Tuesday 31 July 2012

Anxiety all round

I have to admit to being anxious. I'm hoping things will ease soon.

My first cause of anxiety is the hospital trip tomorrow. I'm relieved to say there's been no more spot bleeding. I'm telling myself all will be well. It won't be cancer. It was just one of those temporary aberrations that happen. But, for all that, I can't help being aware of a sense in the pit of my stomach that all is not well. Hopefully all will be clearer after yesterday, or soon afterwards.

More worrying is that the level of abdominal pains I've been getting during the night have got worse, more frequent. They're even hitting during the day. The new medication I was given last time I saw the doctor made the situation worse rather than better. I've stopped taking them & gone back to what I was on until I see him again. I think I'm almost more anxious this will be the more serious medical problem. I've not had the results of the blood samples taken a few weeks ago. Some of the tests were supposed to take at least 3 weeks to come back. I'm due back at the surgery next week. One thing is certain. This is not a temporary aberration about to disappear of its own accord.

On top of that I'm anxious about my benefit form. Last night we watched two programmes on the television, one on BBC2, one on Channel 4. Both came to the same conclusion. For all the good intentions of the new benefit, a lot of people seem to be being told they are fit to work when they are manifestly not. The consequences have been dire, even fatal in some cases. They seem to be taking the stance that if you can use so much as one finger to press a button, you are fit to work. No account seems to be taken of pain, fatigue or ability to cope with pressure. Being disabled is a full time job, a very tiring and painful one at that, for many people. I came away with the distinct impression that any medical professional who works for ATOS, the agency that makes the assessments, can have no integrity. We are telling ourselves that if necessary, if the Fox claims the Carers' Allowance, as he is entitled to regardless of the decision on this benefit claim, we should be able to keep going until he reaches 65 and his state old age pension. We may have to cut down on some things, but we have got enough capital behind us to just about cope. We're really hoping the disability organisation that's coming on Thursday can get the form filled in in such a way that my claim goes through first time. The idea of going through the appeal process is appalling.

As a minor irritant, one of the birds in our garden has discovered a new trick. You may remember the other Saturday our fire alarm had to replaced as it was beeping every 30 seconds night & day. Clearly this bird was enchanted by the sound. Now each time I venture out of the back door I get greeted by the sound of beeping. He's learnt how to mimic it perfectly. I just hope he bores of it soon. Or the girlfriend/wife lets him know it's time to change his songbook.

Friday 27 July 2012

Relief all round

The source of today's disbelief is the sight of clear bright blue skies. That hasn't happened for a long while. I suspect it won't last the whole morning, let alone day.

The Fox got to the GP yesterday. It turns out that the problem isn't arthritis. I can't remember the title - someone's contraction. Anyhow the important thing is that, although it will probably deteriorate, it will be very slowly. He may even be dead before it gets to the stage that it's such a nuisance that something needs to be done - just as well as the treatment doesn't sound very hopeful, and may well end up with things getting worse rather than better. It is also likely to occur in his other hand, which the Fox suspects is already happening. 

Meanwhile I've got around to phoning a local welfare rights organisation for help with my benefits form. The rate we're getting around to doing it it won't be complete in time. We're not even confident we're answering it right. We're both finding the whole business so depressing we're beginning to wonder whether it's worth the hassle. The sheer relief when someone agreed to come on Thursday to sort it out was immense. He's leaving it now until Thursday as I should know the results of my Wednesday hospital trip, the results of which may have some bearing on what we put down.

In all honesty I think we are both feeling so mithered by our various health problems at the moment that the form was just one thing too much. Now we can relax in the knowledge we're in the hands of the professionals. If we can clarify our thoughts so much the better, but it shouldn't be essential any longer, thank goodness. 


Wednesday 25 July 2012

Can't believe it

The visit to the surgery went as expected. By the time I'd been dinspected examined & my family history of cancer duly noted, the doctor concluded it was the hospital for me, to the Breast Unit. I should hear within a week to ten days. If not, get back & he would chase it up.

