just as I am - and do not wish to be

Tuesday morning I removed myself from the duvet lair bright and early, feeling unusually alert and refreshed. It was only later in the day that I started to suffer for this foolhardiness, as I became a totally shattered wreck, and I’m still struggling – four and a half days later - to regain my usual familiarly limited reserves of stamina.

Headaches, giddiness, muscular pains and spasms, tenderness in armpits and under the chin, a bruised feeling around the ribcage alongside a sore throat and roof of the mouth, such have been the rewards for my carelessness.

To be perfectly honest, I suspect the ‘early morning’ was simply the carelessly thrown match landing on a tinder pile which would have self-combusted sooner or later.

Another bout of perspiration, suddenly oozing from forehead, chest and arms, seems to prefigure a renewed surge of shattered exhaustion. Frustration swiftly follows as I teeter on the brink of despair, feebly yielding to a flow of tears; a plenitude of gnawing aches destroys any semblance of composure.

Whatever Happens - (or A Customer Dis-service)

Whatever Happens don’t expect a reasonable service. Early this morning I had occasion to contact PC World’s ‘Whatever Happens’ service as a Packard Bell desktop, purchased less than two years ago (from PC World) and covered by a three year “Whatever Happens” warranty, had gone dead.

On ringing the necessary number on this 24/7 service, and having pushed sundry  buttons on the telephone in an attempt to follow the commands issued by a disembodied telephonic voice, I eventually got through to a real life voice. At this point I was urged to disconnect all leads from the non-functioning PC and press the power switch on whilst repeatedly tapping F8. Not even a beep was heard as I could have told him; no BIOS – no anything.

This wonderful service promises an engineer on the next working day but, according to the technician, that no longer applies as there were too many call outs and the engineer didn’t necessarily have the right components. Why they didn’t have the right components is something of a mystery as they have full knowledge of the machine model which they’re going to be servicing!

Next, he told me that they would collect it tomorrow but was unable to give me a time. Evidently it is the customer’s responsibility to go online after 9.00pm to get a rough idea of when they will be calling. Service obviously isn’t their concern whatever happens. Even the phone call (some 40 odd minutes duration I think)to an 0844 number, is at the customer’s expense and, the PC base unit will be away for a full week. So much for a next day service!

Whatever happens, remember their warranties are subject to change without informing the customer.

 Don’t expect good service – WHATEVER HAPPENS! That way you’ll not be disappointed.

paucity of posts

sometimes I manage, and even enjoy, a bit of socializing - at others I struggle - things aren't too bad at the moment but I just don't seem to have the right kind of stamina to get down to any writing, hence the paucity of blog posts. Meantime I have posted a few more piccies on 'Mal's Picturebox'

wallowing

crash

just when I seemed to be bearing up well, a sudden shatteredness occurred - intermittently extreme discomfort in limbs & torso, aching eyes and ears, together with ultra touch sensitive back & shoulders - fatigue is the least of my worries!

an eventful time

Wow! What a week of varying fortunes; a visit (hopefully) to see the out of hours doctor led to a referral to A&E and a subsequent overnight stay at the hospital.

During the day on Sunday, a bruisedly crushing sensation across the chest, radiating from proximity of the sternum, coincided with shooting pains in my left arm. The latter coincidence was the real worry factor as I’d earlier put the cause of the chest pains down to indigestion.

The main problem is that I frequently experience shooting pains in the arm but rarely, if ever, have they coincided with chest pains. Early evening the chest pains returned, more painfully crushing and making it difficult to catch my breath, whilst simultaneously I suddenly felt cold (as the sun poured in through the window); it was almost as if I could feel the blood draining from my face and extremities. I felt totally achingly light-headed.

I knew that if I ‘phoned the “out of hours” doctor, as soon as my age and chest pains were mentioned, they’d be suggesting an ambulance. A short while later I headed down to the hospital, with ma belle chauffeuse, and the rest is history.

Having taken an ECG and a few phials of blood, I was duly informed that they would be admitting me overnight, for monitoring, and a further blood test would need to be taken twelve hours after the last bout of pain. The second lot of blood was taken at around 5.30am when I was informed that the consultant wanted me to have a chest X-Ray. I was wheeled down to the X-Ray department shortly before 1.00pm and, as all the tests proved negative, discharged when ma belle came to collect me at 1.40pm. I must say that the lunch I had on the ward, in contrast to my previous hospital stay, was really good, roast turkey with mashed and new potatoes, stuffing, beans and swede.

**********

Tuesday was ma belle’s Birthday and Cathy (my younger step-daughter) treated us, together with Ken (her partner) and Beth (my elder step-daughter), to an early evening meal at Luigi’s. Much to my surprise, having had a restful couple of days, I was on sparkling form (as the long lost demon once more found his rightful place on my shoulder).

Wednesday evening we had an “at home”, a further celebration of Helen’s birthday, when people called in any time from 6.00pm to around 11.00pm. Apart from a little socializing, videoing & snapping the event, I also allocated myself the function of wine glass filler & head washer up. I almost managed to overlook my familiar aches & pains midst all the distractions.

Much rest became the overarching theme of subsequent days but, I’m here and enjoying the company of my beloved as always.

Woes and Gratitude

It’s becoming increasingly difficult not to sound like a moaning wimp. It isn’t that I feel much worse than has become my familiar norm and, I’ve frequently experienced more excruciating aches and pains than at present, but it’s an overall sense of feeling ‘off-colour’ that nags and gnaws at me for at least half of my waking hours.

