Post 39: Convalescing.
Losing last night’s sleep wasn’t the horror it could have been.
Although today will obviously be very short—due especially to waking up to a small but perfectly formed porridge brought to me around mid-afternoon—that’s what’s needed: a bit of rest. And what’s most important? Listen to your body.
Friends and family are doing weekend things, and the world continues to turn. There seemsto be plenty going on, judging from the few social media reports I’ve seen already.
Sometimes you can forget that the world exists when you’re in a hospital bed waiting for advice and help, especially in the wee small hours of the morning (Old Blue Eyes aka Frank Sinatra, 1959).
Upon waking up, there’s a WhatsApp text from my daughter-in-law’s very inquiring mind:
“No blog today? x”
In answer to that question, I’d first like to extol the virtues of writing a blog. I suppose a journal or diary is very much the same, in that while you have—or give yourself—a moment to pause life, you can fill it with your thoughts, worries, and expectations.
Maybe it’s just for you, and no one else will ever see it, or maybe it’s made public for all to read. Either way, it allows you to empty your mind and concentrate on yourself—and others—from a slightly offset perspective.
This in turn gives you the courage to be honest and brave, even when you’re hiding and afraid.
So back to the question: yes, I had a blog ready, but not yet posted.
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With the posting completed, I felt glad that my news of last night’s A&E investigation was happily out of my hands and the story told. It’s a relief to me—and possibly to My Darling—as explaining it individually to caring callers would be tiresome, and we’re both already tired enough.
We can easily get the word out in bulk, and importantly, everyone getting the same story.
As for the hours that unfolded last night, to me it seemed to go very quickly while I had my blog to write.
It’s funny how something that was a pet hate at school turns out to be my saviour.
The big school subject of English was frightening to me and a big turn-off.
I don’t remember sitting near a window, but if I did, I’d be looking through it the whole period.
I say period because it wasn’t a lesson for me—more a punishment for being alive.
The class, as I remember, wasn’t especially full of dunces like me. Some pupils not only read the homework chapter, but continued enjoying a few more chapters—for fun?!
I couldn’t ever see the point. Why on earth was I forced to waste precious me time that could be spent sketching garden birds or playing with the kids down the lane, climbing trees, damming streams?
I just didn’t like school. Full stop.
I didn’t start reading until well after I was 50 and haven’t stopped reading since.
My favourite non-phone ability on my phone is the Kindle app. But that’s another story…
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I’d better mention my health before I go much further.
I’m feeling fine.
Tired, of course, but that’s only natural.
With the new data collected in my brain from last night’s conversations with various people, I’ve gained an oversight—in a homeopathic way:
Heart first. Everything else after.
There’s only one new concern, which I’ve now addressed in an email to my GP:
What does a high calcium count in my blood mean?
Although I emailed today in a bit of a rush, it wasn’t until after I remembered it’s a Saturday, and it’ll be two days before anyone sees the question.
Derrrr! What a plonker.
Geriatric? Maybe I am.
Anyway, the answer from the NHS paper on hypercalcaemia suggests it will be a cancer-related issue.
I’ll definitely ask both oncologists on Wednesday—AM and PM.
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Back to reading.
Better than being forced to read as a disinterested youngster, I became a real reader when I discovered the Kindle app “Aa” button at the top of the open-book’s digital page.
I was bored and tired of reading one day many years ago and stumbled on the menus, that pop up when you touch the page you’re reading. This was a monumental moment.
Firstly, I changed the page to white words on a black background. Well, that was brilliant. My eyes could read for longer, and I started to read faster due to not being blasted in my eyes from the traditional brightness of a white page.
But next was the thing that changed my enjoyment to a love of reading.
I changed the word-font to OpenDyslexic.
Suddenly I could read at speed without meaning to. It really is as simple as that.
Maybe I have an optical or mind issue I’ve had since infancy—not unlike dyslexia.
I’ll admit that following down a page line by line has always been a problem. Lines disappear as fast as words sometimes, but I thought that’s because I’m not able to concentrate.
Re-reading the same words or lines was typical. Understanding the sentences was hard too, and my general comprehension was always Grade D or E.
I’m forever grateful to the Aa button and those two adjustments, which have changed my perception of books—from being bad and being my enemy, like they were for most of my life—to now being one of my greatest joys.
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TV
You’ll gather by now that—apart from My Darling—I also have a love of music and K-Dramas.
The one I’m now watching is an ancient tale that’s been adapted in many interesting and funny ways.
This one is about a children’s fun-land park owner (ML) and a circus owner’s daughter (FL).
He has a worrying multi-personality disorder—hence it’s the old favourite retelling of Robert Louis Stevenson’s Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde.
It’s actually a silly rom-com, and I’m enjoying getting to know the characters and plot in the first few episodes. In fact, I’m loving it.
But it has got me thinking about my AFib.
One minute I’m minding my own business and having a lovely day, and all of a sudden—Wham! Bam!—the heart flips into madness and I’m turned into a fragile octogenarian, and get an unusually bad attitude.
And just as suddenly, without any fireworks or introduction, the good Mr U is back.
Calm. Less stressed. Wanting the nightmare other me to go away and do one.
I don’t know if it’s wishful thinking or my way of trying to K-Drama my life up, but it won’t have the happy ending I’m supposing the on-screen story is going to have.
More’s the pity.
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And finally…
Whilst I was being looked after last night in A&E, I had the good fortune to meet a real character.
My Darling knew her of old, and the small room rolled with laughter in between the serious stuff.
Thanks, Anna. xx
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Anna
Anna don’t care what she says,
she is a triage nurse.
Please stay stock-still upon her bed,
or you will hear her curse.
Her wedding photos are divine,
but if her hands enlarged,
Don’t ever ask her ‘bout her ring—
or you will be discharged!
