Urgent Preparations

And all of a sudden it's panic stations; after last month's sigmoidoscopy an appointment was made for me to have a full colonoscopy at the end of this month. Having just had a late lunch today the telephone rang; the endoscopy department had a cancellation and they wondered if I could go in on Friday afternoon. This means of course that I've unavoidably breached the dietary preparations for "Two Days before your Examination" and tomorrow will be the day for taking two sachets of the purgative solution (Sodium Picosulfate) and my last minimal low fibre food intake will be at mid-day, midway between the two doses, although i am permitted a clear soup or meat extract drink and perhaps a little clear jelly sometime between 7.00 and 9.00 pm.

It's not a case of me having the largest of appetites but, as the appointment on Friday is not until 3.15pm, I feel pretty certain that I'm going to be somewhat pre-occupied with hunger pangs. On reading the preparatory notes I find that it's necessary to "Talk to your doctor before taking the bowel preparation if you:"... - the relevant note here being "Have reflux oesophagitis (a condition where acid from the stomach enters the oesophagus". As things stand, I've been treated for this condition for a number of years so, a hasty phone call to my GP's surgery was in order. Within ten minutes a doctor called me back and assures me that, as the 2x30mg lansoprazole along with occasional doses of gaviscon kept it reasonably under control, it would be OK if I just continue with that medication. [My primary concern had been that the notes went on to state that "some conditions may require you to be an inpatient for administration of bowel preparation" and, somewhat ironically, I've always felt that when one's feeling grotty hospital is the last place you want to be!]

passively full days

Though still, of necessity, doing little that requires any degree of exertion it's amazing how full my days seem to be! My noblest intention of posting more regularly (to the blog) remains just that, an intention; perhaps I could blame the paucity of posts on not wanting to bore my readers but, that doesn't seem to have bothered me in the past. Perhaps the fact that my days seem to be 'full' is quite simply a reflection of my somewhat restricted stamina levels; had I a greater reserve of stamina then I would be able to fit much more into my days.

Never having been much of a sun worshipper, it's really quite amazing how much time I've been spending sat out in the garden during the current prolonged spell of dry sunshiny days. Parasols are regularly erected at the table in front of the bench, immediately behind our living room, and beside the love seat near the pond, to offer a degree of protection to this fair-skinned beauty. Even whilst sat beneath the parasol's shade I wear a hat, taking full heed of the advice I received when the basal cell carcinoma was diagnosed and excised  from my back last year. The shade, proferrred by the parasols, seems to camoflauge my presence for the garden's avian* visitors which have quite frequently settled themselves down in much closer proximity to this human interloper.

An irritable, intensely frustrating, spastic colon has ensured that I rarely ventured far from house and garden in recent days, my most distant jaunt being to 'Open Church' at St Marks - approximately 10 minutes walk - for coffee and a chat. Even that little stroll could prove a little more difficult now that my back trouble (related to the herniated disc?) has flared up again; hopefully a combination of tramadol, ibuprofen gel, and a firm back support will keep that little problem in check. Fortunately, I seem to have regained an ability to concentrate on doing a bit of reading, in the past few days having read Tony Benn's 'Letters to my Grandchildren' and the first couple of hundred pages of Manning Marable's 'Malcolm X a Life of Reinvention'.

Recent bank holidays have meant that I have been blessed with a few more days basking in the company of ma belle Helen, life could hardly be better.

* more on the birds in the garden on my beloved's blog


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

earlier today I posted a couple of snapshots 'must be a tea garden!'  to Mal's Picturebox

new web album - bloomin' spring 2011

I have just added a new web album of 60 photographs, Bloomin' Spring 2011, to our New Luv4Sinners website!

an Easter Declaration

pond life

just had to video this - loved the way the tadpoles were swimming around
the basking common frog in our garden pond this morning

Oh What A Night

It was another one of those, fortunately not too regular, nights of erratic and painful discomfort. As I needed to be up and about this morning, at a much earlier hour than usual, I decided to take a shower before retiring au lit. One (at least this one) would expect a late evening shower to prove an aid to relaxation and rest but, that wasn’t to be the case.

Firstly, my shoulders didn’t seem able to find a comfortable position whichever way I sought to settle down for some much needed slumber. Next the calf muscles kept tortuously spasming and, in next to no time a painfully aching lead laden hollow sensation in my left wrist and forearm colluded in the protest movement. Having applied my wrist support, to alleviate the agonizing discomfort, I felt ready once more to enter the land of nod but a rebellious body refused to comply with its own needs.  That’s the point when the expletives came into play as I got myself out of bed and paced around the bedroom and landing.

 On returning to bed my ribs and flesh felt  as if they were disconcertingly trapped in a non-elastic skin whilst, simultaneously, an adequately loose fitting pyjama jacket suddenly felt unduly constrictive.  PJ’s duly removed, I felt that settling down for the night would now follow just as naturally as day follows night; wrong again! Wilfully directed arms and legs flailed, this way and that, as comfort became a completely elusive goal. By 3.45am, still uncomfortably restless, I decided to take a couple of tramadol 50mg capsules and, within half an hour I began to feel much more relaxed and eventually managed to snatch an hour or two of slumber. 

 I suppose that, at the back of my mind, the prospect of having to emerge at 7.00am to insert a couple of suppositories, in preparation for a 9.10am appointment for a sigmoidoscopy at the District Hospital, wasn’t totally conducive to getting a good night’s sleep. On normal days, the period between 7.00 and 10.00am frequently proves conducive to some most refreshing rest; it’s almost as if an awareness of missing out (on this familiar luxury) had militated, somewhat perversely, against my taking advantage of more usual hours of nocturnal rest.

This morning, I was actually admitted to the consulting room a few minutes early and, much to my relief the sigmoidoscopy revealed no abnormalities but, an appointment has been made for me to undergo a full colonoscopy in one month’s time.

... and RELAX (again)

Another afternoon in the garden, primarily with sun hat donned, relaxing in the shade of a parasol. Once again ma belle donned her gardening gear, on her return from morning worship, and has been tackling further border areas in an attempt to slow down the ground elder's rate of advance. Mid- afternoon I decided to load a wheelbarrow with the rich humus from the bottom of our compost bin and duly scattered it across the border that was yesterdays scene of Helen's battle against the pernicious weed (ground elder).


My body informed me that it was time to quit the exertion routine by the time I'd dealt with that one barrowload; I don't really intend to risk any dispiritingly excruciating post-exertional malaise. Relaxation is also the theme for the evening; having watched 'Songs Of Praise' with my beloved she then headed off to Hampsthwaite where she's taking the service this evening and, on her return, we'll probably switch on ITV for a bit of escapism compliments of "Lewis".