It’s almost impossible to get used to those times when one suddenly experiences a cloying, gut-wrenching, nauseating giddiness, and sudden change from warm to cold skin as the colour can almost be felt draining away from ones face. Sometimes the overall sense of queasiness persists for only a few minutes, before the healthier glow returns, at other times the period of dis-ease is much more prolonged.

The spastic colon & diverticular disease randomly asserts itself, with little regard to whether I’ve maintained a regular dose of anti-spasmodic pills (mebeverine) but, fortunately the ppi’s (lansoprazole) function reasonably well in curbing the worst excesses of gastro-oesophageal reflux (although there are some days when, come bedtime, I still require a dose of antacids.

On a positive note, I’ve suddenly realized that up to this point no mention has been made of the painful aches in the upper limbs (not infrequently emanating from the armpit) as these are currently adequately controlled by doses of tramadol. So, I conclude on a note of gratitude once again; if only the flow of thanksgiving could overwhelm the woes that flesh is heir to!

ME - my body - a little moderation

Reduced my hours ensconced in the duvet lair to the usual twelve (last PM – this AM) but, as is far too common, I didn’t feel much refreshed as I emerged into the mid-morning grey. Muzzy head, sore throat and lower limbs feeling rubbery leaden, I didn’t even contemplate venturing as far as Open Church this morning, so I restricted my exercise to a faltering stroll to the local bakery to collect our wholemeal loaf.

Once I’d decided on the bakery goal, I popped a fully stamped up Café Culture loyalty card in my pocket, to claim a free drink on my way back to the house; such was my clarity of thought and intention that I walked straight past the Café on both outward and return journeys, forgetting to claim myself a treat!

The hours hung most heavily by mid-afternoon as I drifted into a somewhat discomforting intermittent nap; an hour spent in this condition felt like an eternity of awakened drudgery. At this point my old familiar pains in upper limbs, from armpit to wrist, kicked in once again but were alleviated reasonably quickly with 100mg of tramadol.

Overall though, I can’t complain as I’ve frequently had much worse days than this and, I remain grateful that I’m only a moderate sufferer.

Stormy Weather

My most recent flood of tears almost put the current downpour of rain and hail to shame. A prolonged wearily exhausted phase of being has not always been easy to cope with; even an almost constant bruising constricted sensation across chest and upper abdomen fails to overwhelm the spasmodic aches and pains in the upper limbs (apparently emanating from the armpits).

Having emerged from the duvet lair, some thirteen hours after retiring thence, I went downstairs to prepare a chicken, peppers and mushroom casserole for dinner, as well as parboiling some potatoes in water infused with my special blend of herbs and spices. By the time the initial preparations were done I was ready for another rest; I duly retired to the lounge and enjoyed watching our avian visitors in the garden. Goldfinch, coal tits, blue tits, house sparrows, blackbirds and wood pigeons all vied for my attention.

After lunch we transferred some video footage of Wesley Chapel’s Anniversary and rededication service, from 1994, to DVD. It was good recognizing some old familiar faces in choir, congregational pews and pulpit, and it’s especially interesting as that is now Helen’s home chapel, just as it was for my parents in their later years. As I finalized the DVD a fascinating Human Planet documentary, which had just started on BBC1, captured our attention.

We both enjoyed watching the Senior School Choir of the year semi-final and, the three choirs chosen to go through to the final coincided with our selection. Shortly after that programme had finished my problems began; as I sat down following a visit to the loo I suddenly found myself breathless as my chest and abdomen felt as if they were being held in a vice and, I felt my colour drain away (the pallor duly observed by my beloved) and felt very nauseous. The crushing aches and pains were vying for attention everywhere from shoulder, through the torso and down to the lower limbs. As I gasped for breath, the tears began to flow and I felt terribly afraid, just feeling totally terrible. The tears flowed for at least twenty minutes as the sundry symptoms became unbearable.

I am just relieved to feel normal (with my old familiar lower level aches and pains) once again. as I sit and enjoy the company of my beloved!   

it's just another day at Mal's Factory

What was to be a new blog post, just another day, turned out to be a poem. It can be found on 'Mal's Factory'

of spoonie normality

Each time I’ve set out to write a blog post, of late, an insufficiency of either/and/or physical, intellectual or emotional stamina has managed to suppress the desire. That  statement gets me to thinking, once again, of normality; when ones reserves of stamina, or effects of sundry aches and pains, are totally unpredictable (not only one day but even one hour to the next) what kind of criteria should one apply in order to define a normal day?

Contrary to the hopes and wishes implied at the close of my “much ado about little” posting (24 March), a considerable degree of payback was evident in the succeeding days. The most positive thing I can say about the excruciatingly shattered low days is that they enable me to appreciate, albeit retrospectively in some cases, the goodly number of better ones that I am blessed with!

Easter Day

As Easter Approaches

much ado about little

The current pleasant weather could prove dangerous!

Yesterday afternoon found me briefly pottering about in the garden; this morning I once again exerted myself (a little) tidying up and, transferring a wonderfully rich humus from the bottom of the composter into a barrow.

At that point it suddenly felt like I was about to hit the wall; it was almost as if I could hear the muscles groan through their sluggish response to every bit of exertion.