We went along to the Pub for a quick drink - it's amazing how drying hospital & surgery waiting rooms can be. We had a pleasant chat with Dick Gobble, still trying to adjust to the problem of catering just for one. He's still finding he ends up throwing out so much food, but on the other hand he wants variety. He's working on the theory he can make a casserole in larger portions & then freeze want he doesn't want immediately in various parcels. Nonetheless he's still sorely missing his wife who died earlier in the year. 

We progressed to Morrisons & the big shop. Life must go on.

I was just out at the freezer putting our purchases away when the phone goes. It's the hospital. They've given me an appointment for next Wednesday. I couldn't believe it. I know I was hoping it wouldn't be too long but to hear the same day, with an appointment within a fortnight takes some beating. They've even managed to organise the appointment on the same morning that we were going into the hospital for an appointment for the Fox regarding his hearing problems. Very convenient.

It will be a case of into the Breast Unit with me. If I'm not clear by the time of the Fox's appointment he just has to cross the road to Audiology. If I'm done quick, we'll pop across the road to the WRVS cafe for a bit of refreshment before Audiology - they're both in the same building.

All this additional stress is having adverse effects on both of us. My stomach & knee pains are growing. The Fox is having greater problems dragging around his dead log of a leg, the remnant of his stroke. The stress is also part of the reason for his silence on his blog, though I see he was inspired to write a little last night. We're just hoping all the anxiety is for nothing and we can relax a bit once more. 

But first the Fox is off to the surgery with his hand tomorrow. And there's still this benefit form to complete. There may only be 20 pages to it but it's taking forever to do, not helped by a changing medical scene at the moment. Whatever else can be said, I think it's safe to conclude my medical condition at the moment is not stable.

Tuesday 24 July 2012

Still more problems

I can't help wondering whether phoning NHS Direct was a good idea. If I hadn't, I would undoubtedly have phoned the surgery when it opened and insisted upon seeing some doctor that day. Instead, I've spent a weekend worrying, especially when a few more drops of blood appeared on Saturday. I'm glad to say nothing further has appeared. I'm also relieved to think I'm seeing a doctor this afternoon. I suspect, though, it will simply be a case of being referred to the hospital for a further mammogram. We'll see. At least the cogs will have been set in motion.

Meanwhile, on Saturday, we ended up having a shiny red fire engine turn up at our house. No, I hadn't set the house on fire. During the night, our fire alarm had started beeping every 30 seconds. By the morning it was driving me round the bend. Since the fire brigade installed the fire alarm, I thought I should ring them to find out what had gone amiss. The battery was running out. They agreed to come that afternoon to replace the alarm as the battery couldn't just be changed. Once more we were told how best to avoid starting a fire, how best to behave if one did start etc. We were also given a couple of bottles containing forms to be filled in with our medical information which is to be kept in the fridge door. In theory, if the place is on fire, they will see the sticker we've had to put on the front door & then retrieve this container to facilitate our emergency treatment. We decided to put both forms in the one container. There's enough rubbish cluttering up the fridge without two such containers. Once more we are relatively safe.

Later this week the Fox is off to see our regular GP. He's having trouble with his hands. We suspect it's the onset of arthritis and nothing much can be done. We'll see.

If it's not one thing it's another at the moment. Meanwhile I plod on with my benefit form. As if I could cope with work as well!

Friday 20 July 2012

Yet more

I'm distinctly jittery today. I don't appreciate shocks when I first get up.

Even before I'd had a wash I was on the phone. To NHS Direct.

What prompted this action? A couple of days ago, when I got ready for bed, I noticed a drop of dried blood on my nightdress. I couldn't see any obvious scratches. I just put it down to one of those oddities that happen for no apparent cause. 