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

and a little relief

As the week went on, my body cried out for an increasing amount of attention. Alongside the all too familiar muscular aches and spasms in upper and lower limbs, the spasms in the calves now accompanied by random painful twinges in the thigh muscles, my GORD (reflux) symptoms seemed to flare up once again, in spite of having resumed the double dose of ppi's.

A totally aching shattered tiredness has frequently caught me unawares mid-evening, my minimum twelve hours bed-rest per day (apparently) not serving to alleviate this excruciating fatigue in any way. At times, whilst (relatively) comfortably seated, a floating giddy headedness accompanied by peristaltic waves of nausea overwhelms me. It feels at times as if the whole ribcage is convulsively contracting and an examination by my GP, yesterday afternoon, confirmed much volatility in the abdominal region for which he has prescribed some anti-spasmodics as well as arranging for me to have a colonoscopy. I've got to admit that the combination of GORD and a spastic colon is not one that I would recommend.

Today has been a day of glorious sunshine and, I've spent several enjoyable hours sat beside the garden pond whilst ma belle pursued her task of clearing away some of the ground elder from one of the garden borders. Prior to that leisurely open air pursuit, we had both enjoyed watching "The Taming of the Shrew", shown as a tribute to Elizabeth Taylor - the chemistry between her and Burton is so wonderful to witness. And now, as I scribble these hasty words, we're watching "Elizabeth Taylor - A Tribute" on BBC2.

as boldness dissipates

Last night, once again, sleep had no intention of meeting a need; for hours on end it refused to intervene in response to my bodies requirements, restlessness reigned supreme. As we moved into the mid-morning hours a familiar quandary returned; do I just rest here in the hope that much needed sleep will catch me out or, do I get up and put on a bold face as I struggle to stay awake.

The boldness swiftly dissipates as excruciating discomfort becomes the latest manifestation of tiredness; Malcolm the bold crumbles into Malcolm the wimp. By the time in the early afternoon that my physio arrives, for a chat and application of the magic needles, tears are ready to well up. The tears are sourced from a deep rooted frustration at the sundry disabling ailments that have plagued me over recent years and, the fact that they're such a cause of worry and concern for my beloved. 

normal service will be resu ... [repost from 'Mal's Murmurings']

this is … this … this is what … what it … what it feels … feels like … when the … the … the glands … lymph … something or … owww … in the armpit and … and the painful discomfort … … …. means that one … … has … has t … has to lock … aaargh … their arms … tightly … oh stuff this …

a little p e m goes an awfully long way - and I just wish it would stay there!

The mood of thankfulness and rejoicing soured a little, come early evening. On a note of bubbly confidence I suggested, much to ma belle's surprise, that I might join her on the grocery shopping expedition; that was a mistake. No sooner had we stepped inside the store than a rather generalized sense of queasiness overwhelmed me; first thought was that it may be a panic attack but, my efforts to take slow deep breaths made little difference, the discomfort was of a distinctively physical nature and that's when my awareness that there is not a public loo in Waitrose was re-awakened. So home it was, a rather weepy - almost self-pitying - Malcolm headed back to the car to be chauffered home. I suspect that post-exertional malaise, in response to the previous days activity had finally kicked in. Shattered exhaustion, a feeling that my ribs had undergone a kicking - a deeply bruised sensation apparently emanating from inside the rib cage, and haphazardly spasmodic contractions of the calf muscles served to refocus my attention away from the earlier contentment to an obsessive awareness of my own discomfort.

By 9.30pm, a sense of excruciating tiredness left me with no other option than to ascend the wooden stairs. Things then took a turn for the worse, as a nauseating discomfort in both upper and lower limbs militated against the possibility of finding any posture that proved conducive to sleep. First I applied wrist splints to counter the intensely painful aching void which seemed to have taken over the position normally occupied by radius and ulnar. The attempted relief led to a further numbingly tingling sensation that on previous occasions it had served to relieve. A couple of hours passed applying and releasing wrist supports, all to little or no avail. By this time an aching tenderness emanating from (the glands in) the armpits necessitated the removal of my pyjama jacket. Sometime post-midnight I was able to grasp a few hours of intermittent sleep but my emergence into the new day was somewhat marred by a gut-wrenchingly painful sustained bout of diaorrhea.

As the day went on I began to feel somewhat more comfortable and, this afternoon, managed a little trip down to Brookside Nurseries before delighting in a little light pottering around in the garden.

to bed perchance to sleep ...

This is the time for sleep. Try frustration instead of sleep; no thanks, I've just tried that and found it wanting! That was last night's pattern, finding myself totally mentally alert when I should have been resting. Perhaps it was the expectation of a sound nights sleep, following on from a day of plentiful fresh air and a more than modest (but not dangerously so) degree of exertion.

Yesterday was one of those spoiling days, once the bright sunshine had broken through; a cool breeze played wonderful counterpoint to the sun's warmth drawing me out from my domestic habitation. Having returned from a mid-morning visit to 'Open Church', where I consumed a cup or two of coffee as accompaniment to a bit of social chatter, I ventured up to the pond to feed the fish (goldfish and golden orfes) and felt suddenly inspired to apply a fresh dose of teak oil to sundry items of garden furniture.

After grabbing a bit of lunch, I returned to the garden and gave the lawn its first mow of the season and also took a few macro snapshots of some of the spring flowers. After that rather full days activity, I had anticipated a better nights rest than that which I was about to receive. Having settled down in the duvet realm by 11.00pm, at 1.30am I switched on the bedside radio to listen to Radio 3 as I'd not yet managed even a brief snatch of slumber. A further 4 or 5 hours later and I'd still not managed even forty winks. It somehow felt like an overactive mind had determined to thwart my bodies rest requirement.

Sometime between 7.00am and 11.00am I did capture a few spasmodic moments of shuteye whilst purportedly listening to Radio 7 and Radio 2. I then allowed myself to slowly emerge in to a new brightly sunshiny day as I attempted to release a modicum of vibrancy from my shatteredly sleep deprived  body. I headed up to the arbour seat and was swiftly transfixed by the scuttling and chattering activity of the sparrows in the adjacent shrubbery, and the flittering of peacock and white butterflies over the rockery. As I rejoiced in the new seasons growth, I was almost able to forget my general state of shatteredness.

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

Sometimes

Sometimes life just feels good, no matter how ropey ones underlying condition may be. It's the simple things that count for so much; the delights of taking a shower comfortably seated, remembering how much one struggled before that simple installation of a seat was made. To relish a rare good nights sleep, waking in the morning feeling almost refreshed and, the odd muscular spasm responding to an appropriate medication.