Come the afternoon I even ventured out for a little walk!

It would be nice if for once there's no payback.

a not quite inadvertent nature watch

just rediscovered this note from a couple of days ago and as no other words are seeking urgent release thought I should post it just as it is

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

Having been blessed with glorious sunshine, for at least parts of several recent days, today's sky seems to promise some quite imminent rainfall. As I write the sun has once again broken through the cloud cover; whilst other areas of the country are having hosepipe bans imposed, in these parts there's certainly been no shortage of the watery stuff.

The bright sunshiny mornings have brought the depths of shrubberies alive with an intensity of chatter from the house sparrows, whilst dunnocks trill their melody from higher, more exposed, twigs and branches.

At some point each day, regardless of whether I manage to get out of the house, I have the privilege of watching the red kite(s) circling on the thermals.

and suddenly ....

And suddenly the floodgates open, not a result of any dramatic trauma more like tripping over the everyday! A renewed period of feeling below par, even by my own undemanding standards, inevitably gnaws away at ones self-esteem. Whilst I have so much to be thankful for I still can’t avoid feeling guilty for the restrictions my own health problems place on my beloved.

Today, just ma belle’s suggestion that we go for lunch to the local café was sufficient to set the tears a-flowing; we both enjoy our visits to Café Culture but, with the recent return of quite excruciating pains to my lumbar region, I felt I would be much more comfortable staying at home. Almost immediately the pangs of guilt set in as I felt that my not feeling up to dining out was simultaneously denying my beloved the pleasure.

In recent weeks I’ve been spared the (formerly routine) aches and spasms of the lower limbs, feeling that at least part of me is finally on the mend but, the pains in the arms – starting as if a sustained attack (in vicinity of the elbow) is being made on the funny bone, before gnawingly boring into the armpit and, at other times a nausea inducing ache in the wrist travels slowly up the arm – seem to have increased in frequency as if by way of compensation.

The simple task of removing the ornamental rock from our main aquarium, in order to remove the excess algae, on Monday afternoon, led in turn to painful pulled muscles around the right shoulder blade which subsequently seem to have joined forces with more acute pains in the small of my back.

And suddenly ….  I play the wimp again!

three poems for Helen

 

                                 THAT DAY (for Helen)

                                  That day we found each other,

or perhaps the day

found us.

Though neither of us knew

what we were looking for,

a clasp of hands, an affirmation

of each others presence -

meant more

than either of us knew.

That day we found

each other -

and suddenly we knew.

          Malcolm Evison

TRANSFORMED

(for Helen)

Right now I feel

the urge to scream

forget the aching limbs

dance deftly

on the brim

of my emotions.

Right now

I feel the lure of love

the light

that breaches

my stoical defence.

I see your face

I glow with joy -

right now

there is no you or I

as we rejoice.

Right now I am

alive with you -

I feel -

imbibe the air of this

our perfect world.

                                      Malcolm Evison

 

EMBRACE

Wrapped in each other                     

we break illusions

of our separateness.

As bodies merge

we lose location

finding our place

in vaster schemes.

Thanksgiving, sanctified

with each embrace,

transmits a joy

beyond our reckonings.

Today

love knows no bounds.

                                Malcolm Evison

twelve years on

Today is the twelfth anniversary of my marriage to Helen; on the one hand it seems amazing that all those years have passed and yet, at the same time, it feels as if we’ve always known one another. Not a day goes by that we don’t express our love for one another both verbally and (hopefully) by our actions.

Although during this time I’ve succumbed to moderate ME (an unwelcome intruder since 2003) and sundry other, probably related, chronic conditions, I can still say in all honesty these have been the best years of my life. It’s almost impossible to imagine any quality of life where we are not together.

plus ca change

One soon tires of broadcasting their bad health news, hence the paucity of postings over recent days; I await some positive bright notes with which to intersperse my ailing prose.

In so many ways I feel blessed, adoring and being adored by ma belle, having the wherewithal to keep reasonably warm regardless of what the elements have in store and, constantly being charmed and uplifted by the variety of avian visitors to the garden. What a privilege it is living relatively close to a town centre whilst, from my fireside chair, I can observe a gliding circling red kite, a charm of goldfinches embracing the nyjer seed feeders, and a bullfinch refreshing itself at the birdbath. Flurries of sparrows bound to and fro from shrubbery to feeders, as blackbirds turn over leaf-mould, amidst the reluctantly thawing residue of last weekends snow fall, at the far end of the garden.

Aches and pains in the lower limbs have been less frequent visitors during recent weeks but, those in armpit and upper arm still manage to unnerve me with their accompanying symptoms of nausea and griping crushing sensation in shoulders and rib-cage.

Having finished my large dose of antibiotics to sort out a little diverticular infection, a week last Monday, I was somewhat disappointed when the griping spasms and far too regular explosive evacuations once again took control earlier this week - a type of hyperactivity that drastically interferes with any more normal (socializing) activity. I'm just hoping that a combination of mebeverine and loperamide will enable a swift resolution.

(doing the) anniversary wash

Today was one of those anniversaries, a day when I determined to take a shower (whether I needed it or not), only to be harshly reminded of the reason that showers have become a less frequent event in the life of yours truly. By the time I'd showered, much of the time spent seated, a sense of overwhelming exhaustion (thankfully transient) took control as I stepped out and attempted to towel myself dry.