This morning I got up. The first thing I noticed was, not one, but half a dozen spots of dried blood on my nightdress. A quick inspection underneath revealed a soft scab on the nipple of one of my breasts, as though I was exuding milk for a baby, only I was exuding blood. This I found worrying. I noticed later, when I put on my bra, there was a little spot of dried blood in there too. Not vast quantities, just spots as I say.

So, before all else, I thought I ought to find out whether it is a matter of concern or not, whether I should make an urgent trip to the surgery. Bleeding like this isn't normal for me.

NHS Direct was very good. They asked various questions. At the end of the day they concluded it didn't sound very serious. However, they thought it would be wise for me to go to see a GP soon, not necessarily today but within a week. NHS Direct also said if I was to start bleeding more heavily, not to hesitate to see a GP immediately.

Needless to say, my next job was to get through to the surgery. I've now got an appointment for next Tuesday. It's not with my regular GP but it is the first available non-emergency appointment. I don't want to worry any longer than I have to.

I'm now wondering if this is going to be yet another medical problem to put on my benefit form. As if I didn't have enough. I've already listed 13! Let's hope it's nothing serious and will disappear as magically as it appeared.

Thursday 19 July 2012

Change

I'm once more hoping to get back to the form. I've only a few questions left to go. I'm on to a question about my ability to cope with change. They don't seem to allow a space to write about my inability to cope with lack of change. I accept a certain amount of routine is inevitable, even desirable. However, I confess I get the screaming abdabs when I realise I'm expected to do the same thing the same day, or even worse at the same time of the same day of the week. The very thing that seems to bring comfort & reassurance to some of our friends with mental illness problems is a cause of stress & anxiety for me. Oh dear. I'll get it in somehow.


Once the first draft is complete the Fox will look over it. He'll make sure I'm clear, that I haven't omitted things I should have said.  At the library we got a phone number to try to get someone to help with the form, but first we feel we need to have clarified our thoughts about what exactly my problems are these days.


Meanwhile the sun is trying to get through. Our new next door neighbour has had cause to discover one of the deficiencies of his new property. The previous owner was not a gardener, nor was he a car owner. This being so he covered the soil of the front garden with membrane and then added tons of gravel. When our new neighbours arrived, as there is no off road parking, he decided to use the gravel area as a parking area. With all the rain we've had this summer, the car has been slowly sinking. It got to the stage where the front of the car sunk so much into the  where the flower bed had been that the front was catching on the concrete of the path beyond. He's now having it all concreted over. It looks as though the job will be completed today. He will be relieved.

Tuesday 17 July 2012

Onwards

The central heating boiler has been serviced. He finally arrived yesterday morning. At least that's done - one less thing to wait around for. The garden seems full of birds today. This morning no less than 4 magpies have been attracted by the fat that we cut off our pork steaks last night. The lawn is being scoured by wood pigeons, collared doves & blackbirds. For dinner tonight I'm intending to pick some sugar snap peas/garden peas grown by the Fox - our first real picking of the season.

Meanwhile my mind must once more turns to my benefit form. This will be my third session on it. 

While I try to do a preliminary draft of the answers, the Fox is trying to read up on the form & the hurdles in it. What he has read so far does not fill us with optimism. We're hoping to go along to the library later today when one of the local charities should be attending & be able to give us some advice on filling in the form.

Please understand, it is not that I want to cheat the system. I wouldn't even be applying if I genuinely thought I could  work. 

My life these days goes along slowly. Providing I continue on that level I seem to be able to achieve a fair amount, to keep going, to keep the level of pain & fatigue at a tolerable level. This, though, is nowhere near the level of activity that a healthy non-disabled person would do or would be expected to do. The demands of a job & the stress that would involve would be more than I could cope with these days. Equally I think any employer would have to be mad to take me on when I suspect - no, know - I could not keep up the pace for any length of time & would end up taking a lot of time off sick.

