Nightmare 21 days and a dream doggie hug.

My nightmare 21 days and a delish dream doggie hug .

What a night mare my last 21 days I have had. Never thought it could be like this.......

After having spent a week away in Inverness at Raigmore hospital having radiation therapy (it is called, felt more like torture though) even though it wasn't intended to.

I went home to kitty cuddles and to recover.

After two days it started, the decline into a sort of abyss of self pity, self loathing and a feeling of failure accompanied by dread, not to put a finer point of it.

Each day for the next five years I have been told ,  take a prescribed a hormone tablet, as my particular form of cancer might come back. Might come back ......to stop it coming back . The thought was so hard to contemplate.

I tried not to, but every time I blitzed the packet and took a tablet each day, the thought in my head, it might come back..... I feel too full of life to want to shuffle off this mortal coil.

But we all must as is a humans fate. Fate... huh that's a laugh.

After a couple of days the nausea set in, followed by projectile vomiting day after day. After three days It was not going away on its own, I contacted the doc, who promptly prescribed some anti vomiting pills, the ones they give to expectant mothers.

I was lucky in that I blossomed in pregnancy and found it a very natural, earthy happy few months. I never vomited , just bloomed.

Here was life, fate making sure I had my dose of unhappiness. How dare I get away from it -  cheat it, avoid it?

As one gets older as with most things start to wear out, wear down. My batteries were running out.

As with most nausea, my appetite disappeared. Which is just as well really, vomiting a yellowy liquid is better than up chucking lumps of carrots one finds. Up side,  there always is one if one looks, it could be possible I could lose some weight !

When not eating, it brings other problems, stomach cramps and headaches etc.

I could not tolerate 'builders' tea. It was replaced with a much healthier versions of Lemon and ginger, green tea and earl grey, black. More healthy then at least. Another bonus.

I must try to eat.  Eat what you feel like. Mmmm ...... chicken and noodle packet soup. My husband made me a bowl. As I supped the liquid, I baulked when I got to the noodles Yuk ! Not able to.

What else might I eat that might help ? Cheese, yes cheese.

A couple , maybe only one ounces of cheddar was gingerly nibbled at. I felt a bit better.

Ginger helps with nausea, so a couple of ginger biscuits were enjoyed too. 

Anything sweet was attractive, jelly , we had none, a bit of old chocolate scraped from the fridge shelf was enjoyed. 

Can I really exist on one or two mouthfuls of scraps of food.?

Obviously, I had been eating far too much for too long. Another bonus, healthier eating habits.

Some good may come out of this process? Hopefully.

Along with the loss of appetite and on and off nausea, came lack of sleep.

When you take penicillin, it can cause drowsiness as can some of the other prescribed drugs necessary to recover form this journey. so.... after taking said drugs/medication, my eyelids became heavy and I would go into a slump, for an hour or two, until various unpleasant feelings filtered through and brought me back into consciousness.

 I did not want to react this way but I was useless to prevent it. All I could do is keep taking the prescribed medication and hope for the best. Drugs, consciousness, nausea, nibbles of food.

With all this came fatigue, necessary for the body to maintain it self.

No hoovering got done, no bed changing, no cleaning, no wiping no washing up.

Luckily my husband took over the latter task, only to retort, two weeks later "I think we need another dish washer, I am fed up of washing up!" he spat out  -- join the club. We set about figuring out how to fit one into the kitchen.

 What can I eat with cheese??? two small crackers, the butter made me baulk, the crackers did not taste nice.... Macaroni cheese, not made with sauce, but layered in a dish alternatively with bacon and onions. 

the macaroni turned to a horrible paste in my mouth. Cheese was nice though and the bacon and onions. This was about the only time in that last few years that I did not go on a big guilt trip after eating bacon.

Pigs are soo intelligent and cute . Poor things. I am of the opinion we , as a nation eat far too much meat. I try and have veggie days, beans on toast with cheese, followed by veggie curry and brown rice, or egg and chips if you are into eggs.

 It is relatively simple to go completely meat free these days. There are so  many products around, tofu,   soya, Halloumi and of course a plethora of vegetables from all over the world. A person can exist adequately on home grown vegetables, reducing ozone breaking causes.

We of course in the West are far too spoilt for choice, and some times a luxurious cream chocolate cake, or ribeye steak are a temptation too much.......We are a self indulged nation compared to 'third world' countries. 

I will never forget  returning from three weeks on Anjuna beach in Goa, to walk into a supermarket back home and feel like all my Christmases had come at once. Bright lights, colourful packaging, inviting smells sights and sounds. Enticements to buy buy buy, Too much sensory overload.