The past ten days or so have found me once again taking a roller-coaster ride in terms of my general health, ranging from a rare sense of assurance and well-being (following on from an intensive time of prayer) to times when even the sound of one sheet of paper sliding across another was sufficient to turn me into a shaking quivering wreck. On another occasion I was able to bask in the warm golden flow emanating from the acupuncture needles, a time of complete relaxation.

I'm not sure whether my current course of antibiotics, metronidazole 400mg (x3 daily) and ciprofloxacin 500mg (x2 daily) prescribed for an intestinal infection, contributes anything to, or even mildly militates against, any overall sense of comfort.

I remain, as usual, a work in progress.

of appointments and pent-up frustrations

Last Saturday found me out in the garden doing a bit of lopping, pruning and trimming of sundry shrubs. I must have spent a little over an hour enjoying a gloriously sunshiny day, as the shrubs ensured work for idle hands. Two days later, by way of reward for these endeavours, a day of numbingly aching body and soul when even switching on a kettle seemed far too great an effort.

Mid-way through my waking hours on Tuesday, I started to feel reasonably recovered (from the tortuous preceding day) so there was little to suggest the tear-fuelled emotional response to a visit to my GP’s surgery the following day.

My appointment on Wednesday afternoon was with the same GP referred to in the post “once more to the land of A&E”, and therefore a most positive prospect. Once in the consulting room, the atmosphere seemed overwhelmingly business-like as, within the allocated 10 minutes, he wanted to focus solely on symptoms of breathlessness and chest pains, thereby excluding all other aches, pains and painful disorders, from the equation. He said he was going to arrange an appointment with the cardiology department and was also sending me for further blood tests, as well as a Glucose tolerance test (requested by one of the practice nurses who had been checking my NHS Health Check results). It was also mentioned, in passing that I’d not kept appointments with the Chronic Fatigue Unit and, they had now discharged me! For the truth of this see my post “psycho-fatigue”, (which describes my departure from an assessment visit at which I informed the psychologist I wouldn’t be paying any further visits to the Unit and, hence, discharged myself).

As I headed back home, with my beloved, I was overwhelmed with a pent-up frustration and tears flooded out. I felt as if I was being treated as a chest-pain, not at all as a person! When I got home the tears flowed even more freely and I declared that I wouldn’t bother with any of their b…dy tests. Being told that I’d failed to keep appointments at the psycho-fatigue unit, a false surmise, turned out to be the final straw that released all the pent-up frustration.

Ma Belle swiftly contacted the surgery to inform them how distraught I was after the appointment. A short time later I received a ‘phone call from the same GP I had seen earlier, as he wanted to understand why I should be so upset and, at the same time apologized if he’d misread the situation and seemed too business-like!

Early evening our doorbell rang – an unexpected visitor had arrived! The doctor, having finished his surgery duties, had in his own time called around to visit us and enquire what he could do to help! I was assured that he hoped to take a holistic approach and, he once again apologized for misreading the situation. Talk about going the extra mile! The visit ended most amicably and I will be seeing him again on Monday for a further twenty minute consultation.

Meanwhile I’m bracing myself for tomorrow’s early morning bloodletting session at the District Hospital.

once more to the land of A&E

Yesterday morning I was feeling a little more shattered than is my norm but, I managed to remove myself from the duvet lair by 11.30. A brief bout of surfing the web provoked no enthusiasm so, I settled for applying Windows Update to sundry machines whilst listening to something or other on the radio.

Early afternoon, when ma belle and Beth had returned from a mini shopping spree, I prepared a griddled salmon, peppers and mushroom stir fry served with jacket potatoes but, during this (none too taxing) food preparation I began to feel a bit more jaded than usual, even becoming a little stressed.

At about 16.00hrs, I walked with ma belle to collect a prescription from my GP practice, approximately five minutes walking time; I found myself struggling to keep pace with Helen and, apart from aching lower limbs, I became a little breathless. Having collected the prescription the next phase was to drop it into the pharmacist whilst we went to the café a couple of doors along.

That’s when things began to fall apart; even the few yards walk seemed a daunting task as giddiness, breathlessness and a tight constricting sensation in chest and abdomen took control. My beloved took me back into the pharmacists where I found a seat and was proffered a glass of water. An overwhelming cloying discomfort through head, torso and limbs, briefly took control before I began to feel more settled. Meantime, ma belle chauffeuse had brought the car around to the pharmacy to run me back home.

This being the second time in a few days when I’ve experienced such un-nerving symptoms, it seemed a good idea to try to fix an appointment with one of the GPs in my practice. A doctor spoke to me, and ma belle, over the ‘phone and, he thought it imperative that I went down to A&E at the District Hospital.

I was really impressed by the efficiency and thoroughness of clerks, nurses and doctor in the department. I was sent through for initial assessment, BP check etc., within ten minutes of reporting at reception and was wired up for an ECG within thirty minutes. The doctor who examined me was extremely thorough, imbuing me with some much needed confidence, as he sounded out my chest and painstakingly examined the whole abdominal region. He inserted a canula in my arm in preparation for taking several phials of blood for testing, and then requested a urine sample.

The GP, who had suggested I attend A&E, had already checked with the department that I’d arrived and enquired how I was. My blood pressure was rather high (high blood pressure seems to be trending with me these days), even the diastolic had gone soaring, the first couple of times it was checked. Later, my blood pressure was checked again, this time in both supine and standing positions.