To be honest, I wish the support which the government is now offering had been available when I first became disabled 20 odd years ago. Then I think I could have appreciated the re-training & support being offered. I could possibly have stayed in work a lot longer than I did. I did go to see the Disablement Advisory Officer at the time. However, even to be assessed I would have had to go to Penrith for a few consecutive days and that would have been too much for me. I was therefore advised to abandon the idea.

Now, my medical condition has deteriorated. I have many more medical problems. and I'm just not fit to work at any sort of work on a regular basis. Just attending a meeting of a couple of hours length is enough to cause me to grab for the painkillers & exhaust me for weeks afterwards.

The whole business is getting me down. My only consolation is that I should at least get the further year of Employment & Support Allowance as even they cannot suggest I would not need support in order to work. I would need re-training if only to update long unused skills. By that time it would not be long before the Fox would be 65 & be entitled to claim his state pension. We probably have sufficient savings behind us to cope with the intervening few months financially even without my benefits.

Meanwhile I press on with the forms & realise in the 3 years since I last filled in my Incapacity Benefit form, my medical condition has worsened & I am able to do so much less. If that isn't enough to get me depressed I don't know what is. 

Saturday 14 July 2012

Memories

Arnside village dominated by Arnside Knott


Arnside Knott from the Kent estuary

The screes of Arnside Knott from the castle
Dick Gobble was in the Pub. He was telling us about his ramble around Arnside Knott, the hill behind the village of Arnside. Apparently when he first moved to this area - he's a Yorkshireman, born & bred - he'd been up the Knott. He'd found it uninspiring & resolved never to go again. Then, on Wednesday, his usual rambling friends invited him to come with them on the Knott. He decided to go along for the company, not expecting to be excited by the walk. Wednesday here was a fabulous day. Blue skies. He discovered the fabulous views over the Kent estuary to the Lakeland views.

The classic view from Arnside Knott to the railway viaduct across the Kent estuary to the Lakeland fells beyond

Fellow appreciators

Having lived in Arnside for over twenty years the Fox & I had fond memories of the Knott, a place we often went to walk. We remembered the fabulous views. We asked whether he'd also been over to the other side where on a good day you could see over Silverdale, down to Blackpool Tower & the Isle of Man. Dick was astounded.

The view south

 We also remembered the knotted larch. Legend has it, in Victorian days a couple of mischievous boys knotted two larch saplings together. They subsequently grew together as one tree. They did this twice. By the time we'd found them one tree had blown down. We wondered if the other still stood. Dick had no idea. 

The lone knotted larch

The knot in the larch



The Fox, too, recalled how fabulous the Knott could be under snow.

All these memories inspired this blog, & these pictures.

Friday 13 July 2012

Plastered

After our last few days of unexciting meals - some positively off-putting such as the fish & chips or the sole I mentioned in my last blog - we decided we'd have a few old favourites, something reassuring. We decided to opt for the tin of corned beef that lurked in the cupboard. We thought first we'd have some corned beef hamburgers & finish the tin off with a Hampton pie on the second day.

Needless to say one of the first things you have to do with a tin of anything is to open it. Corned beef tins have always been problematic with their keys near one end of the tin. I always found them preferable to those on sardine tins which I always got stuck half-way along, often discovering then I'd put the key on the wrong way in the first place. At least with a corned beef tin, or for that matter a ham tin, I never had that difficulty. The danger always lurked in not catching your fingers on the sharp edges of the tin. This tin, however, was a newer, more modern design - a ring pull.