Having registered with a different doctors practice on Monday, one fortunately within my restricted walking range,I had an initial consultation yesterday where I was able to initiate an essential modification to my precribed medications. To be honest though, even the most efficacious medications seem to carry with them some undesirable side effects and one has to carefully consider their relative demerits.


The GP I saw also appeared to be quite understanding about M.E. which was a very pleasant surprise, when one has become quite used to a rather dismissive attitude, seeing the importance of pacing and resting. She even seemed supportive when I suggested the importance of campaigning on ME related issues and how important an online presence had been for me. An acceptance (albeit reluctantly) of the quite dramatic limitations that chronic illness imposed on any socializing activity, was for me a significant turning point, I was no longer held hostage by a recklessly seething self-pitying anger. The more I resented the condition, the more difficult it had become to develop any kind of strategy to cope with it; acceptance enabled me to regain myself.


Sometimes, life just feels good - just venture into the garden, take a few snaps - Spring is so much in evidence ...

                                               Click on image to enlarge

Disjointed Time

Concentration was in short supply - a natural adjunct to the state of shatteredness and, last night I was in bed by 9.30pm (BST) being barely able to stay awake; attempts to stifle yawns proved futile. The only option was to yield to the bed rest impulse. Once abed the plot line changed; acute discomfort in wrists and hands, aches and cold shivers and shudders in torso and limbs generally, militated against the necessary restfulness. I applied a wrist splint, took a couple of tramadol 50mg, and removed my pyjama jacket, in an attempt to ease a frustratingly generalized sense of dis-ease.

Come 12.00 midnight, I began to feel more comfortable than I've felt for several weeks and, yesterday's sneezes and watery eye sensations seemed to have vanished. Quite strangely, once I began to feel comfortable I also began to feel wide-awake and, unfortunately, this state of alertness was my companion throughout the night. Wouldn't it have been wonderful to have felt so comfortably alert during the preceding day, or indeed any day, when full advantage could be taken of this rare experience? For at least the first couple of hours I found myself basking in this new sensation, with only a niggling concern that this nocturnal liveliness of mind would no doubt carry with it a penalty of shatteredness later in the new day. At 4.25am, I succumbed to the temptation of switching on the bedside radio and tuning in to Radio 3. I really enjoyed the rich miscellany of classical music, although on this occasion I had been hoping that it would lull me off to the land of Nod but, instead , I listened in a state of entranced alertness. I only managed to snatch some real, albeit intermittent, shuteye between 8.00 and 10.00am.

A brief walk up the road shortly before noon, to register with a conveniently local GP practice, post off a completed census form, and collect a wholemeal loaf from the bakery, was about all the exercise I could manage. Much of the afternoon has been spent reclining in the living room, Radio 4 presenting an interesting audio wallpaper whose weave I find myself drifting in and out of.

Just Another Day

Yesterday, I released myself from the duvet lair sometime after 10.30am then did very little apart from despatching a few e-mails as part of the Armchair Army in solidarity with the "TUC March for the Alternative". I also felt quite privileged that my name was borne on a Broken Of Britain T-shirt worn by one of the marchers.

I did manage a little walk with my beloved, nowhere near as far as I'd hoped even though a little further than the previous afternoons totally abortive attempt (on that occasion muscular spasms in thighs, as well as calves, conspired with a spontaneous dissipation of my limited stamina reserve, to thwart the endeavour). Even with just that minimal activity I felt totally shattered and reluctantly retired to bed at 9.00pm (GMT) with not even an egg-spoon of stamina in reserve.

Ma belle and I did attempt to watch a bit of light-relief TV, au lit, but sheer exhaustion won out over entertainment. I did, however, remember to put the clocks forward, in readiness for the early morning transition from GMT to BST. I seemed to manage a little more sleep than I do on many nights but, I still felt shattered when I emerged from the duvet realm at 10.30am (BST).

I've never fully recovered all-day today, even having to divide my modest dinner portion into two - split between lunchtime and teatime - to give my ailing digestion an easier task. Apart from the abdominal discomfort, familiar cramping spasms in calf muscles have formed an unholy alliance with excruciating twinges in my thighs whenever any movement necessitated even a moderate degree of stretching.

Visits to the loo have been irritatingly frequent, the dreaded gut-rot has plagued me all day.  A differently aching muzzy head and spasmodic bouts of sneezing have added to the day's rich tapestry; for the first time in ages I suspect that I could be coming down with a cold! Considering that for several months before, or when, I first succumbed to ME I constantly struggled with flu-like symptoms – full-blown colds have been markedly absent during the past seven years

Sorry I'm Not Marching

Just to assure you that there are many more of us who would like to be out on the streets, demonstrating against the governments ideologically motivated austerity programme, if only our health & stamina would allow it.

Why are you so committed to mollycoddling the economy destroying bankers whist punishing the low-paid and incapacitated?



message sent to PM, Deputy PM, and Chancellor on 26 March 2011

spoilt by lack of choice

Just how irritably tetchy, like an overwound spring, I'd become wasn't immediately apparent but, (these days) the most minor event goes wrong and, wham, bam ... I'm in there without so much as a by your leave. I feel sorry for the recipient of the agressive verbal outpourings that ensue, it just seems so contrary to my (what was always seen to be) laid-back temperament. To be honest I never suffered fools (especially the supposedly intelligent ones) gladly but, would always deal with the situation in a calmly measured way, at least that's what I attempted. Nowadays it's shoot first ... ask questions later.

On the one hand I know that suppressing anger / outrage can have a negative effect on one's psychsomatic well being but, at the same time, rapidly vented anger leads one into a lingering slow-motion period of regret, the outrage having frequently been disproportionate to its triggering event. Unfortunately I never have sufficient stamina to release the pent up frustration by more directly physical means - walloping a punch-bag, bopping the night away, even going out for a lung stretching high speed walk is out of the question - so I'm left with a fiery verbal temper.

Since succumbing, eight years ago, to this excruciatingly painful, socially isolating, chronic condition, the irritability quotient seems to have multiplied in an almost logarithmic progression. Intense frustration arises on occasions when I've decided to go with ma belle to do some shopping, only to find that minutes after belting up in the car I suddenly feel too discomforted and unwell to pursue this course of action. At other times I arrive at the shop and have to find a place to sit down, in splendid isolation, whilst ma belle does the shopping. Bracing myself for such outings as visits to shops, GP surgeries, or indeed any priorly arranged appointment, swiftly depletes my already limited stamina reserves. Should a last minute change occur to any of these plans, that's when the spring snaps ...