Once blood test results had been obtained the doctor returned and re-examined my abdominal region. As the blood tests were all clear he prepared me for discharge but, I then had to wait for some antibiotics to be dispensed as the urine sample had shown up an infection. Once again I must express my gratitude for a wonderful NHS and hope, campaign, and pray that the Tory plans to destroy it can be de-railed.

This morning, shortly after 9.00am, my GP rang me to see how I was. With such concern being shown, I am more than ever convinced that my transferring to the neighbourhood doctors’ surgery, from the one I’d been with since the 1970s, was totally fortuitous.

early one morning

Friday morning, removed myself from the duvet lair at a markedly early hour which, viewed retrospectively, was a big mistake. Rather than my usual time of arising, some time after 10.30 - followed by a period of relaxation, this morning I was up and dressed before 9.00am in order to keep an appointment with my dentist. Apart from the unearthly hour, a further source of discomfort was a bout of diarrhoea requiring me to dose myself with loperamide before leaving the house.

Ma belle parked the car some five to eight minutes walk from the dental practice which, in the circumstances, turned out to be a further mistake. Long before we had reached my goal, an all enveloping sense of shatteredness set in, starting with the lower limbs. On arrival at the dentists, an urgent visit to the loo was necessitated, on return from which I was overwhelmed by the encroaching shatteredness, a painfully discomforting sensation of giddiness and general disorientation.

By this time I’d evidently become totally drained of colour, and the receptionist called for the dental surgeon to come through to reception. R, the dentist, decided it would be unwise to proceed with the current appointment and, she sat with me whilst my beloved went to collect the car, and bring it to the door, to chauffeur me home. Meantime, an afternoon appointment has been made for later in the month and, the dentist told me that if I feel at all unwell it’s alright to cancel even if it’s only five minutes before the appointed time.

It was the first time that this medical professional had ever seen me looking unwell, regardless of my sundry ailments; seems to be par for the course with any invisible illness. The only time that others encounter oneself outside the homestead is, by definition, on a better day.

of flight and storm clouds

Yesterday ma belle et moi spent six swiftly fleeting hours, 14.30 onwards, at my freshly re-discovered friend Kay’s apartment, where we enjoyed much conversation and a wonderful array of refreshments. Before venturing out I’d already had to resort to sundry medicaments, having experienced a considerable degree of discomfort, but during those socializing hours I, thankfully, only experienced the most moderate discomfort.

The subsequent restless night came as little surprise and, as per my norm, I re-emerged from the duvet realm, this morning, feeling more than a degree under refreshed! Early afternoon found me still in reasonably good spirits, considering the previous day’s exertions, but no sooner had my optimism (in matters of health) begun to take flight than the storm clouds rolled in.

A sudden throbbing ache in both biceps necessitated an urgent squeezing of the upper arms against the torso. Shortly afterwards the all too familiar intense gnawing discomfort in the armpits took hold. A painful ache in the wrists, alternating between dull bruise-like and sharp burning throbs, was somewhat alleviated by the application of splints, as I awaited the relief proffered by an additional dose of tramadol.

The disposition of my upper limbs underwent a most flamboyant choreography as I shifted them from an extended posture behind the back, to clamping them tightly by my side whilst I sat on my splinted hands. The armpits continued to feel tortuously tickled, hollowly crumbling, provoking an intense sensation of dis-ease and nausea.

Having recovered sufficiently from that earlier dis-ease, I am now settled down with my beloved, to enjoy Prokofiev’s ‘Cinderella’ ballet [BBC4].  This festive season, the Beeb have already treated us to The Nutcracker Ballet as well as a ballet based upon Alice's Adventures in Wonderland - how's that for pampering!

^^^^^^^^^^
my New Year Greetings have been posted on 'Mal's Murmurings'

Of Celebration and Payback

And just when you think it’s all going well, the old devil returns.

 During the past few weeks I’d been enjoying copious doses of Advent and Christmas music, predominantly of the sacred variety, as I looked forward to our quiet Christmas celebrations (just ma belle Helen, Beth and myself). To be perfectly honest, I was quite surprised by how well I’d managed Christmas decorations, food preparation, and sundry minor pressures such festivities may place upon one. Admittedly, the run up to Christmas week wasn’t without an occasional venture into the realm of shatteredness, with spasmodic eruptions of acute pain.

As lunch-time on Boxing Day approached, my chronically throbbing aching wrists allied themselves with intense convulsive pains in both biceps and shoulders. It felt as if my torso was being crushed whilst, simultaneously, being stretched on a rack. The effort of holding the DVD recorder’s remote control, in readiness for starting off a recording, seemed to set every nerve-ending on edge; a kind of pulsating bruise surged through my forearms and shoulders which, in turn, contributed to an all pervasive feeling of nausea.

For the first time in ages, the degree and intensity of pain and discomfort produced a convulsive sobbing response.

I love and adore my family, every moment spent with ma belle amoureuse affirms the privilege of love, and I always wish to affirm all the most positive values and emotions that the season represents. The joy of the season is somewhat marred by the realization / recognition that even my somewhat low-key exertion, as we prepare and celebrate, seems to demand a degree of excruciating payback in return.

moments magic

The ache, the joy and pain of transience;

this morning I experienced

 that almost

 indescribable ache and joy -

a mystical moment -

 a Red Kite wheeled and soared

 over our garden

floodlit by a clear blue sunlit sky.

