note of areas that need a little tidying (in preparation for the time when I'll once again be able to perform a few lifting and stretching activities), rest for a brief while before returning to the welcoming bounds of the living room.

That's Progress

After a few days when even ambling up to the garden pond, to scatter a few food sticks for its piscine inhabitants, seemed like an overbearing chore, it was wonderful this morning to quite simply take the time to look around the garden as I performed this task.

A sudden fleet movement, rather too close to my foot-fall for comfort, catches my attention as a perfectly formed froglet, less than the length of my little finger nail (and I've got relatively small hands), leaps across the grassy sward. The sheer abundance of life, both flora and fauna, within the garden's confines is a constant source of joy and amazement - excluding of course the organic deposits left by visiting neighbourhood cats.

Anyway, having fed the fish, I move into the greenhouse to gather a few more fully ripened tomatoes and, taking due care not to overstretch, manage to water all the plants. Next task is repleneshing sundry bird-feeders although, I must admit that my attention to this is a more hit and miss business at this time, especially so during most recent days / weeks (when it has been more spasmodic than would be my intention), than is essential in Winter and Spring months.

I seem to have been catching up with my sleep requirement the past few nights, retiring to bed at an earlier hour, and emerging from the duvet lair, at least partially refreshed, some thirteen hours later. Today, I've so far managed to eat a small breakfast of a boiled egg and toast and, enjoyed some smoked haddock with new potatoes at lunch time. That's progress!

A Visual Blessing

Recent days haven't been that good, to be honest, nothing I can really put my finger on; a generalized discomfort has prevented much other activity apart from less than routine fish-feeding, bird-feeding, tomato watering, and regular re-orienting of my seated position.

Strange how a generalized griping sense of dis-ease seems to emanate from discomfort in either a little finger, or more usually the armpit. Only when I pin my upper arms tight to my torso and sit back with forearms pinned behing my lower back does this discomfort ease. Fortunately these phases pass but, at present they too frequently return interfering with my appetite and much other attempted activity.

This morning, after a fulfillment of bed-rest, sat in the living room sipping at a wake-up beverage, I observed the following simple display which I posted as a tweet (line breaks of course omitted) - I've already posted it on 'Mal's Factory' but thought I'd share it here, to show that even in my temporary slumps into a pathetic despondency, it's still wonderful to be a part of this amazing creation:

I see the lavender
transformed
into a fluttering

of butterfly wings.
Large whites
re-emphasize

the colour
of their perching
bloom.

Malcolm Evison

12 August 2010

The Absolute (arm)Pits

Squirming wimp; that's a role I seem to play really well, trouble is I'm not acting. The multifarious manifestations of dis-ease have really found a fresh discomforting expression this past twenty-four hours plus. That sensation when one finds it impossible to discover, or maintain, a comfortable seated posture; if I was simply observing my wriggling activity I'd swear it was a bad case of worms. [Fortunately, that's an ailment that's escaped my attention.]

What has returned with a vengeance is that aching discomfort in the armpits, the one where I have to squeeze my arms tightly to my side in a first attempt to regain a tolerable posture, before placing my hands beneath my thighs as I sit back; a griping sense of nausea then takes over. A short while later, the giddy light-headedness returns and the legs start to feel like they're made of some gelatinous lead alloy.

No sooner had we arrived at the local takeaway, last evening, than ma belle had to escort her pale faced partner back home. By the time she'd returned to collect the ordered meal, any inkling of an appetite had disappeared from yours truly and, the smell of food made me turn green around the gills. One thing I can never be found guilty of is doing things by halves - my disorientation is a complete happening.

Later in the evening I regained my composure and managed a portion of the (microwave reheated) food. By bedtime had arrived, I found myself relaxedly wide awake for the total bed-rest period. Late morning I went up for a little rest, discovering that laying on my left hand side allowed my torso to feel more comfortably at home in the world.

Sunshine and Blanket Stitch

Many people seem to worship the sun, so much so that they'll travel halfway around the globe to find a suitable place to spend their holiday sunbathing. Others, like me, have difficulty coping with very hot weather and, only on a few occasions have exposed my torso to the sun's rays, primarily at the time in the seventies when as a mature student I had a regular vacation job doing gardening. There were a few later occasions when I allowed my body to be exposed to the rays for a couple of hours, nothing out of the ordinary I would have thought, but it was only many years later that various warts and moles began to make their presence noticed.