I'm never that keen on ring pulls either. Usually I manage to pull the rings off before getting the lids off. Nonetheless I thought I'd best have a go. The ring came up. The lid remained firmly attached. I pulled longer. The ring began to tear off.  Eventually the lid started to move. I changed the position of my hand &, you've got it, I catch my hand, not on the lid put on the ring. Blood starts bursting out. I wash the cut quickly, dry it & press firmly on the cut, then rush, inasmuch as I can rush, to the plasters. I find an appropriately sized one. Then came the problem of getting the plaster out of its sheath with one finger pressing on the cut to staunch the flow of blood. I tore off the end. Would the plaster fall out? No, it resolutely stayed in. I try tearing the sheath somewhere else. Still no movement. I went & found some scissors. I more or less had to cut all round the plaster in order to get it out of the sheath. To do that I'd had to let go of the cut so I was starting to drip blood. I washed my finger again, dried it again, put on some antiseptic disinfectant cream since a food covered tin had  caused the cut & tackled the task of getting into the plaster itself. Eventually I managed & went back to complete the burgers. Thank goodness I didn't have to open another tin for today's Hampton pie - a potato topped pie, a bit like a cottage pie but with corned beef underneath the mash.

Why do they have to make getting into corned beef tins so dangerous? And why do they have to make it so difficult to get at a plaster when you are bleeding? There definitely seem to be some design faults here.

So yesterday I went to see the GP. He decided I should have some blood tests done. When I went to make the appointment, the receptionist told me the nurse had just had an appointment cancellation would I like to have it. Since the doctor had thought I needed the tests doing fairly promptly I jumped at the chance.

As the nurse goes to put a plaster on the spot where the blood was drawn she asks me if I'm okay with plasters. I couldn't help pointing out that the finger holding the cotton wool on the entry point to stop the bleeding had a plaster on so I must be okay. So now I'm going around with two plasters, though I think both could probably come off now.

My benefit form arrived on the day I fought the tin & lost. One of the questions is "Please tick the box if you can keep yourself safe when doing everyday tasks such as cooking". I can't see me ticking that box somehow much as I know the cut finger is not the result of my ill-health but rather of faulty tin design.

Tuesday 10 July 2012

Rough patch

It's been a rough few days.

It started on Saturday. As you know from my last blog, I was not looking forward to that afternoon. In the end I stayed at home. The weather looked changeable. In the end it did change, into a gloriously sunny day but by then I was stuck at home. The Fox got to Kendal. No problems with floods.. 

It was a very long afternoon. By the time he got back, I was aching badly. For all that I'd sat in my riser/recliner chair, it didn't alter the fact I had to get up a few extra times than I normally would. Also anxiety causes all my muscles to tense up increasing my physical pain in my knees. And I was tense. The Fox hadn't seemed at his best when he left home. I asked him to ring when he reached Kendal because he looked so under the weather when he left I questioned if he was even go to make it there safely. Fortunately he did. 

Mid-afternoon I gave my cousin Ann a ring to discover it sounds as though her cancer has maybe taken a turn for the worse. She's going to have another scan today. I hope it's nothing too dire. She also told me another cousin, Trudy,  who had a cataract removed earlier this year, is now having problems with bleeding in that eye & is having to have a lot of laser treatment. This news did nothing for my flagging morale.

As the afternoon went on, and on, I got increasingly bored, being confined to the one seat in the one room. To do more would have risked not being able to make it to the loo if needed. Thank goodness I at least had a good book to read. I've come to the conclusion I have to accept the fact that I am no longer fit to be left on my own for six hours. Anything more than four hours, I will be organising someone to come in, paying if necessary. I'm telling myself  it was a timely reminder of my difficulties in view of the benefit form which will probably arrive this week.

As for the Fox, he found himself in a room full of others. He discovered his new hearing aids exaggerated some sounds so he could hardly hear anything being said over the sound of the air-conditioning unit. It didn't help when he was also so worried about me rather than the purpose of the meeting.

On the way home he stopped to pick up some fish & chips. It was already 7pm & he realised if I didn't eat soon I would beyond food. The fish & chips proved a disaster, full of grease. Previously this has been one of the best of local chippies, but not this weekend.