Within minutes -

 of the bird venturing further afield -

heavy grey clouds had swamped out the sunlight.

Malcolm Evison

No rest for the shattered!

Yesterday was the busiest day I’ve spent for a considerable period of time; our friends Roy & Jacqui visited us mid-morning for a little chat. The course of the conversation, over the next three to four hours, was by turns both intimate and challenging, and covered reflection on our sundry life experiences, matters of faith, healing, and the place and limitations of reason. The person of Jesus the Christ proved a central focus to this time of fellowship.

A couple of hours after our visitors departure, Helen and I headed off to the Acorn Centre, where Helen helps as a volunteer, for their Christmas Party. The traditional Christmas dinner was cooked to perfection, and the chef received a very warm round of applause just as he’d intended to sneak quietly away! We enjoyed a quiz which followed the meal; the fact that ours was the winning team probably added a little extra to our enjoyment, and we were then entertained by the music group whose enthusiasm always compensates for any musical limitations. After three hours my body was telling me it was time to go and, I felt quite shattered by the time we arrived back home.

Although I felt achingly tired, by the time I attempted to immerse myself in the duvet realm, an intense excruciating discomfort in shoulders, armpits and upper limbs generally, made it impossible to find a restful posture. My whole body was convulsively shuddering as I, repeatedly, failed to find an appropriately comfortable position. A primary distraction from this upper limb discomfort was my essential response to the, all too familiar, erratically spasmodic intestinal convulsions.

An additional dose of tramadol was called for, before a sufficient easing of the upper limbs and torso discomfort was found. Having got into bed at around 22.15hrs, I eventually found a degree of comfort by 01.45hrs but, even then, an overactive/over-stimulated mind ensured that I remained awake until at least 06.00hrs.

a wimp addresses the nation

To be perfectly honest, I’m not coping at all well; I feel like the A1 definition of a wimp. It’s the way a set of (quite minor) incidents so easily seem to form an insurmountable aggregate of frustration, that’s really getting to me.

A simple combination of orthostatic intolerance, intermittent excruciating muscular dis-ease, spastic colon and diverticular discomfort, shouldn’t in principle detract from a full enjoyment of life but, when they collude, the bastards do tend to get one down!

sorry 'bout this ...

For the past hour and a half, since about 17.30hrs, I’ve been divided between allowing myself to drift off to sleep or struggling to remain awake. It’s a regular occurrence mid to late afternoon to be fending off an excruciating fatigue, seemingly regardless as to the amount of sleep I’ve managed to grab the preceding night and morning; un-refreshing intermittent nocturnal sleep has just about been par for the course these past several years. Currently I’m sat with both wrists splinted in an attempt to alleviate an extremely discomforting ache in both hands and forearms, alongside a nausea inducing uneasiness in the armpits which requires me to squeeze the upper arms tightly in to the torso.

At least, today, I am not experiencing any submandibular aches and pain, nor is my spastic colon (or the diverticular disease) troubling me as much as it has done for the past several days. Even my lower limbs seem relatively trouble free.

Sorry, but current discomfort prevents any further keyboard endeavour for the time being …

Journeying On

The rather more upbeat days continued through to Tuesday of this week; I was even able to visit ‘Open Church’ on two successive days, Monday and Tuesday, for coffee and conversation. Admittedly, sundry medications still have their role to play as part of a general coping mechanism but, it really is great to feel rather more comfortable within my corporeal frame. At the conclusion of Tuesday’s visit I welcomed the prayers of Roy and Jacqueline that I may discern a readiness / preparedness for healing. As one who constantly strives to rationalize their faith, I have difficulty in accepting that simple spiritual gift.

Wednesday saw something of a setback in terms of muscular and joint pain but, more disconcertingly, painful intestinal grumblings (and hyper-activity) put paid to any notion of venturing beyond the confines of the house. Fortunately, recent positive activities have served to keep any acute sense of frustration at bay. By Thursday afternoon I was able to cautiously venture out to Café Culture and, I visited the café once again on Friday in the company of ma belle and Beth.

This evening I’ve prepared a casserole in readiness for Sunday dinner, a spiced chicken, mushroom and peppers casserole; even though I’ve had a healthy sufficiency of food during the day, this dish has certainly tantalized the tastebuds.

joyous participation

After the preceding rather downbeat post, it comes as something of a relief to be able to report a few days when low key socializing has become very much a part of the week’s routine. Opportunities to participate in quite sustained periods of conversation / dialogue, and a corresponding sufficiency of emotional stamina, have felt almost like little miracles.

It has been far too long since I was a participant, or felt able to participate, in such animated conversation on matters of faith, politics and general life experience. I feel greatly blessed in meeting R. and J. at ‘Open Church’, on Monday, and the subsequent conversation chez nous.  I’ve managed to find the stamina to visit Open Church on three occasions this week, as well as attending and contributing to a lively meeting of the local Labour Party branch and, thoroughly enjoying an evening meal with Janet & Graham at their home in Killinghall.

Wow, I almost feel exhausted by the realization that I’ve been able to manage so much this week.

For all of this I am truly thankful!

from Minor to the more mundane

Sometimes the desire to communicate "from" overwhelms the paucity of substance from which one may wish to communicate. At others, that very desire (to communicate) is thwarted by an insufficiency of physical and/or emotional stamina. I am, currently, undergoing a rather prolonged wilderness trek.