An abundance of solar keratoses started to mar this fair skinned torso and, at times, a little cryotherapy was deemed necessary to remove the more troublesome of the little critters. Then, having noticed blood on a T-shirt which I'd been wearing the previous day, and during an enforced overnight stay in hospital, I asked my GP to take a look at my back and she immediately referred me to the dermatology clinic.

In earlier blogs, I've already commented on that referral, and the generally excellent treatment proferrred by the much maligned NHS. The basal cell carcinoma (rodent ulcer) was removed last Wednesday, at which time I was informed that there's a good possibility of a further rodent ulcer occurring within the next few years. Just by way of warning my readers of the deleterious effect of UV rays on fair skinned people, I decided to post a couple of views of my back, including a fine example of the surgeons blanket stitch (which has to remain in place for 14 days)

As stated earlier, I've never been much of a sun worshipper but, were I ever to consider exposing any part of my body to the sun's rays my minimum protection would be a high factor block (SPF15+). My beloved has been instructed on the importance of observing / detecting changes to any of my disfiguring growths.

 "Mad dogs and Englishmen ..." may "go out in the midday sun" but this mad Englishman will do his darnedest to avoid it.

exercising caution

Cautious, that's the only word for it; last night every move I made, as I lay abed, was carried out with an excessive degree of caution. It's not at all unusual for me to spend many hours lying awake, frequently changing my position, rolling over from left side to back, back to right side, arms stretched out, arms used as a prop for my resting head - the possible postural permutations are immense. Last night, however, I attempted to restrict any stretching movements, as my freshly sutured back felt rather stiff and necessarily unwilling to stretch.[At least I was able to enjoy listening to 'Through The Night' (BBC Radio 3) between 2am and 5am, as I lay awake; Brahms, Mozart, Haydn, Bach, Verdi and,a new discovery for me, the Croatian composer Lhotka, provided a relaxing background to my restlessly creative thoughts.]

Yesterday I attended the Dermatology clinic for the excision of a basal cell carcinoma from the middle of my back. The operation turned out to take more time than the norm, extending beyond forty minutes. At least I was able to chat with the consultant as he performed the surgery.

The tumour was somewhat larger than anticipated, the hole from which it was excised having a diameter in excess of a 50 pence coin and, a little arterial bleed required a considerable degree of staunching, sundry blood vessels needing to be tied off and / or cauterised. By the time the operation was completed, my chest, back, hair, beard and hands all needed cleaning; amazing how far and wide a 'little' bleed spreads its message. A considerable stretch tension exists around the sutures, owing to the size of the wound, and we've been told to expect a bleed. My understanding is that the sutured wound is about 8cm in length.

The importance of keeping the wound clean, clean vaseline being applied twice daily (in ideal circumstances). At this point I have to point out that my beloved can be quite squeamish, already evident as she was called into the surgery to be told how to keep the wound clean, but regrettably, it's impossible (where it's situated) for me to treat it myself. If I'm to take a shower, vaseline has to be applied both before and afterwards and, I'm also somewhat doubtful that it would be wise to remain seated in the shower for my normal duration. Admittedly I don't always have the stamina to cope with taking a shower, even when I feel a bit more able to stretch.

It's important that I remember to avoid lifting and any strenuous activity during the first four weeks as, any stetching of of the wound can affect the healing process. I'd have loved to have had that reason / excuse to avoid games, and the attention of our sadistic PE teachers, in my schooldays. Perhaps it's a blessing that, since succumbing to M.E. in 2003, I've already been forced into pacing myself and (whenever possible) avoiding any strenuous exertion.

Suddenly, I find myself taking stock of my activities / capabilities once again; just a few days ago I was lugging around compost and sacks of wild bird feed. I'm even going to be careful about watering the tomato plants in the greenhouse as the plants positions necessitate a good deal of stretching; I've a feeling my beloved may choose to perform that task for the duration.

It really is amazing how much we take our body's daily exertions for granted; only when caution has to be applied, prior to any action, do we become truly aware of our routine practises and capabilities.

Aspects of a wind groomed Garden

just a randomized reminder of yesterday's brief amble in our wind stirred garden

Website Update

I've just posted an additional selection of poems, by yours truly, on our New LUV4SINNERS Website under the inspiring title of 'More POETRY by Malcolm Evison'

This day the Lord has made

I've really been enjoying this day the Lord has made; at least I've appreciated it all since my belated (11.00am) emergence into the new day. My beloved had headed off to chapel at least an hour before I overcame my soporific stupor. Speaking of soporifics, the aid to sleep prescribed by my GP doesn't seem to work in the expected way; the recommendation is that I take the dose one hour before bedtime so, I try to take it somewhere around 10.00pm but the effects, if any, rarely kick in before the early morning hours. By the time my beloved emerges from her restorative nights sleep, she usually finds a heavily drowsy shattered partner slipping in and out of daytime awareness!