What surprises me most is the high degree of contentment I have in simple pleasures such as sitting out in the arbour seat, observing the garden's flora and fauna, or basking in the presence of my beloved in the evening. I am essentially a happy, easily contented person; I just wish my body would allow me to socialize more, rather than constantly having to fall back on being self-contained. An asocial mode of being is not my lifestyle choice. 

Close Encounters of the Flutter-by Kind - now you see me ...

situational frustration

Frustration intensifies, normal ‘healthy wellness’ is becoming too much like a vague distant memory; I struggle to recall what it was like to be able to freely socialize. The once taken for granted now seems to define the height of luxury; to just pop around to visit a friend or go out for a drink, to go to a cinema, a theatre, a concert or an exhibition without having to weigh up whether my resources of physical and / or emotional stamina are up to the task, all that seems such a long time ago.

It’s even many years now since I felt able to attend a church service; just the fact of having more than a couple of other people in close proximity, without feeling able to freely escape (without causing a disturbance / disruption) is sufficient to bring on the cold sweats and palpitations. It’s like a strange variety of claustrophobia, the peopled environs seeming to act as a creeping tourniquet being applied to my chest and abdomen, the presence of these others, coupled with the functionally imposed duration, seems to overload my senses; at times, even just having a couple of visitors at home can cause a similar discomforting sensory overload but, at least in these circumstances I am able to retreat elsewhere in the house.

Of course these situational responses can’t really be separated from the sundry aches, pains, and muscular spasms which are the situation's all too frequent accomplices.

The Art of Revival

Last evening, after a day of acute discomfort, I set myself a task by way of a distraction from my ailments. An old laptop of mine had become frustratingly sluggish, to a point where it seemed to have discovered the secret of backwards time travel; a simple update of MSE antivirus took on the proportions of installing a new service pack (and that in an imagined scenario when one had failed to install any intermediate patches). So, you may well be thinking, you utilized frustration as a distraction?



The mission this time was to do a clean install of XP Home SP2 followed by SP3, a few drivers needing to be installed in the process. I even managed to install a full Office Pro system, ready for handing the machine over to one of Helen’s students at the Acorn Centre. Having done all this work, it was amazing to see how fast it responded to any command – almost like new; the fact that many of the letters had worn off the keyboard soon allayed any confusion on this point.


The distraction did little to alleviate my painful discomfort but, I feel certain that the time passed much more quickly (and constructively) than it would otherwise have done. I’ve even got another discarded PC in my sights, to attempt another resuscitation operation.

Of LIMITATIONS and ENJOYMENT

OF LIMITATIONS and ENJOYMENT

Middle of the night and nature called; an attempted leap out of bed became the more familiar slowly lumbering self removal only, this time, with added difficulties. For the past two or three days the back pains had all but disappeared, only the more regular  discomfort remaining in its stead but, now it seems to have returned with a vengeance. It’s strange how one’s own body delights in playing tricks; just when you think it safe, to carry out an effort of moderate exertion, it sends out a disconcerting alarm signal. If only that signal was as transient as that of an alarm clock, disappearing as soon as one taps the necessary button, there would not be a problem but, unfortunately, these signals are not of that peremptory nature which curtails one’s pursuit of the (unwittingly) harmful course of action. These signals always seem to arrive after the harm has been done, swiftly transmuting the alarm call into a sustained aggravation.

So, you may well wonder, what transgression had I committed against my ailing torso? All I’d been doing was carrying out a partial filter and water change in our largest aquarium, changing two of the filter pads and performing a less than 20% water change. I could (almost) swear that I carefully controlled my posture during the entire operation, to minimize the risk of detrimental health effects, but my body makes a different declaration.

Prior to that minor operation I’d made a visit, with my beloved chauffeuse, to the local aquarists to replenish necessary supplies. The journey is approximately 2 ½ miles but, as is becoming an increasingly common experience, it felt like a major expedition; even travelling at speeds which never exceed the legal limit, on primarily suburban roads, can seem  like  we’re exceeding Mach 1 – my body  crying out in reaction to the velocity at which we’re hurtling through space. 

The whole sensory overload experience seems once again, and most regrettably, to be edging its way into taking control of my lived experience. I’m just hoping and praying that I won’t tumble once again into that convulsively shattering realm.

Strange as it may seem, apart from the sundry ailments which posit substantial limitations on my activities, I do continue to enjoy life. The simple pleasure of observing, and encouraging, the flora and fauna of our garden is a wonderful joy bringer, second only to the presence of my beloved. As I’m no longer able to cope with cinema or theatre-going, the increasingly wide range of films available on DVD proves a real blessing. My enjoyment of cooking, provided a fair range of herbs and spices are to hand, is another source of pleasure, as is the consumption of the end product! I must admit that much of the time I don’t really feel unwell, sundry muscular and glandular aches and spasms have quite simply become an accepted component of normality; it’s only when i attempt to stretch my activity output that I’m quite forcefully reminded of my limitations.

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

in case you missed yesterday's frivolous posting on 'Mal's Murmurings' I've repeated it here :

A Nation’s Addiction?

A radio news bulletin informs me that we’re becoming a nation of TV addicts, adding “according to a survey of viewers“!

They should try surveying non-viewers, only to discover that nobody ever watches TV in the UK!

 

Mal's M E jottings on New L4S

Apologies for the recent paucity of postings but, at least I've managed to find the stamina to add a new section, "Jottings from Mal's M.E. Log", to our 'New Luv4Sinners Website'

More on 'Mal's Factory'

I have just posted 'A Poem to Secular Jesus', both text and video, to my Mal's Factory weblog

As one door opens ...

Just as one ailment is alleviated another seems to posit itself in the full spotlight of my attention.



It is with a great deal of relief that I can report on the effective suppression of the most disconcerting symptoms of GORD, the combination of esomeprazole and domperidone most definitely curbing the most acute intestinal and oesophageal rebellion. Doses of a moderately potent liquid antacid are no longer de rigueur before retirement au lit.


A numb tingling sensation in left hand and wrist still requires frequent application of a wrist splint to offer a modicum of relief but, proves relatively easy to bear (not that one has any choice in the matter). Last Friday, the dentist extracted an offending molar, bringing with it much relief so things began to look rather bright! Come Monday, I once more found myself needing to resort to the use of a back support, as niggles emanating from the lower lumbar region began to increase in intensity.


On Tuesday morning, stick assisted I managed to shuffle myself down to Open Church at St. Marks for coffee and a little conversation, the latter having seemed in short supply since my beloved's return to work (following last week's days off). Even though sundry niggling health concerns somewhat overshadowed the additional hours spent with ma belle last week, I was surprised to find how much more isolated and alone I began to feel now that her normal work pattern has resumed.