Whilst I observe nature's changing seasons, primarily in the context of our gardens flora and fauna, I'm reluctant to admit to my own ageing. Having already felt rather decrepit, for a considerable period of time, the next season for me hardly bears thinking about; much better that I skip a season and pray for Spring's renewal.

The furthest my adventurous spirit has allowed me to travel of late is 'Open Church' at our local parish church or, even closer to home, 'Cafe Culture' located within a few hundred yards of our front door.

 A somewhat spastic colon puts paid to any desire to venture further afield whilst sundry, at times excruciating, muscular aches and pains contribute little to any such desire. Discomforting armpit and submandibular tenderness, an erratically irregular sore throat, acid reflux and post nasal drip, are worthy daytime adjuncts to nocturnal restlessness, night sweats and unrefreshing sleep.

Life is never without its drama, as one may be instantly transported from a state of relative alertness to that of a shattering exhaustion.

psycho-fatigue

Yesterday, I wasted a morning by attending an appointment at the chronic fatigue unit. After an initial, fairly lengthy, chat with an OT I had to wait in a corridor until a social psychologist deigned to materialize.

When the psycho did emerge I felt that there was something lacking in the interpersonal skills department. She seemed determined to prove that all my problems, aches and pains etc., must somehow boil down to low self-esteem and/or money & security worries. Way off beam!

Having mentioned my problems in coping with bustling supermarkets, sensory overload etc. and, the need to sit down and/or get out into the fresh air, it seemed as if the wind in her tail was forcing her to posit an absurd hypothetical supermarket where I was unable to find a seat and there was no way out - how would I react? Obviously I wasn't going to waste my time answering such a ludicrous hypothesis and, after about the fifth repeat of the question, by way of a response I told her I was leaving and duly walked out.

Although I was quite calm, apart from not suffering fools gladly,she followed me out into the corridor stating that she didn't intend to cause me to have a panic attack; even if she had intended to, I'm afraid that she would have failed abysmally!

Having released myself from the duvet realm a good hour earlier than is my norm, in order to attend,and subsequently spending an exhausting 110 minutes in the department, I was relieved to escape from the Wessely-an lair.

of needles and needless worries

The physiotherapist called again on Wednesday afternoon, as promised, to administer a gentle treatment with the magic needles whilst I sat in a chair, rather than my usual supine position. At first I found it more difficult to relax whilst seated but, as I practised a few breathing exercises, I soon overcame this little obstacle. By the time the practitioner was ready to remove the needles I felt wrapped in a gently warm glow of relaxation.

On Thursday I felt even more achingly tired than usual; incidentally this kind of minor setback, on the day following acupuncture treatment, is quite regularly experienced by yours truly, the benefits usually start to be felt around 48 hours after the treatment. Although feeling totally shattered when I went to bed that night, multiple discomforts, in armpits, forearms and torso prevented me from getting any sleep before 3.00am and, even then it only visited me in brief intermittent snatches.

By the time I freed myself from the duvet realm, on Friday morning, I was surprised to feel reasonably refreshed, all the better to face another day of minimal exertion. In the afternoon I managed a visit to Café Culture with my beloved; this neighbourhood café, a few minutes strolling time from home, has proved a real godsend.

On Saturday morning we were anticipating an early afternoon visit from six Southerners plus our eldest daughter Beth. I’ve got to admit that the prospect seemed quite daunting. For the past several years, I have had great difficulty coping with any kind of claustrophobic hospitality but, in the event I needn’t have worried. For some reason (unbeknown to yours truly) I was on quite scintillating form; by way of a bonus, it was also the first full-day that I’d survived, for some considerable time, without having to resort to painkillers*.

It was only this afternoon that I recognized the latter achievement, as I passed an afternoon in state of totally exhausting shatteredness; this extreme discomfort is a far from atypical reaction to any previous days socializing, regardless of that activities duration or intensity.

* a sign that the acupunctures benefits had well and truly kicked in?

normal service may be resumed ... tomorrow

On Monday afternoon I was really looking forward to a visit from Helen A, the physiotherapist, who over the past few years has helped me with both pain management and a modicum of re-energizing by the skilful manipulation of acupuncture needles. It had been a considerable time since her previous visit and, my body was screaming out for some kind of miraculous intervention but, my guts weren’t prepared to have any of it. No sooner had she positioned the first couple of needles than an unexpected (and unrelated) excruciating spasm of the colon necessitated a change of posture, and consequently the abandonment of the treatment.

I’m unfortunately all too familiar with colonic spasms, and quite regularly have to take an anti-spasmodic medication but, the intensity of pain on this occasion was of an altogether different order. My eyes began watering as I gasped for breath; it felt as if someone had got hold of the intestine and knotted it as tightly as possible whilst somehow managing to wield a cat o’ nine tails thus granting themselves added sadistic satisfaction.

Suddenly, the tears came flooding out as I apologized for being such a wimp; as the evening progressed the abdominal disturbances began to settle down as the pains in the upper limbs started to demand my attention. Come bed-time, discomfort in both upper and lower limbs ensured that several sleepless hours would ensue.

The good news is that I’ve had a much more settled day today and, the physio will be calling later tomorrow afternoon to administer the healing needles.