Some how or other, I started not eating norshopping in the weeks that followed by radiation.

Where I once would open a tin of Tuna, most for the cats, a small bit reserved for me to mix with mayo to top a baked potato, eagerly looked forward to. But not now. Opening a tin, the smell was so strong it took me aback and I had to leave the kitchen Lucky cats they had the whole tin. I was sick of feeling nauseous, pardon the pun.

 What doesn't kill you makes you stronger the saying goes, I am still waiting to start feeling stronger, but then the phone call.

My 23 year old family member, was asking me for money , again. I paid up , as per usual, they only had me and one other family member to fall back on, and I needed to help. Although this time I paid half, I am a pensioner now and only have a limited income and bills to pay.

 

This was not good enough, they needed more money, the other family member could not or would not supply it. Resistance produced more emotional blackmail, I admired the cheek. They could not get to work (work being a decent ethic to adhere to). Did I not want them to be a useful member of society? would that be my fault, then cough up. 

They had been ill, badly ill in a psychiatric hospital, why would I not help??? inferred, as with all

 emotional blackmail.... my patience was running low... 'you need to start to learn to pull yourself together,' I suggested-- How could I , once again inferred, carefully not said directly.

Eventually after a long  game of verbal ping pong, with the emotional blackmail veering on the extreme, I had had enough.

 It ended abruptly. They had  they decided I was no longer going to play, or had they, why the silence, was it temper, was it surrender?

This weighed on my mind.

It would have been so much easier to have just paid up, but being the responsible adult and with my resources running at an all time low, I would NOT be bullied.

Then it started, the doubt, the fear the worry. building and building to a deafening crescendo.

Staring to get scared I phoned the police for some advice- They said phone the local police of the area. The Scottish woman chided me saying 'if you were so worried you should have contacted the relatives nearest and dearest first ! Duuh ? How was I meant to do that because they had cut me and all other family members out of their lives. My 23 year old only contacted me because they love me and I am practically am all they have got.

Not knowing the entire situation, there could be any number of scenarios to this. 

I contacted NHS 111 for help and advice-- They told me to contact the local police as they have a way of finding peoples addresses. Indeed the hospital would have had the persons address and would have to divulge this to the police.

Non judgmental and very helpful I did as they said. Completely over whelmed and feeling all out at sea and totally helpless I dragged my self up to bed where I decided I would jump on the next train to where they were to meet up and try and sort this mess out !

My husband unaware of all the drama, ( he would not have understood, or tolerated it) became increasing annoyed at me drinking more and more gin.  We had a massive heated violent argument. I was at an all time low, there did not seem any way out of it. 

 The next evening I went to the store and bought a bottle of gin, with a tonic, (diet of course0 and drove the car past my home to a lay by. to have a think, a ponder and a drink trying to get my act together. and to try to work out my next moves. Put a strategy in place, if you will.

Opening up a packet of crisps an hour or two of self indulgence later, I realised I had over stepped the mark. I must get home and stop being so childish , as is my wont on emotional occasions such as these, go figure.

 I started up the car but the battery had become flat as I had the radio on for a few hours, It was dead, I had killed the car just as I had killed my self esteem. Tail between my legs I had to go home.

I left the car to stagger the few yards home, when I stumbled, being somewhat inebriated and came crashing onto the ground with a huge thud. Face planting onto the wet tarmac I tried to struggle to my feet. If you have ever fallen when inebriated, you might know how ridiculously hard this task was.

Staying on all fours I crawled to my house.

ADELE sings

' I'd go hungry, I'd go black and blue

I'd go crawling down the avenue
No, there's nothing that I wouldn't do
To make you feel my love' 

Here is some advice Don't do it. It is not good, it is not glamorous (even if you keep your high heels on) and it is extremely, Painful, love, trust me.

Completely forgetting I was bare foot, this soon became apparent, when upon crashing through the front door, the lino turning pink with my blood.  I was standing in a bloody puddle !OWWW that hurt. My husband shouted at me, .Where the hell had I been. Completely unable to formulate any sentences I  somehow managed to stagger up to bed 

In the morning the pain was excruciating. All the skin from the font of my feet has been scrapped off, I had a bruise 8 inches by 6 inches covering my grazed knee and I sported three huge bruises to my left arm. My face was scrapped also. What a mess . How did I get in this state I surmised??? 