After eating we sat on the settee in each others' arms. I was aware how fast the Fox's heart was racing. He, by this time, was feeling nauseous from the food, &, I suspect, the release of the tension he'd been building up all week. We soon abandoned the idea of watching anything. The Fox's eyes kept closing & I couldn't face sitting once more in that riser/recliner chair, no matter how comfortable a chair it is, or possibly having to make the effort to get into bed without assistance, a thing I can rarely manage these days at the best of times.

As the night went on we tossed & turned. The Fox got up a couple of times to go to the loo with his upset tum. Eventually he abandoned all effort of sleep & stayed up. I tried to sleep on. Suddenly at 4.30am the radio blared on. Somehow in trying to switch the radio on in the dark the Fox must have accidentally have switched on the radio alarm. Having been woken so rudely, I hastily switched off the radio to be almost deafened by the sound of gurgling coming from my stomach. That was the start of my frequent visits to the loo.

Sunday is usually chore day in our household. The Fox abandoned his chores in favour of watching the Men's Singles Final at Wimbledon. I changed the bed, sorted out the washing, did a cursory job of emptying out the airing cupboard. This activity necessity meant yet more painkillers. My chores, too, were abandoned. As rain stopped play at tennis we decided on an early dinner. Just as well really as by the time we'd eaten & I'd got changed I was hard pushed to keep my eyes open for our after meal cup of tea.I was in bed by 6pm not to re-emerge until 8.30am. I tossed & turned, sweltering under just a sheet, so uncomfortable I couldn't actually get off to sleep until in the end I took a sleeping pill along with some extra painkillers. I knew that today I would be starting taking the pills I take in the middle of the night so from then on sleeping pills would not be an option for another fortnight. And if I was to cope I needed to get some sleep now.

Yesterday's problems were of a different sort. Our stomachs had settled. Instead we ended up waiting for the man to come to service the central heating boiler. He would come between 8am & 6pm we had been told. He would ring first to give us a clearer idea of the time of his arrival. When there was still no sign of him by 4pm, I gave them a ring. They were ever so apologetic. The engineer must have got waylaid. He wouldn't be able to come that day. We'll have to come another day. Why, oh why, couldn't they have rung us to let us know instead of leaving us just waiting? We'd had to abandon our usual Monday Pub visit with PD because of this appointment. Let's home they do better next week when we have the next appointment.

Free at last we went down to our village pub, just the two of us. Getting out of the house did me good. I hadn't been out since Friday. We enjoyed our drink. As our stomachs had been so unsettled the last few days, & I wasn't quite sure when the workman would arrive, I hadn't prepared any food. We decided to go mad & treat ourselves by eating while we were there. The new landlord & his partner are enthusiastic about their new chef & we hadn't tried any of the food. We'd even been given a £5 voucher off the price of a meal. We both decided on the lemon sole with a lemon & prawn butter sauce. What a disappointment.! On the plate was maybe three small new potatoes, cut in half & sauteed, a little salad with a honey based dressing that clashed badly with the lemony butter sauce. The sole came whole, on the bone - if it had said that on the menu it would have deterred the Fox from ordering it. The fish was so small, there was hardly any flesh on it & what there was was tasteless. The sauce was little more than melted butter with a few cooked prawns warmed up in it with a lot of sharp lemon juice in it. A couple of very tough, overcooked king prawns adorned the fish. For the privilege of having this meal we were charged £11.95 each. We left in disgust, as hungry as we sat down. We couldn't face even looking at the dessert menu. We won't be eating there for a while. A snack maybe. Their jacket potatoes are good.

So home we came. Soon we decided to have a pizza from the freezer to fill the hole a bit. In the process I managed to lose part of a tooth. I'm relieved to say I haven't got toothache even though it feels as though the enamel on the inside of one tooth has fallen off. The large filling that was inside seems firmly stuck in. I rang the dentist this morning. He has no appointments until September. I pointed out I already had one in August, admittedly just for a check up. They're going to make that a little longer in case treatment is needed. Meanwhile, if it does start to get painful, I'm to ring up at 8.30am & they will squeeze me in as an emergency.