Cussing and Tears

For someone who needs / requires a minimum sleep & bed rest of at least twelve hours per night, things take a quite dramatic turn when medications fail to support the necessary restfulness. Last night / this morning proved a cussingly tearful case in point; the cussing, tossing, turning and stamping during the night, the tears on late emergence into the daylight hours.

Having taken an overdue shower, mid-evening, I seriously anticipated a good night’s sleep as I mounted the stairs en route to beddy byes. A quick brush of the teeth, followed by a casting off of the dressing gown, and I was ready to snuggle down with my beloved. No matter how tired I felt, golden slumbers had little or no intention of passing my way.

Crushingly searing pains in the left arm, coupled with muscle spasms in the lower limbs, conspired against the best laid plans. It wasn’t long before the lightweight pyjama jacket, which began to feel unduly constrictive, had to be cast off and, I then tried to apply the wrist splint, which has on many occasions seemed to alleviate the intense discomfort in the upper limb. Arms stretched downwards, both under and over the duvet, then stretched behind my back followed by stretching them above my head; none of this solves the extreme discomfort. Next I try lying on my left side, lying on the right side, lying on my front with arms crossed under my pillow but none of this helps. The discomfort screamingly intensifies.

 Having taken amitriptyline during the evening, I now reluctantly resort to 2x50mg tramadol but, even these seem to have little effect. Eventually, sometime after 3.00am, some snatches of sleep; vividly Technicolor naturalistic dreams haunt me back to wakefulness. A time of hopeful waiting follows, hopeful that I may soon revisit the land of nod; I drift back into slumber and a different dream.

When I eventually feel more awake, and find sufficient stamina to remove myself from the duvet lair donning daytime clothing, I’m suddenly overwhelmed by tears of intense frustration. Suddenly, I can’t help feeling that this health-imposed lifestyle is letting life pass me by. It’s only very rarely that I can venture beyond the neighbourhood high street, even that becoming an effort at times, that even the pleasure I derive from the home garden and aquarium begins to wane. I certainly couldn’t manage without the loving tenderness, care and caresses, of ma belle Helen but, at the same time, I feel utterly guilty and upset by the stress I must be causing her.

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This post also appears on 'Mal's Murmurings' as "a self-pitying yelp of frustration"

Whither Labour or Wither Labour

What is Labour's position on "free schools" or, where does it differ from the coalition on anything?

As a Labour Party member I find myself somewhat concerned by (Shadow Secretary of State for Education) Stephen Twigg's  apparent support for free schools. Has the party policy officially changed since Andy Burnham declared them to be a reckless gamble?

I rejoined the Labour Party when I thought the Blairite days were over but now, with a new leader (who I voted for) condemning justifiable plans to take industrial action by Trade Unionists, many of whom voluntarily contribute to support Labour as part of their union fees, an increased number of Blairites in the Shadow Cabinet, and now this move to supporting free schools I'm wondering which party I'm in!

I am also concerned at the way the party leadership tends to support the Tory / Blairite attack on benefit claimants as scroungers. When I succumbed to Myalgic Encephalomyelitis in 2003 it was incredible the hurdles I was made to jump through in order to claim any benefit at all, the medicals process causing a relapse in my condition and hence, the effort was far too great to consider applying for DLA which my therapist at the Chronic Fatigue Unit insisted I should be entitled to. My entitlement to the State Pension when I turned 65 came as a great relief but. I suppose the official line is that pensioners are scroungers too.

The party has certainly moved a long way from that which I faithfully served throughout the 60's and 70's. Sorry for the rant from what started out as a simple desire to know just where the party stands in relation to "free schools" but, instead, I found myself wondering why I should continue to support it. I, for one, care more about the downtrodden poor, especially those on low pay and/or benefits, than an ill-defined squeezed middle, which obviously doesn't include public sector workers who are scorned for wanting to take protest action against cuts, changes to pensions etc.

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a new poem - or lines towards such - can be found on Mal's Factory - Poetry & Prose Poems

tasting the air - thwarting the robber barons

For once, I’m thankful for the thieving profiteering utility companies. Being reluctant to put on the fire, hence supporting their practice of extortion, I discover that it’s a more pleasantly comfortable temperature outside and, a walk in the rain (hand in hand with my beloved) provides me with a little long overdue exercise. For the past few days sundry ailments, of both very and less familiar varieties, had prevented me from

tackling little more than a walk up to the garden pond to feed the fish.

Its strange how often dull damp days have the effect of making the houses interior feel extra cold; it feels so much warmer once outside, embracing the elements, on such days as this.

The preceding lines were written yesterday, before I ran out of the necessary stamina / powers of concentration to proceed further. Today, once again, it began to feel almost intolerably cold sat in the house but, having donned an appropriate lightweight waterproof to wander up the garden and feed the fish, the external temperature proved sufficiently comfortable for me to enjoy a garden snapshot session.

Prior to this little venture into the great outdoors, I’d been feeling totally ill at ease inside my own skin; the pain emanating from armpits, upper arm, elbows, wrists and, spasmodically, the rib-cage served to sustain a nagging sense of nausea. For an hour or so it seemed impossible to find a position / posture that would permit me to either listen to the radio or read a few pages of a book without, most disconcertingly, hurting! So, once again, my reluctance to further support the robber barons, encouraged me to take to the open air, as an exercise in distraction from the prevailing dis-ease.