It became all too apparent. I had gone out and beaten my self up with the help of the road. The following two nights and days the pain was excruciating. I might as well have been in a car accident. Stupid stupid woman. Weak ridiculous feeble minded over emotional stupid person I berated my self.

In the days that followed, the self loathing welled as did the pain in my feet. Painkillers were my bestest friends. But still the pain welled, until I could stand it no longer. I searched around for some bandages or plasters , too ashamed to ask for any ones help.

A few days later , the pain not subsiding, I tried to rub in antiseptic cream, but only succeeded in dislodging the multitude of plasters, thereby ripping of bits of skin with it. It was painful to walk. After 3 days I gingerly removed my socks that were providing a type of buffering. red feet, no skin, anywhere, a huge hole. I must seek medical help, sepsis , gangrene???

Luckily the doctor would see me in an hour that morning. I staggered over there, to be reproached by him for arriving too early... I was in a daze with pain and self loathing.

Sitting in his office he stared and stared at my feet ,  in a look of shock and dis belief then gave me a very reproachful look' Please don't look at me like that I beseeched. His reply was 'I have not seen anything like that in a long time!!! He rang the nurse and told me to return within the hour having patched me up as much as he could. 

I gave him an edited version, of course, of how it had happened. He was doing his best not to get too angry and went off the get me stronger antibiotics than I was on. when he left, the tears of self loathing remorse and relief poured down my face.

Upon return, the nurse was lovely. 'I cannot believe I have done this I explained. 'this must be the stupidest thing I have ever done in my life''' Try not to beat your self up ' she said kindly ,'lets get you patched up.' and went about cleaning my reddened putrid tootsies. 

The next  day a jolly nurse came round a jovial man in his late 50's. 'Don't be silly ' he said , 'we have all done things we regret' Which made me wonder what he had ever done.

He told me he used to be in forestry, I might ask him about some trees I have got and where to put them tomorrow, he is going to be my best friend in the next week or so, what a nice man. 

So you see there is something to be said for growing old gracefully. As I hang my head in shame, I will try not to beat myself up as instructed , regain my composure and sally forth. Seek help with my anxiousness. Another good result that was 6 days ago and I haven't touched a drop since, and doubt if I ever will . my liver and other parts of my body are eternally grateful. 

Up date ; another visit from the lovely Ron, he told me he lived on his own on his croft up past Spean Bridge a lovely part of the world.

 Having divorced years go .' I am single' he announced somewhat dolefully I picked up on the ruefulness.

 I thought to myself, how sad, he was kind, well groomed, caring and thoughtful. Everyone deserves a bit of companionship - I spose he gets his social rush from visiting patients. He has a lovely manner about him He told me he was sad that even though years ago he used to grow lots of potatoes, as he was 300 mile above sea level, due to climate change he was now no longer able to farm potatoes as they rotted in the ground before they were matured. I suggested perhaps raised bedding? He said he now got his potatoes from his neighbours, on a farm with whom he barters. So that was good. he seemed happy enough with that. Mind you , with his beer pot I surmised he spent regular nights at the pub and why not? a bit of company innit.

After that I have to continue to visit the nurse for dressings every day until they are healed. While I was there I suggested it was her mission to find Ron a companion and instructed her to invite him to Xmas things.... being the helpful busy body that I am. If it is meant to be , it will be. At least it's out there now.

On the way  back from the docs this a.m. my neighbour was coming out of her drive and stopped to tell me if I needed any thing, anything at all I was to knock on the wall and she would come over-- Heleanie is my age, if not older- I assured her I was feeling fine now and getting better every day- I waved at Jo, the other neighbour going off to work, everyone complained about the rain, there was a lot of it, but it is beautiful soft beautiful rain so I don't mind at all, I seem to be the only one, but having lived in Wales for 30 years, I spose I am used to it. Even the snow here is beautiful fluffy white as white , not like that grey slush that happens in Chesterfield.

Yes folks the rose tinted spectacles are still on. I defy any one to contradict me, come up and see for your selves-- Shangri-La.

I am in a better mood today . I got up, after 2 or 3 times before at 3a.m. I had x 2 crackers with cream cheese at 3.30a.m, then a crumpet a lemon and ginger tea, another crumpet  at  5a.m and finally at 7 a.m a pizza for brekky- My appetite and my humour is returning- I feel optimistic about the future, as the pain subsides my humour improves.

Before I went to the docs at 11 a.m I had done an hour Xmas shopping on line and applied for x 3 part time jobs-- need something to do. After a snooze I shall look again for a volunteer role -- feeling up beat and optimistic, at long last. Maybe that staying booze free for 9 days and counting has something to do with it.