As today's service was a farewell to her minister, ma belle drove home after the service to collect me in time for the farewell lunch (described by ma belle as "A Farewell" on her 'Bright Light' blog  for Shaun  

It was good to see Shaun again, and have a little chat, and I was made to feel most welcome at this special event commemorating his 11 year ministry at Wesley. Wesley was the chapel attended regularly by my parents, prior to  circumstances committed them to the care of their respective residential and nursing homes, and Shaun presided at both of their affirmative funeral services.

All in, I spent the best part of three hours at Wesley today; anyone who knows me well will be quite surprised that such socializing endeavour remained pleasurable, rather than an ordeal, for me. I'm as surprised as they may well be! Maybe one of these days I'll manage to pluck up the courage and stamina to attend for a service one of these days.

This evening Helen is out leading worship at another chapel in the circuit, the first of four consecutive Sunday services her local preacher duties are requiring of her, whilst I settle down to watch 'Orchestra United' and 'Amish World's Squarest Teenagers' (both C4).  

how strange the change ...

How swiftly things change, at least on a superficial level. Although the cause of the sundry ailments my flesh has been heir to of late is somewhat elusive, the symptoms have somehow been alleviated by ... unknown!

What a difference a day makes; after yesterday’s ropiest of starts, as the day progressed, my appetite (for food) commenced a restorative process. After days of picky snacking, and with the comforting presence of ma belle, by early afternoon I felt fully able to contemplate a real lunch; the swiftly prepared baked salmon, served with new potatoes, brocolli  and beans, seemed like a real treat and I even enjoyed a post-meal shared pot of Earl Grey without any adverse reaction. By this time I’m beginning to suspect that some of my most recent discomfort has been a reaction to the Amoxicillin prescribed last Saturday but, I doubt whether I can hold that responsible for the mornings flow of tears.

Late afternoon I got in to see the locum doctor, at my GP’s surgery, and he proved to be a good listener – to me the most important  prerequisite for any GP. After a few minutes, having checked my medical history, he asked whether I felt a need to go back on Citalopram or whether something to help me regain a reasonable sleep pattern would be most appropriate. I settled for the latter as, quite honestly, with the exception of those spontaneous re-active outbreaks like that experienced yesterday morning, my general disposition (even allowing for the aggravating dis-ease I’ve been experiencing of late) is pretty positive.

To assist with my sleep he has prescribed Trazadone ( which I notice is an anti-depressant) but only in a very low dosage, one 50mg capsule to be taken an hour before bedtime. After the first dose I haven’t noticed much change but, at least I had no recourse to wee small hours radio listening. Although my beloved had left a glass of water at my bedside, before she left for work at 7.30am, it wasn’t until 9.30 that I was sufficiently awake to utilize it as I swallowed my cocktail of lansoprazole, tramadol and amocxicillin. Removing myself from the duvet lair, at around 10.00am, I felt really quite refreshed – a relatively unfamiliar early morning sensation - and by shortly after 11.00am had corralled the necessary stamina to manage a quite brisk walk down to 'Open Church'.

When my physio visited, earlier this afternoon, after a while spent in conversation she applied the acupuncture needles in positions most conducive to aiding relaxation and recuperation.

and today the tears

And today is the day the tears start flowing. Suddenly, for no apparent reason, a tingling around the eyes and a sense of melancholy. I brush the tears aside, take my courage in both hands (and legs) decide to try a little walk up the road. For the last couple of days such efforts have proved abortive but, it's worth a try; anything's worth a try just in an attempt to overcome this randomly imposed suffocating sense of isolation.

I suspect that the antibiotics, prescribed on Saturday, are having an adverse effect on my already bothersome intestines; even attempting to consume a hot beverage seems like a (time) trial (of the how long before I start feeling nauseous variety). Yesterday seemed somewhat better than the previous day, less of the floatingly giddy light-headedness and, managing infrequent snacks as and when the desire arose. So, things are improving but, after a better night's rest, I've sunk into this pit of moroseness. As I write this, I'm laughing at my pitiful self; in attempting to express how despairingly low I'd started to feel my spirits are somehow lifted.