No sooner had I got through the door, on my lunchtime return home from St Marks, than the telephone rang. It was a call from someone at my doctor's surgery enquiring whether I'd received the letter and paperwork requiring a Fasting blood test prior to my next GP appointment (already arranged for the following day). I checked the post that had just arrived and, sure enough, there was the letter purportedly despatched on Friday 18th yet strangely postmarked 21/02/11 at 3.36pm. The spokesperson from the surgery had the audacity to suggest that I cancel the appointment with the doctor as I'd failed to undertake the fasting blood test. This was the last straw, I finally had an appointment with the doctor I'd been asked to see and they wanted to cancel it ( this was a cause for resentful hurt on my part bearing in mind the incident recorded in the third paragraph of my previous posting 'The Opening of the Floodgates').


In the event I attended hospital for the blood test on Wednesday morning before going to my doctors appointment in the afternoon, even though I knew the results would not be available within such a restricted time span. The doctor, however, did not require the fasting blood test results; the results of tests that I'd had the previous Tuesday morning were the only requirement - the fasting test being irrelevant to her investigations. The good news, on that front, is that all the results were normal; once again, I'm reassured to know that my health problems are entirely due to there being nothing wrong!


Last evening the severe back pains further intensified and became excruciating as I attempted to remove myself from the bed, to obey an urgent call of nature. I should have realized that lying down, whether on back or side, is the worst possible position to be in should the requirement to extract oneself from the duvet lair become necessary. The manouevre of rolling oneself to the edge of the bed, painfully letting ones lower limbs slide down towards the floor before one is able to elevate the torso, is neither elegant nor reassuring. Having returned to bed, ma belle made sure that my torso was adequately propped up with both standard and triangular pillows, thus enabling a slightly easier removal of myself from those environs at the due time. An additional dose of 100mg of tramadol served to further ease the subsequent manoeuvre.


At the moment my verbal outbursts, arising from a combination of frustration and intense dis-ease, could (to my shame) pass for coprolalia. It's not that my fuse burns any more rapidly, it's simply been a further victim of all pervasive cuts; hopefully, as ailments subside, a much longer replacement fuse will be found. For the present I just can't help feeling painfully frail, vulnerable and not at all nice to know.

The Opening of the Floodgates

Just suddenly found myself to be a totally blubbering wreck. I've no idea where the floods of tears came from but, it certainly must have performed some type of tear duct flushing. I was quite happily surfing the net when, suddenly, the armpit discomfort forced me into pressing my upper arms tightly against my torso; it was also essential to put on a wrist support / splint to remove the numbingly aching pain in hand and forearm. Having, from necessity, shut down the PC, I went downstairs to join ma belle.

As my beloved will be seeing her friend this evening, she wondered what I'd like for lunch and profferred the suggestion that maybe I'd like to take advantage of the OAP concession at the local chippie. The fish and chips from this particular outlet are really delicious, a wonderful inexpensive treat, so the suggestion should have been greeted with unconditional enthusiasm! Unfortunately, with my haphazard assortment of gastric disorders, the last couple of times I've enjoyed this feast there have been subsequent repercussions. As this thought passed through my mind, the almost hysterical tearful effusion occurred.

At this point my total distrust of the GPs I've visited recently came to the fore; I've increasingly been made to feel that I'm a nuisance and a waste of their time (wittingly or unwittingly I don't know). Since concentrating on treatment of GORD, any mention I, or my beloved, make of my underlying ME-CFS symptoms / ailments, are swiftly brushed aside / ignored. On the last visit I was asked, in an accusatory manner, why I'd been seeing different doctors (from within the practice), ignoring the fact that on several occasions follow-up appointments booked with the same GP, either online or at the surgery, have subsequently been cancelled, via 'phone calls from the surgery, and alternatives have had to be arranged. I'm also dependent on the availability of ma belle chauffeuse, to get me to the surgery, so also have to work around this; the alternative would be a two bus journey each way and, since 2003 I have found this mode of transport extremely stressful.

When I went to the hospital's phlebotomy department yesterday, for sundry samples to be taken, I was reminded that a consultant endocrinologist had informed the practice that certain of these tests, to monitor my condition, should be carried out at least every six months; this has not happened for the past few years (probably since the previous senior partner, who was my primary reason for remaining with the practice, retired from the practice).

Perhaps the fact that I'm currently on antibiotics, in addition to sundry other medications, suggests that I'm at a particularly low ebb. The opening of the floodgates proved difficult to understand, nonetheless, as I haven't been feeling at all depressed (just ill)! Maybe I'm  a little more frail (and vulnerably de-energized) than usual having missed my most recent physio / acupuncture treatment; the physios services were required, to deal with some very urgent cases, by another district within the health authority, which no longer employs anyone in an equivalent position, quite likely a result of the ConDems ideological cuts. 

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

P.S. a rather more upbeat postscript to this posting can be found on my 'Mal's Murmurings' blog, apropos the floodgates.

Romantic Promise and Actual Practice

This should be a really romantic week, today being Valentine's Day and Saturday being our Wedding Anniversary and, what's more, my beloved has the whole week off work. Of course things never go fully according to plan; this evening we were due to dine with Helen's sister Janet and Graham (her spouse) but unfortunately, owing to the erratic behaviour of my health - with special reference to the digestive tract - it seemed much safer, yesterday, to cancel that arrangement.

So, what romantic treats has today brought. It was wonderful to enjoy more of my essential morning lie-in snuggled up to my beloved, who has usually headed off to work about three hours before my routine emergence from the duvet realm.

Other events were not quite so romantic; a visit to the dentist revealed a dental abscess, for which I'm now taking a course of antibiotics, whilst later in the day a further visit to my GP's surgery was in order.Tomorrow, I'll be headed off to the hospital for a few more blood samples to be taken, prior to a further GP appointment (arranged for next week).

GP or not GP that is the question

and nothing has improved since the previous posting, simply a more sustained discomfort; apart from the spasmodically acute pains in chest and abdomen, yesterday saw a return of my faint giddiness which cut short a visit to Helen's Church (Wesley) for a spot of lunch.

Up until 19 January, apart from my usual tramadol (painkiller), mometasone (nasal spray), I'd be taking 2x30mg lansoprazole (proton pump inhibitor) each day but still needing the odd dose of Gaviscon at night. On the 19th, the doctor I saw took me off the lansoprazole and switched me to a different ppi, namely 1x40mg esomeprazole daily.

On 9 February, I had the appointment mentioned in my previous posting (Worth A Mention?). In his effort to ensure that he involved me in the decision making process, the GP I saw this time somehow decided that I should continue with the esomeprazole (although it was proving less effective than the double dose of lansoprazole - except briefly on the initial few days) but also prescribed 10mg domperidone (a dopamine antagonist) to be taken 3 times a day.