I have ordered some Xmas lights for the garden and eagerly await their arrival. I have also decided to bring in my bay tree and deck that with lights and that will suffice for our Xmas tree. Right where are those Xmas cards ??????

Oh  nearly forgot . the dream doggy hug maybe that is another story, watch this pace, but what a great dream that was.

 My journey  thru radiation therapy    

Well 5am sees us up and going to Inverness for my first radiation treatment at 9.3o am. Dave dropped me of, I  dutifully walked myself to the Nuclear dept. to  be radiated, 

  Nobody tells you what to  expect as no  body explains the actual process or how you might feel about it. There are videos, sure, showing what it looks like looking on to a person having it, but it is a completely different story when you it is happening to you. 

Get on here and lie down the helpful nurses say. you dutifully oblige. Arms up in stirrups, which are arranged in a bespoke fashion, tailored only for you. 

Happily the diazepam has kicked in, but it still did not prepare you for what was about to happen, or how it would make you feel.

"We are just popping out, wont be long Elaine " they say cheerily, as they leave the room.

Ok. Then all of a sudden a loud whirring and buzzing starts. to your left a huge rectangle plastic box, approx. 3 foot by 3 foot descends towards you. It keeps going, 'cripes' you think , is this thing going to crush me? Surely it is too close???' inches from you it stops, them immediately from the other size another loud whirring and buzzing sound and a huge round machine comes over you, looking somewhat like a massive robot eye. then the machine start moving you with the noise constantly whirring buzzing and zinging, ringing in your ears. 

An electric beam, which doesn't hurt but which surprises you starts to move over your body , like something out of an episode of Doctor Who, complete with electronic music.

'I don't remember auditioning for a part of an extra in this series  'I think to myself. After what seems an age, but in actual fact is only 2 or 3 minutes it is all over, the machines retract, the lights come on and the radiologists re entry the room. 

"Right , that's it for today, you did well" they say brightly. "See you tomorrow, same time" ' I can't wait' I think to my self. and toddle off completely in shatters and in tears. Sobs come that cannot be helped. 'I'm so sorry I say' sobbing into my hands. "it's ok it's ok" they say , which they must have to 30 times a day every day-- they are used to it ,they tell me.

Because I was hungry, I go to find the canteen for a bit of (take away only) breakfast.The nuclear dept is in zone 2 and the canteen zone 9 , so a bit of a walk. I decide on a strip of (leathery) bacon , slice of black pudding and a spoonful of beans. It is put in a polystyrene container (naughty hospital) and I try to make my way back to my room, being completely lost. They obvs. operate a one way system and the hospital is vast, so once you find your way to somewhere, they spew you out somewhere you have no idea what direction you are facing.With no sign posting either !

I decide to walk until I find a suitable land mark. There is an icy wind whipping in off shore and 20 minutes later I am back in my room and my meagre breakfast is nearly cold. I eat it any way- I couldn't feel more miserable. 

I flick on the TV to watch terrestrial TV that I have been missing these past 6 months at home. It too was rubbish . 5 channels with only inane drivel on. Oh well that's me. Lunch time and I draw the curtains and try to sleep for an hour or so.

At least there is a kettle and a sink to make tea, but it is not long before I run out of tea bags , so lucky I remembered to bring lots with me. But I have to walk over to the main building shop, a 15 minute walk away  to buy some more. 15 minutes walk back and I am ready for a snooze again. 

I bought some sandwiches from the shop for tea, watched a bit of silly TV and went to bed at 9 am .

4 more days of more or less the same , without the crying, and it was Friday ready for home. 

My lovely husband was not waiting for me as he promised. Great. He did eventually turn up, 10 minutes late, but parking is difficult, so his usual punctuality and also  the early morning traffic through the city of Inverness had him falling behind. 

I dropped off a tin of sweets and a thankyou card at Radiology but couldn't help thinking that was not nearly enough for all the gratitude I felt for their care.

Nay bother, I was paracetamoled and tramadol led up to the hilt, so was floating on a cloud a bit and gratefully climbed into the back of the car to fall asleep on the back seat.

 Mid way through the two and a half hour journey I wake briefly and groggily inform my husband " The cancer is all gone now I can feel it babes " and fall back to a half slumber.

Arriving home was the best, my beautiful garden looked neglected, but I was happy to see it as were my cats me. My one moggie flew into my arms and cwtched the life out of me, but the other, a very neurotic Siamese took the hump and turned his back on me but still couldn't resist sitting on my lap, albeit with his back to me. 