I'm sure some of the cause is the waiting game, waiting for the gastroscopy and then for the results, awaiting notification of when I'll be in to have the rodent ulcer excised but, most importantly, like a BP CEO I'm wondering when I'll get my life back! The fact that I've scarcely enjoyed a really restful nights sleep, since my overnight hospitalization five weeks ago, certainly doesn't help.

Anyway, I set off for my brief walk and met an old friend. Immediately the "how are you" question was asked the tear ducts shifted into overflow mode and, I had no option but to amble back home. Called my beloved on the telephone, as she was putting in a few extra hours at work - Wednesday being her usual day off - and thankfully she just finished off her current task in hand and headed homewards. Ma belle has arranged, and will be chauffering me to, an appointment at my GP's this afternoon. I feel as if a bit of reactive depression is setting in, a response to the sundry ailments, and probable reactions to medication, that have beset me over the past several weeks.

At least with ma belle by my side, and the old faithful walking stick in my other hand, I gathered the confidence to stroll up to the local shops, the furthest I've ventured for the past few days, without feeling too overawed by the entailed exertion.

Tomorrow my physio is due to visit me to administer the therapeutic needles and, I'm hoping that will aid the relaxation process both physically and mentally.

Salvaging The Wreckage

I quite honestly don’t know what’s going on; much as I hate visiting doctors, and hospitals, my body seems to have a contrary impulse which makes such visits essential.


The most recent such visit, after another little setback, was to the GP out of hours Clinic at the District Hospital on Saturday afternoon. I’d suddenly found myself overwhelmed by a head-spinning giddiness coupled with a griping sense of nausea invoking bloatedness. To add to this discomfort, my lower limbs simultaneously took on a leaden rubbery sensation, stubbornly refusing to be comforted by any re-positioning I attempted. The now familiar gnawing bruised sensation in the lower ribcage and abdominal region once again reasserted itself.



I have to admit though that it was the head-spinning giddiness that caused me the greatest concern. When I went to lie down, a feeling of nausea forced me to return to a seated position but, within a few moments, I needed to lay down once more to prevent the room spinning giddyingly out of control. I generally just felt crap, alternating between clammy overheating and cold shudders.



Having telephonically contacted the out of hours helpline, a doctor suggested that I get my OH to drive me down to the clinic at the hospital. The clinic seemed extremely busy, the best part of two hours passed before I got to see a GP. Having checked my blood pressure, which proved normal, he examined my eyes, ears, nose and throat. His diagnosis was severe sinusitis and an infection in the left ear and, prescribed a course of antibiotics and directed us to the nearest dispensary, which happened to be on the route home. In this instance I have to admit that the diagnosis made complete sense of sundry recent symptoms, acknowledged primarily by my attempts to ignore them.



It did seem rather odd that I was experiencing an extremely unpleasant variant of the symptoms that I would, normally, have blamed on smoking too much; having not smoked a cigarette, even lacking the desire to do so, for the past four and a half weeks that sort of unreason could no longer prevail.



Since succumbing to ME, in 2003, it’s easy to attribute any sense of dis-ease to that wretched overall condition. Whilst awaiting a gastroscopy, an investigative response to my various digestive tract problems, I’ve now developed a tendency to blame any other ailments on my intestinal abnormalities. It’s not only medical professionals who have difficulty in looking at the whole person; it’s proving tricky enough to switch my own focus away from the currently dominant site of dis-ease!

A Change of Perspective

Yesterday was one of those days of which I don’t wish to be reminded whilst, simultaneously, it reminded me of just how far I’ve travelled from the regular aches, pains and general discomfort that seemed to be my daily lot for several years.

Just what went wrong isn’t possible to answer, apart from the fact that, after a dramatically un-restful night, I decided to get up early. This decision was made in the belief that forsaking my usual lie-in, denying myself my normal 10 – 12 hours bed rest requirement,   would somehow ensure that the following night would prove much more restful!

By early afternoon I was struggling to fight off that light-headed nauseous feeling of total exhaustion whilst my body somehow refused to let me have the necessary nap. Concentration was at total zero, the radio played away in the background and I found myself wrestling to grasp any meaning from the words being uttered. I shuffled myself about, desperately seeking a comfortable posture in which to relax but, the effort seemed in vain. That’s when the griping clamminess began as I alternated between overheating and shivering.

 A sharp stabbing bruised sensation danced around my chest cavity, left right, centre, top and bottom randomly alternating as recipients of the phantom knuckles blows.  The bottom of the ribcage sought detachment from the throbbing ache otherwise known as the abdominal region, it felt as if it should be decorated with perforation marks allowing one to remove it at will.