Apart from the increased discomfort, and even occasional bouts of volatile diaorrhea, I once again find myself wondering whether the chest pains are in fact directly connected with my gastro-oesophageal problems. I quite simply had the feeling that the GP just wasn't interested!

Worth A Mention?

strange how medications to alleviate a condition can make that same condition much worse

never sure what's a reaction to new medication and what's part of the underlying condition

Having just "tweeted" the above (apparently trivial) observations, I suddenly realized that they may be expressing a deeper underlying concern

.
**********************

I knew when I made the appointment that it was a follow up to check how a change of ppi is affecting me. Informed GP that for a few days it seemed better, explaining an inadvertent side effect of the extra dosage of the former ppi, but now it didn't seem as effective as I was experiencing a greater degree of discomfort. The GP of course asks me, do I think that my current discomfort, an amplified version of what I'd been already been experiencing, was related to the gastric problem. Having acknowledged fairly recent A&E incidents which confirmed that there was no apparent heart problem, and last years endoscopy finding no obvious cause for my gastric problems, I could only reply that according to previous GP guidance that did seem to be the case.

The outcome was a decision made, with my uninformed collusion, that I should continue with the new ppi but also take a dopamine antagonist 3 times per day. The first couple of days on this new regimen and, I'm feeling markedly more discomforted, in the gastro-intestinal / gastro-oesophogeal stakes, than I've felt for quite some time. The frustration continues. The question is, do I persevere?

Having stated the question, I now return to the larger problematic picture. Any visit to a GP tends to focus on a specific problem and, as a result, other ailments that are part of an ongoing chronic condition are rarely given an airing, in the course of a consultation. The doctor is presumably well aware that I need to take pain-killing medication, primarily tramadol, to treat persistent muscular and skeletal pain but, I sometimes do find myself wondering whether the broader underlying condition could also be responsible for my gastro-intestinal problems.

Unfortunately treatment only seems to be available for specific symptoms whilst the larger underlying picture seems to be trivialised or ignored. Indeed, as an example, there has always been a marked reluctance on the part of the government, and the Medical Research Council, to carry out bio-medical research into the neurological condition Myalgic Encephalomyelitis. One feels, at times, afraid of mentioning the aching tenderness in armpits and under the chin, the sharply bruised leaden hollowness in the lower limbs whilst still abed, a sense of ones skin being pulled too tight over one's flesh, random virulent nightsweats, degrees of orthostatic intolerance, a not infrequent need to don supports on ankles, wrist, back etc in order to cope with the days most basic tasks. 

Don't get me wrong, I've long since learned to cope with the daily onslaught of aches and pains and, I generally manage to pace myself sufficiently to avoid a major crash but, that doesn't mean that life is easy, much as I enjoy it. 

Siskin at feeder

a recent poem ex 'Mal's Factory'

Restless Night


frantic and static
collude
to break the spirit -


the chorussed scream
of roll and stretch
weaves counterpoint


against the searing ache
of stasis -
the chinese burn


of movement
resists
the planned escape



                         Malcolm Evison
                      30/01/11 – 01/02/11

Mal's drifting murmurs

Today's blog post from yours truly, drifting with the flow, can be found on 'Mal's Murmurings'

wonderment and guilt - spontaneous jottings

A strange combination of wonderment and guilt are today's companions. Having allowed myself time to just sit, in the silence of the living room, looking out onto the garden, my mind is once again filled with the question, why is there something rather than nothing? Because there is something, imagining nothing (or a non/state of nothingness) seems impossible - I find myself watching the clouds slowly drift by and, I'm lost in wonder.

To be honest, most of my life these days is spent in some kind of wonderment and, it is because of (rather than in spite of) this appreciation of the wondrous awesomeness of life that I cannot avoid being committed to issues of social justice and hence politics. There must be an alternative to people being bogged down in the vicious cycle of wage slavery and debt; the world has a sufficiency of resources for everyone to be able to enjoy leisure time without being wearied and overburdened about how to acheive even a subsistence lifestyle.

But, you may well ask, where does the guilt enter the equation? It's that old protestant work ethic no doubt - how can I justify stting doing nothing rather than taking some positive action? The straight answer is that I don't need to justify it but, the guilt remains anyway, ignoring the logic of my answer.

Mal's Restless Night

A poem in progress (or perhaps in its final draft), Restless Night, can be found on 'Mal's factory'!

Shattered of a Sudden

That head-floating, gut-wrenching, muscle-nagging shatteredness wraps me of a sudden in its embrace. Yesterday the deeply gnawing muscle spasms, in limbs and torso, felt like a rebuke for having deigned to commit myself to Friday's minor exertions. At times it seems like a game of damned if ... (damned if you do, damned if you don't); accepting one's limitations is an important step towards avoiding a nightmare roller-coaster experience but, in that acceptance one also risks accepting a pretty colourless plateau of existence.

I've always been fortunate in having a rich life of the imagination, and a naggingly active spirituality; this has meant that the health imposed curtailing of my socializing activities didn't lead me into an immediate state of desolation. I have to admit though that the loss of contact with many people, especially those who I'd considered to be my friends, is something that I still find difficult, when I allow my mind to go there, more than seven years on from succumbing to this wretched illness.

At least I understand this early evening's sudden yielding to shatteredness; a connection with last night's discomfortingly disturbed sleep pattern seems pretty obvious! Expressing my dis-ease in words, in some way, alleviates its claustrophobic grip

Testing The Limits

Sometimes the stamina, or at least a small portion of it, seems to have returned along with a lurking fear that it's only a mirage. At first one treats it with caution, only too well aware of the consequence of any over exertion but, one is always tempted to test the limits. I've already suffered a moderate setback, in terms of feeling discomfortedly knocked out (rather more dis-eased than my familiar norm) on Thursday as a result of attending the meeting on Tuesday, even though the actual attendance there proved a great morale booster.

Wednesday found my beloved back at the dentist, her earlier trials and tribulations not yet at an end.

After Thursday mornings painfully aching shatteredness, a fresh influx of stamina seemed to come my way by Friday afternoon and, I actually managed to transfer some of the compost from the bottom of our (compost) bin across to one of the garden borders. The garden always seems to reward us well, in terms of floral display; a disproportionate gratitude for our puny endeavours.



Thursday and Friday both saw an abundance of avian visitors to our garden, nothing new, but a fair cross selection of our familiar visitors, goldfinches, blue tits, dunnocks, sparrows, blackbirds, robin, wood pigeon, collared doves, chaffinch etc but then, today saw only a very sparse sprinkling of any variety. Until this evening I'd forgotten all about the Big Garden Birdwatch so, I'll have to set an hour aside tomorrow, regardless of how representative it turns out to be!