And soon I was happily ensconced on my fave settee with the two cats sleeping away, like a big furry warm blankee. Ah Bliss.

The next couple of days were a bit of a blur, think I was in mild shock then it started. 

What are the side effects of radiation therapy for some? well here is a list

1. a rash and inflammation from the plaster 
2. Sepsis 
3. throbbing Pain
4. stabbing pain
5. fever
6. necrosis (When your nipple turns blue and falls off)
7. Sweating
8. Sleep apnoea
9. loss of appetite vomiting
10. extreme fatigue

What , if any did I get ? Lucky me all of them apart from  Nos. 2 and 6 , for which I will be ever grateful.

But to top it off , after a few days of toothache my gum swelled and I recognised that there was a tooth abscess on it's way. Oh joy of joys. As if I had not experienced enough pain in the last 10 days. Luckily the dentist in Glencoe, fitted me in last minute and I drove 20 minutes with my face on fire ther. 

He was concerned and said I need to get anti biotics straight away. But as it had become dark I did not want to drive the 7 miles into Fort William and back as I can only see straight out of my one good eye. i did not want to be responsible for a road accident.

Luckily we in Kinlochleven, due to  our remoteness from and pharmacy, get our meds delivered to our local doctors clinic , where I just managed to slip in the prescription I was given and received them the next day.

Well folks, like childbirth I am already forgetting the past painful exercise and am starting to gain my appetite back and feel on the mend.

Which is just as well as s my lovely husband is making roast pork belly in bar b que sauce, honeyed carrots with black pudding and fondant potatoes for our dinner. Joy of joys, he is feeding me up, the cats are happy and I am able to get out and potter in the garden. Life is good and hopefully , will continue to get better. Amen.

                                                                                      

====m,

 SURVIVING CANCER

Luckily, I can say I am a cancer survivor to date. Thanks to the attentive NHS looking after my health.

After an operation in my left boob to drag it out of me. The  tediously never ending fatigue that was a feature of my life, has gone. The mildly annoying ache in my left boob, has gone. It has been replaced by , soreness, pain, a rash and a haematoma, which, I have been reassured will dissipate of it's own accord.

Looking it up on Tinternet, warm compresses and paracetamol rather than Ibuprofen, helps. Who knew? Thank the lord for Google. Hopefully it is a 'good' pain, in that my body is shouting at me that it is healing and to take it easy. 

I had a conversation with the radiation consultant which un nerved me a bit. They have to tell you all the ins and outs of a ducks bum, even if you do not want to hear it so that they can prove that you have made an informed decision.

My attitude is; You have had all the medical training, been certified so just crack on matey. I even explained to her that I was confident they are doing, what they should to cure me and I have confidence in their hands, but she carried on explaining anyway. I think they have to. It must be tedious for them repeating the same things over and over.

Like I said to the Opticians in Oban ' I'll bet you are sick of hearing the alphabet' to which he joked, 'Oh only the first 3 years of it I am OK now!' ha ha ha.

Anywho, after a lot of instructions about this that and the other, I woke up this morning with a nagging feeling of doubt in my mind.

Because it is the left boob, and the heart is contained on the left side of the body, there is a certain way you have to pull the boob, as this moves the heart to one side to avoid the radiation hitting the heart. When  I accused her of making this up. She guffawed and replied with ' Yeah, who knew huh?' 

 Now I know I am not the first person this has happened to, but that thought scares the bejesus out of me. What if I can't do it properly, what if I cannot hold my breath for long enough, What if they radiate my heart because of my fault? I have no faith in myself. The thought is scary.

I will have to talk this over with the cancer care nurse. She is a godsend. And much needed.

Radiation person instructed me to drink lots of water and to take exercise every day, to try to shift the 'gunk' 'Gunk Is that a medical term?  I enquired. She said, 'Gunk is a perfectly good word'. I must admit I did know what she meant. Layman's terms I expect, for want of a better word, gunk will have to do.

I drink superfluous amounts of tea per day anyway. I always have x 2 mugs every morning before I do anything else, then elevenses, lunch sees me with another mug, then 3 or 4 in the after noon. This has been a lifelong pattern for me. I do not suppose I will ever change now. At least I do not have sugar in it any more. It does not seem a lot to me either but a lot of people baulk in surprise when I confide how much tea I drink. Can live without my cuppa.

