Post 92: No Pain Without Gain
Forcing each other out of the mundane for a trip back in time is what you have to do—even if it means a sleepless night.
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All day we had good timing and a good dose of luck as we ventured out on the bus for a day out — a day date.
We hadn’t been to the Royal Wells for a lifetime. A place of entertainment with many touring bands and acts at the assembly halls - but back when the kids were in pushchairs, it was to pop into our Mecca — the wonderful Disney store.
Sadly, over time the Disney stores have closed down and become online-only, so the magic is now lost. You don’t get the same vibe when you thumb your screen to find the new items that might take your fancy online. Gone are the days of walking into the shop on the uppermost floor of the mall and being greeted with a smile from the character helpers, while enjoying the colour and noise that goes with excited children and adults picking up plushies or trying to drag their kids out the shop to go elsewhere for the more practical normal shops.
Our kids grew up with Disney films and video shorts that were played to death in that “play it again” mentality of their childhood.
So the Royal Wells had not been on our list of destinations for a while, and that was a good enough reason to go there.
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The only issue I had was the hill that the town is built on. Yes, that might be a problem with my lack of stamina. But My Darling says:
“If we get the bus to the top of the town and slowly walk back to the downtown (to its namesake tonic waters and spring), we won’t get too tired.”
“Good idea - as usual, My Darling,” I replied — and so we had our plan of action.
Obviously the plan was going to be a good plan until it changed — but we’d already enjoyed a tasty lunch at “Bill’s” immediately after arriving at the top of the hill, and wandered past the wonderful Opera House, criss-crossing the road for shops and retail diversions.
At the bottom of the hill there’s the old central railway station and, opposite, an ornamental garden. As I was due another dose of pain relief, we sat and had an ice cream watching the world go by.
With pills popped it was nice to rest up and chat, and the topic of “how do I feel” kept cropping up. It seems that since I was asked that question at counselling on Monday, it has become our mantra. Not the scary, invasive raw poking it seemed originally — now a real delve into my and My Darling’s honest feelings.
Anyway, we had a very long meandering chat in the cool air under the trees, getting some ideas and thoughts off our chests. Who would have thought my homework would keep popping into conversations in such a natural way?
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The rest was indeed necessary, and the play park on the other side of the trees was full of kids enjoying all the amenities in a beautiful, safe spot hemmed in on all sides by big old family homes. We left the scene as we found it and sauntered down the tiny historic streets with their fancy shops and old boozers.
The “Walks” or Pantiles is where we ended up, as planned. The well was pumping the mineral-rich water — iron, manganese, zinc, and calcium — but the free drink offer of the past is no more. The last time I visited, as a child with Mum, there were little cups for a sip. I remember the taste being disgusting. But these are modern times, and due to health and safety (I guess), it’s now a vending machine where you can buy a half-bottle of T.W. water. Modern and infection free but a bit sterile compared to the charm of those black-and-white timber-fronted cafes and shops.
Then came My Darling’s inevitable request:
“I need a comfort break…”
“That’s halfway up the hill,” I said, “so it’ll involve a bit of a walk.” -back up the hill we were only going to descend.
Back we trudged to the earlier park and its facilities. By then, late afternoon, I suggested we stop at a little Italian I’d spotted earlier — the one with happy diners enjoying their lovely looking pasta out on pavement tables.
All day we’d had such a relaxed rhythm, and this meal — just the two of us at a cozy table — felt like the final bow. We were tired, yes, but also filled up with love, laughter, and tiramisu (ok, that last one might be poetic license - we didn’t have the room).
By the time we’d hobbled up the rest of the hill to the bus stop, we’d clocked four and a half miles.
The bus took us to Mr Vicious, who greeted us with great disdain (i.e., hunger), and once fed and fussed over, all was well.
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That night, though, pain crept in like a slow fog. I took my final dose of the day, but it wore off too soon. The night became a tightrope of cushions and wincing. I couldn’t lie flat. I couldn’t sit. I couldn’t sleep.
So at 1:30 a.m., I came downstairs with a tower of sofa cushions and tried — in vain — to find a position that didn’t trigger back spasms or shooting pains.
I think I’ll abandon my theory about food being the pain trigger.
It’s definitely not that.
I need better advice — the clinical kind. I’ll call the hospice today.
Still on the bus.
Absolutely loved our day out at the Wells.
I’ll have a quiet day tomorrow.
Did I do wrong? I hope not.
I just need to plan better.
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Down, but not totally broken. 
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And just before I end this blog…
It was worth it.
The pain came, sure — but so did the joy.
The laughter, the pasta, the past — and My Darling, always beside me.
Tomorrow I’ll be wiser.
Tomorrow I’ll be gentler with myself.
But today, we lived a little.
Still on the bus.
Feet aching.
Heart full.