Much Ado about Something

I still wait, in vain, for a stamina infusion but, I'm simultaneously resigned to such a miracle witholding its appearance. At least I managed to attend the Labour Party branch AGM last evening but, didn't have the physical or emotional reserves to hang around for the potentially more interesting ordinary meeting which followed it. It was good to meet some of the other party members and, get a feel for the prevalent mood and spectrum of its activists.



Although physically fairly shattered from this outing, the mental stimulus prevented me from getting a truly restful nights sleep. Actually, having just made that remark, I have to acknowledge that 'refreshing' sleep is, in my case, honoured more by its absence.


My beloved had an appointment with her dentist this morning, to have the majorly offending tooth extracted but, once more the visit took a disproportionate toll. On this occasion part of the problem was that the gum beneath the extracted tooth was still infected, despite the best efforts of a double course of antibiotics and, her dentist was left wondering why the maxillo-facial / dental consultant she saw at the hospital hadn't done more!

Where I Stand

 Last night brought me a better amount of sleep, retiring at 9.30pm and emerging at around 10.30am this morning (with one or two earlier intermittent  interludes of "wakefulness") but, my whole psychosomatic being still feels rather unrefreshed. I've just recently popped out into the garden to replenish the bird feeders and, subsequently witnessed a modest increase in the number of avian visitors to our estate! 

 

As I don't seem to have sufficient emotional stamina, at present, to do a proper post, I thought I'd share a comment I left last evening on one of the blog sites (The Socialist Way) that I frequently visit, as I think it reasonably summarizes where I stand politically.

 

 

Malcolm said...

It's a truism that Parliament will never be the means by which socialism, or any kind of equitable society, can be established - indeed the whole capitalist apparatus is antipathetic to fairness. This purportedly democratic system seems destined to control us, via the dictatorship of business and media moguls, as well as the armed and police forces, for a considerable time yet. Having said that, I did rejoin the Labour Party last year, not under an illusion that they will bring about any kind of anti-capitalist change but, in the vain hope that they may be restored to a party prepared to proclaim the aims of clause 4 part 4, and move (albeit only marginally) towards its enactment. One can but dream! What I've always found even more upsetting than the Labour Party's betrayal of the very people who established the original Labour Representation Committee, is the constant factional bickering between cadres of sundry revolutionary socialist groupings. (I have to admit that I wasted a fair amount of my younger years inadvertently entangled in the resulting schismatics).

 

19 January 2011 21:04

In A Spin

These sudden plunges still prove alarming, no matter how many times one experiences them; it's almost as if I could feel the colour draining from my face. In  an instant an overwhelming maelstrom of gut churning, muscle spasming, head spinning, washed-out giddiness, yields a fearful disorienting discomfort. A pulse racing, nauseating, vertigo veils every semblance of familiarity from one's immediate environment.

Perhaps, this time, it's a belated response to last night's extreme restlessness which was accompanied by randomised stabbing pains in the lower abdomen. My beloved arranged a GP appointment for me this morning; I was about due for a review, in any case, to check whether my current increased ppi dosage was proving beneficial. Today I saw a different doctor from the practice and, she has decided to try me on a different ppi, and has set up a further appointment for three weeks time to check on progress etc.

At the moment, my gastro-oesophageal problems seem to be in competition with other muscular aches, pains and spasms, in an attempt to grab my full attention.

EMERGING

EMERGING

and this morning

still abed  

my legs

are mercury laden

knitted lead

the arms

folded or stretched  

scream out

for postures new

Malcolm Evison

15/01/11

Unrefreshed

Last night, I once again pursued a pattern of erratically intermittent unrefreshing sleep; the primary evidence that I slept at all is the vague memory of awaking from rather fraught dreams. Of course there’s always the possibility that the memory itself is a false one.

That old familiar sensation, of sharply bruised aching discomfort emanating from the armpits, returned with a vengeance and, I was forced to remove my (not overly tight fitting) pyjama jacket to escape a sense of torso choking strangulation – armpits replacing the neck as the constricted airway. At this stage even my PJ trousers seemed to become an instrument of torture, the groin area coming out in sympathy with the armpits, and so were duly removed.

Unfortunately, as a result of the restless night, I lacked sufficient stamina to attend the funeral / thanksgiving service for a friend of mine and I am struggling to prevent this non-attendance adding to that burden of guilt about which I wrote yesterday.

On a more positive note, my beloved is finally starting to show signs of recovery from the events of last Monday and was able to attend the service along with Beth.

The Guilt Thing rears its head!

Just wish I could get over this guilt thing, it's getting worse if anything! For health reasons the majority of my social and political campaigning is done online, rarely do I have sufficient stamina to get out to attend vigils and / or meetings and, each time I receive notification of such events the guilt intensifies. It's almost as if I feel guilty for having a chronic health condition.

Of course it was with a great sense of relief I attained state pension age in 2009; having been dependent upon receiving benefits, for which one had to crawl and squirm through prohibitive hoops and obstacles, for a few years prior to that (following on from a reasonably productive period of working life which started when I left school in 1960) it was refreshing to receive my pension entitlement without having to perform such degrading gymnastics.

My greatest pleasure is derived from the familiar environs of home and garden, managing to do a little painting and writing when physical and emotional stamina permit as well as taking photos and videos of the garden's flora and fauna*. Stamina levels are frequently sufficient to manage the cooking, a wonderful creative outlet, and I am also fortunate in being able to cope with infrequent brief visits into town and even, on occasion, enjoying a dining out experience.

I suppose the guilt has intensified over the last few days, when I have become more aware of my limitations whilst attempting to care for ma belle who has had a rather rough week health-wise. If she hadn't been so unwell, there's no way that I could have persuaded her that she wasn't fit enough to go to work, or attend a church executive meeting; her great ability is to push through the barriers of exhaustion in order that she should not let anybody down.

 Admittedly, there was a time when I could quite happily burn the candle at both ends, whereas I now find the same candle frequently splutters itself out whilst so much remains to be done.

Most recently, I'd really love to attend the midnight vigil, being held this Saturday at Menwith Hill (USA spy base) just a few miles from our home, to mark 20 years of conflict in Iraq (1991 - 2011). Recent days have found me in bed by half-past eight in the evening, emerging from the duvet lair some 14 or 15 hours later, so attendance at this vigil is far from being practicable.

An attempt at a minor task of DIY, erecting a small bracket on masonry in our new porch for a Solar Sensor Light, resulted in the most frustrating failure. If I can't even manage to drill and plug a couple of holes succesfully, even being wearily overwhelmed in the attempt, my presence at any event is unlikely to be felt or missed!