On several occasions it was as if I could positively feel the colour draining from my face, although having said that I began to wonder whether one can ‘positively’ feel a negative! In the evening as my beloved applied emollient cream to my back my skin and flesh seemed ultra-sensitive, the lightest touch producing a nauseating discomfort but, later in the evening as she applied steroidal cream around the periphery of the rodent ulcer this queasy reaction had fortunately subsided.

The night proved much more restful than had the preceding one, although in the wee small hours (from approximately 2.30AM) I enjoyed a relaxing listen to Radio 3 for just over an hour before drifting back to an intermittent visit to the land of nod.

Having visited my GP, for a pre-arranged appointment, on Tuesday she contacted the hospital to arrange a endoscopy. By yesterday morning an appointment had already been arranged for this to take place in four weeks time. Once again I’m impressed by the NHS. The doctor’s hoping that I’ll be able to reduce my ppi’s (currently lansoprazole 30mg twice per day)switching me to ranitidine 150mg twice daily for a fortnight before the endoscopic investigation takes place.

After yesterday’s extreme discomfort and agitation, my regularly familiar aches and pains seem quite simply to reflect what it means to be in the very best of health!

taking stock

When you've been feeling somewhat below par, for any period of time, it's amazing how much, with only a marginal improvement or remission in one's condition, one begins to really appreciate some of the simplest everyday activities. A walk up to the bus stop followed by a short bus journey, without any sense of unease or discomfort, feels quite wonderful; even shopping for groceries becomes more of an enjoyable experience.

It never helps to think about how things were before one's health took a serious nose dive (some seven years ago in my case); it's far more important to celebrate a present ability to feel positively human. My current portion of discomfort is much reduced from that which has, far too frequently, intervened between myself and  the best of health.

thoughts on evolution

Whilst watching 'Wild Wales' (BBC2) I couldn't help but note how wonderful nature is, in all its variety. The thought then suddenly struck me that nature also contains Tory cabinet ministers. Being a forgiving kind of chap, I prepared myself to acknowledge the possibility that lower life forms may evolve at a much slower rate!

And today it's dermatology

I seem to be a quite regular client of the NHS these days, what with visits to A&E, overnight stays in hospital, various appointments with my GP, visits from the physio to administer acupuncture. What a privilege it is to have this wonderful service; one can only trust that the service will be protected / preserved from the worst ravages the ConDems hope to commit upon it.

Just 12 days ago my GP referred me to the Dermatology clinic which I visited this afternoon. The consultant immediately diagnosed a rodent ulcer (basal cell carcinoma) and is arranging for it to be excised, under local anaesthetic, sometime in the next four weeks. Meanwhile he has prescribed a steroidal cream to be applied to an inflamed area on my back surrounding the ulcer. I find it truly impressive the speed at which arrangements are falling in to place; the National Health Service, freely available to all, and so easily taken for granted, is a gem to be cherished and protected.

Mal's Picturebox and identity crisis!

I've just posted a few snapshots, taken in the garden this afternoon, on 'Mal's Picturebox' . I've been unable to identify the wildflower in the picture below and would be grateful if anyone could help. There is no basal rosette to this flower.

click on image to view larger copy

swift setback

The comfort referred to in the previous post proved rather short-lived; last night was one of the most discomfortingly restless experienced since last weeks night in hospital. My chest felt as if it was being sharply knuckle punched from the inside followed by a numb dull bruised sensation; these sensations, alongside a sense of fragile hollowness, discomforted me for many nocturnal hours. At other times, and alongside this, an invisible band seemed to be applied tourniquet fashion around my upper abdominal region; pillows were frequently re-arranged in a somewhat futile attempt at finding a more comfortable posture.

A visit to the GP was in order this morning and, it was decided to double my dose of lansoprazole as she felt that much of the discomfort could be acid related. As she examined the abdominal region she was somewhat surprised by how excruciatingly tender much of that locale seemed to be. Anyway, I have to go back and see her in a couple of weeks to see if any further investigations may be in order. It has also been arranged for me to visit the skin clinic as a particular warty growth on my back has turned angry and needs to be checked out; basically, it seems, I'm just falling apart.

On the positive side, an additional dose of lansoprazole taken late-afternoon helped some of the afternoons more excruciating symptoms subside - even the sense of giddy wooziness has gone into hibernation!

still snacking after all these years

Difficult to know whether I'm recovering, and what I'm recovering from; I'm certainly feeling a little more comfortable than I was at the beginning of the week! Muscles in chest, shoulder and lower limbs still feel rather achily tender but, definitely more comfortable than they were at the weekend. I'm really feeling relaxed after this afternoon's acupuncture session, though not in any spaced-out sense and, actually enjoyed a bit of grocery shopping with ma belle before we dined this evening.