What more can go wrong? I suppose I should be grateful we've still not been flooded despite the frequent showers. This weekend has been surprisingly warm &sunny despite the forecasts. I've just been making an old favourite - a meatball curry  -  for dinner tonight. It should be soft enough to not cause further tooth problems. I can only hope it's time things picked up for us.

Saturday 7 July 2012

An anxious time

Once more we seem to be being lucky. Thursday night saw some horrific thunderstorms. The thunder rolled across the skies. Lightning flashed. PD said it looked as though the storm was centred more or less on top of us. Needless to say all this noise & sudden brilliant light was accompanied by a deluge of rain. Within minutes the street was a river. Our bog garden became a bog lake stretching across most of the patio area of the garden. But for all that, the water disappeared almost as quickly as it arrived & none strayed into our home, unlike some unfortunate people. My heart goes out to those people who had only just about cleared the last lot of flooding to be inundated once more. At least this time they did get a bit more warning, a chance to move some of their valuables upstairs out of harm's way.

Today the Fox is off to Kendal. He's thinking of avoiding the centre of town, partly because of the Saturday traffic & partly in case the Kent has once more flooded. It did last time, a couple of weeks ago. 

I was thinking of going with him & maybe have a look around the shops in the Mean Machine, my electric scooter, or go & see a friend who lives there. However, in view of the weather I suspect I will have a quiet day at home, just reading & puzzling, maybe watch a film on the TV or some of the tennis. The Fox is anxious how I will manage on my own for so long - he will be out for about 6 hours. He wanted me to organise someone to come & sit with me. If Angie, the care worker who usually comes & cleans for us, was working I would probably have done so, but she's away for the weekend. The idea of having a stranger coming in didn't appeal. I'm trying to reassure him if I use my electric riser/recliner chair so I can get up easily to go to the loo, keep a phone on me at all times in case I should fall & need to ring for help, I should be OK. I confess I'm beginning to feel a little anxious myself, not helped by the fact the Fox's anxiety seems to be resulting in increasing unresponsiveness in his left leg, which is still affected by his stroke of last year. I'm not going to even try preparing dinner as he won't be home until 7pm or thereabouts & I know by then I won't be up to even re-heating something pre-prepared. Tonight is going to be a takeaway day such as fish & chips, a delivery day, such as Indian or Chinese or a trip to our nearest eatery, probably our village pub, as soon as he gets back. All depends on what we feel like when the time comes. We're both are hoping he can get away quicker than he fears.

Thursday 5 July 2012

Not the only one

It seems I'm not the only one. 

We bumped into Mr P yesterday. His wife has ME. She's recently received her renewal forms for the changed sickness benefit. Mr P had spent over 3 hours yesterday filling it on her behalf. It seems this form is going to be every bit as bad as I fear it's going to be. 

The Fox has offered to fill it in for me, but ultimately I don't feel I can sign it unless I've at least read it - a hangover from my legal training. What is more, ultimately I am the one most intimately aware of my difficulties so I have to be the one who has to judge the accuracy of the details put down on the form. I am, though, grateful to think the Fox will help me with it.

Meanwhile I've finished my novel & we're off to the library later on. I wonder where the next book will take me.

Wednesday 4 July 2012

Real time

I'm steadily becoming aware that the best, the most real, time of the day is in the evening. That hour or so is what makes life worth living. It seems to last so much longer for its intensity. After dinner & I've got changed into my nightwear, assuming we're both feel up to it, we often switch off the television, put on some music, open a bottle of wine & chunter to one another.

I often wonder what we can find to chunter about after nearly 37 years of marriage, but we never seem to have difficulty. In a way I find this extraordinary, especially when we live such quiet lives. These days we don't go out to work to discover new stimuli. We spend most of our time together so how can there be much new to talk about, yet there always is. We rarely go out for much except shopping - not a particularly inspiring event, more of a chore than a source of conversation. Oh we do go to the Pub a couple of times a week but that is mainly centred on the crossword, another topic we're unlikely to talk about at home.