________________________________________

* PS new visitors to our garden this week included Waxwings and Fieldfares - unfortunately both species proved a little camera shy (or maybe I was just too slow getting off my backside)!

An Unexpected Turn

 

Sometimes events take a turn far removed from the familiar; today was such a case. This morning I managed to get myself down to ‘Open Church’, for the first time since my pre-Christmas collapse there. Wrapped up in a warm overcoat and armed with an umbrella I boldly strode my way and, once there enjoyed some really stimulating conversation.

On my way back home I called in at the bakers to collect the wholemeal loaf so, there I was, open umbrella held in one hand and a loaf of bread in the other, heading for home when my mobile begins to ring. To be honest, this was one of very few occasions that I’d bothered to switch it on; I’ve never understood the necessity of holding telephonic conversations whilst ambling down the road. It was quite a juggling act to transfer the instrument from coat pocket to the proximity of my ear, encumbered as I was.

The voice at the other end, my elder step-daughter Beth, tells me that she doesn’t want to worry me but my beloved has been rushed to hospital. She’d apparently been taken ill whilst at the dentists. I knew that she was going to try to make an appointment, having been woken in the night with really painful toothache from an area where she’d lost a filling about a week ago. Although quite wiped out, energy-wise, she’d travelled over to her work in Wetherby, early this morning, where I subsequently discovered, she’d already begun to feel sick before arranging the appointment with her dentist back in Harrogate. The dentist had taken an x-Ray, and informed her that she would need a course of antibiotics to tackle an abscess, before she came over really ill.

Beth picked me up and ran me to the hospital where I found an atypically flush faced and cold-handed Helen. Her blood pressure had sky rocketed, once again very unusual for ma belle who traditionally has a remarkably (but healthily) low BP. Fortunately the ECG results showed no cause for concern and sundry blood samples were taken before she was sent for an X-Ray of the jaw. Whilst I waited with ma belle, Beth, with assistance from Cathy’s partner Ken, was able to get into town to collect her Mum’s car and deliver it back home for us. As a non-driver, I was of little use in these circumstances. Helen subsequently saw a consultant in the Maxillo Facial Surgery who made a few incisions and prescribed two lots of antibiotics.  

On several occasions, in the past couple of years, ma belle has had to come and hold my hand in A&E; today the tables were turned. I so frequently worry about the burden my ill health imposes upon my beloved, realizing how mutually dependent we are; today my concern was how helpless I may be if the burden of care shifted the other way. It was so fortuitous that Beth happened to have some holiday days this week and so, was available to perform such a valuable chauffeuring and messaging duties.

Once again I must express my gratitude to the NHS, especially the staff in A&E at Harrogate District Hospital. I only wish that the Health Service was in safer hands than those of the Tory ConDem coalition.

is it or isn't it?

If only it was possible to tell whether a symptom / ailment is that of a different illness rather than a further manifestation of the ongoing chronic condition! A cohort of gastro-intestinal, gastro-oesophageal, excruciating muscular and glandular aches and pains, brain-fog, orthostatic intolerance, sensory overload, chest and upper-abdominal pains, post-exertional malaise, cognitive dysfunction, can all be part of the underlying ME whilst, at the same time, any of these states could be symptomatic of another dis-ease or condition.

At what point does one call a GP or paramedics, without being considered a time-waster, as certain of the symptoms produce a distinctly different and disturbing awareness of one’s general condition. Frequently tests for a specific ailment or symptom come up with a negative result, rarely is a more holistic approach taken regarding one’s state of (well)being.

In recent months I’ve had several health scares, some that could be dealt with via surgery or medication whilst others have no apparent cause! The frustration of uncertainty tends to rebound against one’s residual wellness – a vicious cycle.

Sorry, I don’t mean to be on a downer; I’m just a bit fed-up of not feeling well.

 It’s now well over seven years since I last felt really well but, at least I’m grateful that I’m only a ‘moderate’ sufferer. At least I’ve been blessed with a considerable portion of remission days, for which I give thanks, and  a wonderful wife and lover (who happens to be one and the same person)!

Atherton Walking Day 1950

Atherton Walking Day (24 June 1950)

Atherton Walking Day (25 June 1950)

Having just uncovered these two photographs, releasing them from their glass and passepartout frames, a sudden surge of nostalgia overwhelmed me ( memories of mugs of black peas during Wakes week in  this Lancashire town - came to the fore!).

On the back of the makeshift frames, my father (who was at that time a pastor with the International Holiness Mission - soon to be taken over by the Church of the Nazarene) had written the dates as shown above. I know that the 24th June was a Saturday so, I suspect that is more likely to be the correct date.

Church walking days seemed to have been a strong tradition in the North West of England but, I've been unable to confirm the date of such walks in Atherton. My first instinct was to think it would have been a Whitsuntide walk as such events were held in some of the other chapels, scattered around the country, that I attended during my childhood, but that would have been at the end of  May (not June). I have subsequently discovered that different churches in different parts of the North West held their walks on different days.

Just hoping that, on an off-chance, someone reading this may be able to answer my question regarding the date of this walk.


Incidentally, the David arrowed in my crude annotation is my elder brother.

(clicking on either image will take you to a larger copy of the picture)

Customer Dis-service

A RIGHT LOT OF BANKERS

Several weeks ago, part way through an online transaction - transferring money from a savings account to the account of my wife (with the same bank) - I was suddenly denied access and, informed after a prolonged telephonic confrontation that my access would be restored within 48 hours.

Less than twenty-four hours later my access was restored. On this occasion, part way through my visit I was met with a screen displaying the following information:

Service Interruption

One or more of our systems are temporarily unavailable.

This means that you will not be able to proceed at this time.

We are aware of the problem, and hope to fix it soon, so please

try again later. We apologise for any inconvenience.

On each subsequent attempt to access my accounts, my password and security questions having been accepted, I am greeted with the same message. This bank holds one of our joint current accounts, as well as individual savings and credit card accounts but, I am unable to access any of these.

Meantime, my wife has no such proble accessing our joint and her personal accounts but, unfortunately has no access to my individual accounts. I have tried using different pc’s, laptop and desktop, and using different browsers – all this effort to no avail. Even during a ‘phone call to the bank’s helpline, I was encouraged to attempt to sign in using my wife’s laptop and once more met with the same screen message. A ‘phone call, made by my wife this evening, to try and sort out the problem proved less useful than the proverbial chocolate fireguard.

Even if I enjoyed better health I would be totally exasperated, as it is the situation serves to make me feel even more unwell.

Wishing You a Happy and Healthy New Year