Waiting...

Hi,
Sorry to have been away a while, I'm trying to get this knee pain sorted! I ended up going back to the doctor and sitting sobbing in his office, and he was very kind and gave me some different drugs. They don't stop the pain but they do dull it for a couple of hours now and again.

I think they need to research the effect of using a stick on the language centres of the brain! I have begun to use archaic language (such as 'joshing' instead of 'teasing') in what I can only assume is some Neuro-linguistic response to using walking aids!

However - the silver lining is immense. The pain can be almost unbearable BUT! - the sense of achievment when I manage to clean the bath, or have a shower! I've always been one for stopping and smelling the roses - now I can almost watch them unfold as I hobble past!

Soon I shall be having Physio and crutches and then a scan, and then, I imagine, surgery.

So I'll be back here soon with more news!

New Glasses

I got my new glasses yesterday - they're quite different from my others. After about 20 years of sticking to little gold frames, I've gone for a larger frame in fine purple metal. They look very nice. And nobody has noticed them, which I always take as a sign that they are very 'me', so that's good.

Today I was looking at jobs, and noticed an advert for 'an Impatient, Elderly Occupational Therapist'. Of course the word was actually INpatient. I like glasses with a sense of humour. My sister and I regard these mis-sightings as part of the silver lining of getting older.

I'm still struggling with pasting anything onto here, which is frustrating cos I have loads of poems ready to go! I'll keep trying. I must have missed some button somewhere.

I'm back to the doctor's this afternoon - he's going to refer me on to a specialist I think, which will be good as my knee is very painful. I should also get my blood test results, which I am hoping won't show that I have Rheumatoid Arthritis but - if I do, I can be treated. I've dreamt about it several times, which is rare for me - my dreams are usually fantastic, narrative epics in full technicolour, rather than obvious references to real life. Perhaps once I know one way or the other, it'll stop. (In my dreams I always have RA, so we'll see how accurate they are, or whether they are playing to fears).

There's a lot to be said for being slowed down. It's painful to walk, but I make sure I concentrate on what I can see as I go, rather than the pain and the speed. You notice much more -particularly other people with limps, who have emerged from all sides, reminding me of how the world seems to be poplulated entirely by pregnant women when you're pregnant yourself.

My little town is a haven for the crippled - I've noticed since I moved here that the pavements are swarming with mobility scooters (rendering pedestrians less mobile, but we all co-exist quite happily). So I feel quite at home as I hobble over the cobbles.

Meanwhile, I'm spending time reading up on the Law of Attraction. In my Christian days I would immediately have dismissed it as a load of materialistic bunkum (but then there were Christian movements such as 'Name it and Claim it!' which were just the same). However, I think the Law is what you make it. It is possible to interpret it as the Way to get Wealthy but I think if you are a little more discerning, there is some excellent, helpful stuff in there about pursuing one's own spiritual path.

I've also read Jekyll and Hyde, as part of some research for a class homework on Horror. It's a very interesting read, and although I found the style a little elderly at first, once I'd got into it I was more than ready for the excellent last chapter, in which Jekyll discusses the struggle within him. Having only seen bits of films, I had always assumed that Jekyll was Good - but the whole point (it seems to me) is that Jekyll remains human - ie a mix of good and bad - and THAT is what allows Hyde to conquer, because the evil in Jekyll identifies with Hyde and therefore makes him stronger - he draws from both sides of the personality whereas Jekyll's goodness is ever-diminishing. It's a powerful comment on all the bad habits we allow to grow, I think.

Where'd the month go?!

That's a reference to the wonderful Michael McIntyre, whose show I saw the other week. He did a whole set about how people can never believe it's October. ("It was just AUGUST! What happened to SEPTEMBER?!")

But it's true. I've let the time fly past this month with hardly a blog, because so much has happened that I've hardly drawn breath.

My daughter had a (thankfully very minor) accident in her car, I performed in the town Arts Festival, was busy at work...

WAS busy at work.

The Leg - more precisely, the Knee - had other ideas. It feels as though a rat with very blunt teeth is slowly gnawing through the bone. I've had a blood test for Rheumatoid Arthritis. I'm hoping it's not that, though I have been ignoring some mild symptoms for the last few years.

I've now had four weeks off work with another sick-note until November 9th. The pain, I explained to the doctor, was about an 18 on a scale of 1 - 10. (And this from a woman who had both her babies without any painkillers at all).