Yesterday's talk, to the background of hits from the '50s, was mainly about the value of education. I'm not talking about the formal variety at school or college. Rather how, no matter what your age, there is still more to learn, still more intellectual & spiritual growth to be made. 

I can see why we are graduates. We still have a thirst for new thoughts, an urge to look into things with enthusiasm even if the subject is just the birds in the garden. What surprises me more is how many people we know, many of them graduates like us, who have ceased to ask questions. A sort of metal wall has come down in their brains through which nothing new can penetrate. That's not to say they're fools. They just seem to have stopped growing.

We talk on. We discussed the value of doubt. It makes you stronger, not weaker. It drives you on to find out more, & knowledge always puts you in a stronger position.

All this is the positive of yesterday. The negative is that I had a phone call from Jobcentre Plus to advise me my benefit forms should be with me within the fortnight. I dread them. I couldn't help noticing that even in responding to her questions my voice had gone flat. Anxiety was striking. I was getting uptight. I'm telling myself all will go well. They will accept my inability to work just on the basis of the form, without me having to undergo yet another medical. Unfortunately I can't quite believe that. We'll soon find out.

Tuesday 3 July 2012

A better world

I'm currently reading "The Help" by Kathryn Stockett. I'm enjoying it enormously. It keeps setting me thinking, & remembering life in the 1960s.

The novel is set in 1960s' Mississippi, in the years of increasing unrest between the blacks & whites of that part of the United states, the time of the emerging civil rights movement. 

I've never understood  discrimination. I can't understand how one person, or section of society, can feel they have the right to be superior to another. I can see society divides itself into all sorts of categories based on all sorts of criteria - colour, nationality, class, religion, disability, education, wealth, to name but a few - but none of these criteria get away from the fact that we are all people. Within any classification there is going to be a similar proportion of good & bad, of compatible and not so.

I can understand people being nervous, fearful, of the unknown, but then surely the reaction should be to learn more about the other people, not to denigrate them. 

I will admit I once sat eating some lunch in a park near Manchester University on the outskirts of Moss Side, a notoriously dangerous black part of town, when schools broke for lunch & the park was flooded with children, all black. I did feel threatened, especially when I was taunted for my white skin. There was a sense of being overwhelmed by them in a way I don't think would have struck me if,  for example, I was visiting black Africa where I would expect to be one of the few white people there. But it doesn't alter the fact I did not feel this was the basis for hatred, rather for a need to come to some sort of understanding of one another.
 
How white people in the south of the USA could be brought up by black maids, then somehow turn round & treat them like dirt is beyond me. (The same incidentally could be said about South Africa. It's just this novel is set in America so that's where my mind is at the moment.) Equally, during the war, how black people were considered good enough to fight & die for their country, the United States, & yet not good enough to mix socially, is incomprehensible to me.


On Sunday, on BBC Radio 4, I listened to the 15 minute programme "Witness". In this programme one of the participants told the tale of the protest of four black students in Greensboro North Carolina. They sat at the lunch counter in the Woolworth's store, an all white area, asking to be served. They waited all day, & for several more days.  It was done peacefully. One of the most moving things said was when he commented that as they sat there, he was aware of an elderly white woman at the other end of the counter, looking at them strangely. He feared the worse. When she came over he expected abuse of some sort. Instead she said well done, how much she admired them for their action & she just wished something like this had been done years ago. He never forgot her. It taught him the lesson that he was as prejudiced as he'd assumed she was, & not to just to go by appearances. Since then he has always assumed people were human beings with all the same complexities that implies regardless of their superficial differences of colour, nationality, class etc. I'd been reading about this incident just the day before so it rung all the more redolently in my ear.


It's a pity mankind can not rejoice in all our variations, instead of finding causes for discrimination & prejudice. If we could maybe the world would be a better place.