Doesn't the word "dined" sound rather glamorous, much more romantic than "had something to eat"? Actually it was a very lazy re-heat job, a Waitrose Indian meal for two - chicken jalfrezi, chicken makhani, aloo sag, naan bread and pilau rice. Although I often devise my own curry dishes, I rarely bother to make more than one variety (usually a hybrid one) of curry at any particular time, the extra variety in these lazy banquets is a rather enticing experience - like a super snack! Much as I enjoy cooking and occasionally - emotional stamina permitting - dining out, at heart I'm much more of a snacker than a substantial meal type of guy.

Now doesn't that all sound somewhat boring - even that's just the kind of guy I am!

Mammon - a poem

tetchiness abounds

Chest and shoulder muscles are really playing up, the pectoralis major more achingly griping than the deltoids and, as the day goes on I become increasingly tetchy. The heat of the day certainly doesn't help, 28 centigrade at present, as I've never been a hot weather person. Currently we're sat in the back room, curtains drawn, revelling in the cooler air current proferred by an oscillating fan. It's quite strange really, this coolly refreshing synthetic breeze serves to keep me reasonably alert, whilst aching muscles, minor digestive problems, and a muzzy head, keep reminding me of the need to rest.

I've just been trying, to little avail, to catch up with received e-mails but the least distraction from what should be a minimal concentration endeavour makes me feel quite stressed. 'Tis better just to float - wish I could be as laid back as a lot of people think I am - but, for some reason I just tend to keep swimming against the tide!

Attempting to relax is such a wearying business, leaves one without sufficient stamina to simply be. 

I know the garden is the place I should be, the place where I am truly me but, prevailing temperatures militate against my participation in such enjoyable diversions.

surrounded by lights - kept in the dark

It's truly amazing how much, or how little seeming like so much, has happened in the past week. After the gardening exertions of the previous week, everything seemed to be going so well, not even a hint of post-exertional kick back. Sunday morning, woke up and robotically began to apply dermatological cream to my lower limbs when a snapping twinge locked my back mid-rub. Yep, I'm always aware that my back's rather vulnerable, herniated disc and all, but it always takes me by excruciating surprise when it un-elastically responds to the meagre stretches that I've imposed on it.

I swiftly sought the assistance of the old faithful walking stick, for additional support, as I headed downstairs. Extra doses of tramadol were required for the next few days, an essential supplement to the efficacious application of ibuprofen gel. Care had to be taken not to remain seated, for too long, in any particular position, not even on a supportive high back chair, in order to avoid a painful lock down.

Wednesday evening things took a slightly more dramatic turn, around 9.20pm, having spent the evening listening to the radio and catching up with the latter stages of that day's epic Wimbledon set, I was feeling quite shattered. Decided to have a cup of Decaff just before going to bed, took a sip and suddenly felt sick. Simultaneously it felt like a vice was closing in on my chest, right from top of ribcage down to the floaters. A sharp bruised sensation made it difficult to catch my breath and,of course, the more frightening the experience became the more difficult it was to get my breath. I turned simultaneously clammy and totally drained of colour. The paramedics took ecg's and simple prick test to check my blood sugar level; ecg's seemed fine but they could sense my general discomfort and thought I should be checked out at the hospital.

Arrived at A&E just before 10.00pm, had my blood pressure taken a few times and further ecg's. The duty doctor consulted further and decided that I should be admitted for observation. Eventually a bed was found in the acute ward and I was transferred there just after 2.00am, and they  immediately strapped me up to a monitor and told me to get some rest; now that was a tall order, within five minutes blood pressure and temperature were being taken again. By 3.00am the house doctor, from cardiology, came to examine me and told me that I would have further blood samples taken at 9.00am and, if the test was OK (meaning negative) I could go home. Shortly after this visit I was asked whether I'd mind changing to a different bed, an offer I greeted with enthusiasm as the one I was in was most uncomfortable. Around 6.30am, had a visit from the cardio consultant (along with one or two acolytes) and he informed me that he would want a further ecg taken after the blood sample and muttered something about a treadmill test. The noise, lights, and being kept in the dark about what exactly was going on were certainly not at all conducive to restfulness.