I'm hobbling round like a good'un, and am considering writing to ask if I could be the New Face of Stannah Stairlifts.

The doctor isn't quite sure what's wrong, but I'm beginning to accumulate fluid on the knee and the pain isn't easing at all, quite the reverse. He muttered something about sending me to Someone Who can Do Something.

SO - my challenge in all this is to see how it fits into my wonderful 50th year...

Not difficult, actually, given that life is never predictable and it's perfectly okay in my book to include some hard times in a wonderful year. So what if I LOOK 85 as I limp through the supermarket? I'm still alive and happy to be so!

I've had time to type up most of my poetry, which will make it easier to send to people and put online. I'm thinking about the future, and taking time to read. I'm making the most of this opportunity to rest and just Be. I can't do any housework which involves crouching or bending, as I can't guarantee being able to get back up (my daughter had to help me last time, and I was crying with pain before I managed to stand back up!)

But - there's always the memories of Michael McIntyre to see me through!
So - I'll just see what happens. It's different, that's for sure.

For the little girl in Costa Coffee this afternoon...

I wrote this poem this afternoon in a coffee shop, watching the most beautiful little girl - she looked as though she'd been polished with Baby Brite! I hope you like it.


She sits in a high chair,
Fist holding tightly
The crumbs from the biscuit
Her daddy just gave her.
A CRASH in the corner,
Now everyone’s looking;
A flustered young waiter
Picks glass off the floor.

She gazes a moment,
Then back to her biscuit –
Pays no attention,
Gets on with her task.
She’s only ten months, yet
Has learnt very early
To mind her own business
And do as she’s asked.

But now she is glancing
Across to the kitchen
Her eyebrows are question marks,
Mouth a wide ‘O’.
The grown-ups are chatting,
The noise is forgotten
Except by the baby,
Who’s wanting to know
“What was it? Who did it?
And why did it happen? And
What made the noises? And
How does glass break?”

She catches my eye, and
A look of intelligence
Flashes between us –
And that’s all it takes.

A brief recognition
Of something in common;
I smile, and she grins
As she chews on a spoon
My heart melts, and I whisper,
“Enjoy it, dear baby!
It goes oh, so quickly!
Have fun with your life,
You’ll be all grown-up soon!”

Then I feel someone looking,
Glance over my shoulder
And see an old woman
With snowy white hair.
She nods, and her eyes
Send me the same message,
“Enjoy being young! Have some fun if you dare!”

She’s smiling and beautiful,
Calm and serene, with
Long years of happiness
Etched on her face.
I look, and am heartened,
And know beyond doubt
That the key to growing old
Is to do it with grace.

Never stop questioning,
Let curiosity
Keep you alive and
Thirsting for more.
And don’t let regrets
Quench your pride in maturing –
Welcome each day
As it knocks on the door.

Live like a baby,
With hope and abandon,
Use all your energy
Learning to play.
Don’t use half-measures,
Cram buckets of laughter
As many as possible
Into each day.

Fashionable illnesses...

I have a very sore leg at the moment... I wrenched it and I felt the injury happen, and thankfully the leg didn't fall off or anything - so I assume (and so did the doctor) that it will respond to a bit of R&R.

A friend eagerly told me it might be Fibromyalgia. She's had it for a few years now, and I have to say, it seems very fashionable these days. This friend said to me last year: "I like being ill! It means I don't have to go to work and I can do what I like!" She appears to have the energy for the things she enjoys, but is more or less retired on grounds of ill-health.

It seems a high price to pay, regarding yourself as an invalid in order to get permission to do what you want in life. I have every - every! - sympathy with dreaming of a life of doing what you want, but... it doesn't seem to be how it works, not when you're single anyway! I think the whole of society is in an Emperor's New Clothes phase, where everyone KNOWS that work has become too stressful for most people, but nobody wants to be the first to admit to it (it would, after all, bring society to a grinding halt if we actually put our physical and emotional - not to mention spiritual - wellbeing before Money). So we have all these illnesses now... all real, but all very much connected to our mental state.

Six years ago, when I was off work for five months following some rather nasty bullying, I remember realising my body was playing tricks and I gave it a stern talking-to. It was incredibly tempting to be signed off for another few months but I realised if I went that way I was choosing illness over coping... I don't blame those who do, mind, but I do think we ought to acknowledge the enormous stresses people are under.