Blood samples were taken just after 9.00am and, a further ecg done at around 10.15am, the rest of the time was spent hanging around not knowing exactly what was going on. I'd got out of bed to have a little breakfast but, felt unable to note everything about the environment, or my fellow inmates, my vision being minorly impaired as I didn't have my spectacles with me. My sandal clad feet, and ankles, were getting extremely cold and I had no socks with me to warm them up at all. Come lunchtime, the food was absolutely disgusting - I'd settled for the salmon & dill potato bake in which the miniscule flakes of salmon looked like the scatterings of an infants overfull mouth bonded together with what looked like and had slightly less flavour than wallpaper paste.

Visitors had been arriving but, no sign of ma belle, I thought I'd be heading home at any moment. All this anticipation of imminent reprieve became increasingly frustrating as it failed to materialize. When ma belle arrived, at 3.30pm, she was already aware that my reprieve wouldn't be until the afternoon as she had contacted the ward (twice) earlier in the day, although I hadn't been informed of this. In fact, I only discovered that the blood test was negative after pursuing my own line of enquiry; strange how the staff had plenty of time to chat to each other but no time to communicate necessary information to the patient. Once it was known that the blood test was negative they were able to release me from the monitor leads.

Suddenly. whilst ma belle was visiting, they informed me that I was being transferred to another ward which came as something of a shock, as I was still anticipating an imminent leap into freedom. By this time I was getting ultra-tetchy, bothered by the lights, noises (on and off stage), and the general sense of being left in the dark; to placate me an annoying light was switched off and I enquired about discharging myself from the hospital. The staff on this ward were really helpful and chased up the coronary unit to speed up my treadmill test; rather than waiting for a porter to take me down (five minutes later) I was accompanied by one of the staff from the ward. I'd determined to exert myself to the nth degree on this test, although well aware there would be some slightly delayed post-exertional consequences, as I would risk anything to gain my freedom from this internment!

By 5.30pm, Thursday, I was on my way home, leaving it to the hospital to forward my discharge papers to my GP rather than incur any further stir craziness by waiting for same to be prepared. The post-exertional effects had really begun to hit home by Friday evening, followed by a very restless night with sharp aching pains being felt in chest, shoulder and leg muscles, along with my old familiar foe of intense discomfort in the armpits. The general feeling is one of a rather disconcerting fragility, a generalized discomfort; this post-exertional-malaise, unwelcome as it may be, is easier to deal with in the free world than it would be within those formidable clinical walls.

Growing Pains

Transplanting weeds / wildflowers (delete according to preferential term) can be a time consuming business but, fortunately, I have an OH to do the uplifting, from an inappropriate location, whilst I occupy myself with the re-planting. Not everyone welcomes the growth of weeds / wildflowers the way we do in this household, many would have difficulty in appreciating our excitement at finally having a healthy nettle patch developing in the wildlife friendly area of the garden! The rapid growth of the teasels is really something to behold and, I can just imagine the local goldfinches eager anticipation of their reaching fruition.

It's difficult to believe the amount of cultivation required to ensure the right kind of poor, reasonably well-drained, soil in what could all too frequently be a partially waterlogged area. It then took quite a while to develop the knack of disturbing the soil (in this meadow-type area) just sufficiently to encourage wildflower growth. Mind you, even the more traditionally cultivated areas of the garden contains somewhat random groupings of flag iris, even intruding on the lawn, whilst crocosmia merges with fuschia and rose of sharon in one bed whilst, elsewhere, other varieties of crocosmia happily rubs shoulders with rosemary, sage, and thistles

The mini, patio, and fish ponds all proffer a rich variety of aquatic and marginal plant growth, a rich habitat for insects and frogs. Red-veined docks, originally a minor introduction to the pond marginal range, have established themselves in various areas of the garden. The increasing number of avian visitors is a real treat; amazing how rapidly news of our feeding stations, and abundance of insects,  has travelled via the feathery grapevine. As I write, sparrows are rapidly flitting between the lantern feeder and their fledglings lined up, in eager anticipation, on an adjacent fence. The rain, which temporarily dissuades me from venturing out, is certainly no deterrent to these enthusiastic juveniles.

Just being and observing is a great source of contentment for yours truly!

Feeding & Squabbling

just thought I'd like to share my latest avian observations!

A non-participatory event

I'm just re-posting this from my first, and probably last, posting on my blog on The Labour Parties Membersnet - so far I am not impressed.