I was so exhausted that I actually fell asleep whilst crawling along in the supermarket pushing a trolley. I was so damaged by the bullying that I had panic attacks when I was contemplating going back to work.

And yet I'm fine now. I certainly entertain regular fantasies about running that bookshop/cafe by the seaside, as do most of the women I know. But I also realise that for society to run at all (and I don't think it's doing that well tbh) we do need to step up to the mark and do our bit. If we can. Some people are simply too burnt-out to continue, which I think is a perfectly rational response to being under too much stress - but it's not really possible to say "Stop the world for a bit" unless we have illness on our side. I'm convinced that this is what is happening to a lot of people; they are unable to frame the words, "I'm not coping." They can't give themselves permission to feel too stressed to carry on, so - they become ill. (Those illnesses are real. I just think they probably won't respond to medication unless it's accompanied by a change in lifestyle and perhaps some talking therapy or the listening ears of good friends).

True, I'd secretly rather be doing some other bit rather than the one I'm doing right now, but I'm not neglecting my spiritual side, I don't really buy too much into Materialism and I think I have a reasonably healthy attitude.

But what about all these people who daren't admit even to themselves that their job and their aspirations are at odds with their wellbeing?

Wouldn't it be great if there was a little less talk about sex and we removed the taboo around discussing true Happiness (ie learning to take care of our emotional and spiritual needs rather than pretending that getting pissed will sort it all out) instead?

Random thoughts...

Is an affair that's going so well you feel as though you're dancing on air, an Elationship?

How near did the Antiques show 'Going for a Song' come to being called 'Going for a Snog'? And what would it have been about?

Why has it taken me so long to realise that 'cassock' is an anagram of 'ass cock'?

Why am I rambling on here when I need a good night's sleep? ;)

Night, all! I notice the Madeleine link has gone, that didn't take long!

A quick brush with old age...

A few times in my life, I've had illnesses which gave me a glimpse into old age. When I had a middle ear problem many years ago, I wasn't able to walk alone, and needed a friendly arm to help me stand up straight and walk, not stagger, across a room. When I had a near-miss with ME, I held onto the trolley for dear life as I went round the supermarket, on one occasion falling asleep in an aisle...

And this last couple or weeks have given me a taste of those who struggle daily with arthritis. Shortly after I arrived home from Italy, my fingers - all of them - hurt so much that I could hardly write, let alone open bottles and turn taps. I wondered if it was RSI (not a good thing for an aspiring writer) and faced the thought of not being able to drive if it continued. Then my knees began to protest every time I asked them to carry me anywhere. I realised that it coincided with returning to work, and had a stern word with my body, assuring it that I would be in work with or without its cooperation.

And as suddenly as it started, it all vanished. My hands were fine, my knees seemed okay - until my left leg felt as though it had been stabbed. I rested it, put ice packs on it, and necked Ibuprofen. It improved. And then I tripped on a wire and wrenched my knee.

Reader, I expected to look down and see that my leg had come off.

It hadn't. And again it began to improve with a lot of care and none of my three-times-a-week visits to the gym.

Until last night I woke at 4, in pain. And remained in pain until it was time to get up for work. I drove to the doctor's and, bless him, he saw me immediately and has diagnosed an allergic reaction to mosquito bites, resulting in arthroscopic inflammation.

It will pass. Thank goodness. It may be a sign from the Universe that the Villa in Italy idea ought to be shelved, which is no great heartbreak.

It made me think. I had briefly begun to accept that such pain might be a part of ageing, that however much I embrace the thought of Fiftiness, my body will irrevocably complain at times.

And I'm pleased to say, it didn't dampen my enthusiasm for the next decade. Pain can be borne. All sorts of things can be assimilated into our lives and even perhaps learnt from. I've lived with emotional pain for years on end at various times. I have tinnitus, but forget about it so completely that I'm not sure I've ever bothered mentioning it to the doctor.

We can bear all sorts of things in life, if we choose to. That's not to say that we always accept difficult new things straight away, nor indeed that we ought to do so. It's important to acknowledge pain/sorrow/fear/sadness/grief etc, because (in my opinion) this diminishes their power over us.

It may be that one day I shall have to learn to live with pain. Well, what if that's the case? Many have done it before me. I am no more or less courageous than anybody else.

Meanwhile, I'm thankful that my brush with arthritis appears to be almost over. I have renewed sympathy for those who struggle with it daily. And a new perspective on what the future might - might - hold.

All the more reason to relish the present!