Having been a party activist, serving on GMC's in different constituencies in the 1960's & 70's, I gradually became disillusioned by its middle-classwards drift, and work taking me to live in a staunchly Tory constituency, (which amazingly changed to LibDems for a couple of terms), there seemed little point in bothering with the local party. [Incidentally, Phil Willis, our LibDem MP attended & supported local anti Iraq war meetings whilst Blairs poodles followed the mighty Dubya into the illegal war.]

The neo-Thatcherite tendencies of the Blairite ascendancy gave me little hope that anything worthwhile could be acheived by a New Labour government. Perhaps it's a sign of my mellowing with age but, as the last election drew closer I began to see how much we risked losing at the hands of the Tories. I also had to acknowledge that Gordon Brown was the person best equipped to deal with the fallout from the global capitalist crisis.

After a couple of decades I decided to rejoin, although health problems (being an M.E.sufferer) could well prevent me being much of a grassroots activist.

Having duly received my membership card I noticed there was something called Membersnet; my first thought was "great, I'll be able to follow, and probably join in, some interesting discussions!" but that's when the problems started.
Under the membersnet header "Discuss", thought I would like to see what discussions are going on. Under each sub-header I clicked I'm greeted with the following message:


Sorry

But you are not allowed to view or participate in this group.

The group may be private and therefore require an invitation to join.


I'm just loving the open-ness and sharing of this party that I've rejoined (after a membership lapse of a couple of decades). Wonderful encouragement of participation!

Website Update

I've just added a new gallery MORE VISITORS  to our New Luv4Sinners Website.

Israel and a quandary of faith - thinking aloud

There are times when I wish that I'd never been grasped by the good news proclaimed by (and of) Jesus of Nazareth, the Christ of faith. I am ashamed, far too frequently, of the bigotry and intolerance shown by his followers, the unhealthy obsession with sex, as well as the historically imperialist ambitions of Christendom. The self congratulatory indulgence of being saved, of what Jesus has done for "me"(the emphasis being more on the me than the Saviour), I find rather nauseating at times. For me the central message is one of justice and fairness, the bringing in of the Kingdom (although I'd prefer it to be a republic), to be fought for and attained through non-violent means.

Yes I have known, and know, the joyful knowledge of being accepted and loved just as I am; I have experienced the gifts of the spirit, even the trivial glossolalia, though I could argue the case for this being self-delusion. I have been blessed, in spite of struggles, with many God-incidences (events which have felt far more purposeful than mere co-incidence) which have turned my life around, but not without a cost to myself.

The weekend events, of Israeli piracy in international waters, have brought to the fore much of my unease with having any kind of attachment to Jesus's Dad. Wasn't the heavenly Father of Jesus the self-same YHWH who led the Hebrew people to the bloodthirsty conquest of Palestinian lands those thousands of years back? I have a suspicion that the theology of Israel only began as a justification for the rapaciousness of this section of Abraham's children. The God who is given the credit for their liberation from captivity in Egypt is the same one who guided and condoned their theft of the lands which subsequently became Israel and Judah. No doubt it is the same Yahweh who condones their barbaric acts today.

Was the Father to whom Jesus prayed that self-same YHWH; had YHWH had a change of heart?

As I said at the beginning, an essential part of my being grasped by the good news is an attachment to non-violence but, my all too human heart would not be totally saddened by the overthrow of the Israeli nation state, which was, after all, established through acts of terrorism from 1939 onwards.

Of Monkeys and Organ Grinders

It has really been quite embarassing to hear Nick Clegg, at the weekend, and Vince Cable today (on Radio 4) attempting to justify their support for policies which, throughout the campaign, they so vociferously opposed.

Interesting that the BBC should choose to interview the monkeys, rather than the organ grinders, as the cuts are announced. It's no real surprise though, to see that these opportunists are already being set up as fall guys by their parliamentary marriage bed partners!

The Visitor

The door opens and, with ungainly gaited glide, the visitor zeroes in on a chair right next to mine; a harbinger of claustrophobia in what, until this moment, had been an airy space.

I feel his breath on the back of my neck, perceive a penetrating gaze absorbing all that appears on my laptop's screen. An intense sense of dis-ease crushes me, I find myself almost gasping for breath.

It's rare that just a few minutes can seem like endless hours but, today, this was the case. I had no desire to rudely scream and exorcise the presence from our dwelling place, for here is history, albeit a quite tenuous family tie.

I vacate the room and head for the garden, an opportunity to breathe freely once again. Fortunately ma belle senses my un-ease, coping remarkably well with her own, relieves me of the need to endure this painful companionability for a moment more than necessary.

When one's stamina levels are already low, entertaining can prove a stress too far.

Dunnock - singing in the wind