She also expressed how important it was to 'get out into the environment, to take your mind off things' I wonder if everyone has the same pep talk? Or is it just me. 'I don't know what it is like near you, but here it is a lovely sunny day' I replied that indeed, there was a lovely ray of sunshine to which she retorted 'Well get out in it then, Oh and take a supply of vitamin to counter osteoarthritis and we will give you a bone marrow test for good measure to see where we are'.

I forgot to tell her I spend much of my day in the garden, if only weeding. I spose most retirees, like me start to get up later and later and reside indoors for much of the time? But I am not like most retirees, or most people, I find. But I suppose the advice is a set standard and she would be remiss in her duties as a carer if she did not impart all this information.

What I have to do also, is tale an Oestrogen tablet daily.to stave off  any cancer returning. Every time I pick up the packet , my mind goes to the 'cancer returning' bit. What a horrible thought, to have to go through all this as well.

I think the worst part was the two weeks waiting for the operation. All the myriad morbid thoughts constantly play in your brain like some awful B movie. 'Walk of the zombies,' or 'Horror in zombie land. ' Normally those movies make me laugh out loud, but in my head you have to get to grips, something awful was eating you up from the inside, and was slowly killing you. That is an horrific thought in itself. 

In fact there is no getting away from the fact cancer is a horrific thing. A fact of life. Luckily, through research and dedication, scientists and medical practitioners save thousands of people's lives each year, world wide.

This also leaves me wondering what would, how would I have survived in another country with no NHS. I know for a fact, in the USA it costs literally thousands of dollars to just simply have a baby, never mind coping with complications. Money money money. It cost money to survive in any other country. The NHS is a wonderful institution. It doesn't matter if you don't have much in this country you will get excellent health care. In America, you will not be admitted into hospital before a thorough check of you insurance/ financial status. I know this because it happened to me when I was carted off there after a particularly horrible bout of gastric flu in New York. 

Luckily my insurance covered the treatment, just a quick look over and anti sickness pills BUT, unlike here, when you first arrive at the hospital, you are asked to wait while staff check on you financial status. If you do not have sufficient, you do not get a whiff of a ward or any medical staff. Not nice and not what you want if you have been unfortunate enough to land up there.

There are 'poor' hospitals where poor people are seen to,  and by poor I mean those without insurance or any funds. I do not know how they work , but I do know the staff there do not receive good remuneration, so my guess is as good as yours. We can but surmise on that one.

Well I must be off for my daily constructional, which for me is a really pleasant endeavour. I shall breath in the beautiful fresh air and let my gaze rest on all the surrounding mountains, of which there are many. I may even invest in some binoculars.......

 Breast Cancer Surgery- my journey

Yesterday, I ate so much I felt disgusted with my self. We had to get up early to drive to Inverness at the Raigmore Hospital for  a pre appointment, appointment for the next day. We had booked in at |the local Premier Inn as I had to be at attending at 7.30 am and the drive was over 2 hours long each way. I comfort eat and I was worrying about the operation, which was for a lumpectomy for breast cancer.

I started out with 'Brartkatofal (small pieces of potatoes and bacon) . Then we started our trek across to Inverness after approx. 2 hours we were nearly there and decided we needed refreshment and a convenience stop.

We found a tourist spot just before Loch Ness. We took a seat at the Nessi cafe and took outside under black parasols.

 It wasn't sunny but warm enough. It was brunch time so we ordered x2 breakfast baps, One sausage and egg (Dave) and one Bacon sausage and Haggis one ( mine) well we were in Scotland and there are many varieties of Haggis, always worth a taste, with a pot of tea for two.  When we received then , to our horror/delight the fillings were doubles. Double eggs, double sausage, double bacon. Well it was brunch and so tasty delicious, I forced myself to devour then. Oh the calories.!!!

 Upon arriving at the hotel, Dave checked us in and I booked us a table  at the on site restaurant/cafe. Not my choice, but Dave was super tired, what with being anxious and driving all that way.

On de-camping in our room I flicked the TV on sat on the bed and unloaded my snacks. 

Some Garibaldi biscuits, a Twix , crunchie and a small bag of Twiglets were gone in a trice- It was just like the good ole days, oh and a cup of tea.

At 7 we made our way to the eaterie where I had to stuff my ears with napkin as I had a 2 day old headache that was getting worse by the hour (why? was it a tension headache) I was experiencing shed loads of tension, that was sure. The tinkle tankle musak was grating ! Far from adding to the ambience it detracted, well annoying. The bar staff looked agog as they wtached me stuff napkin in my ear !

At the order counter, we were told, there was no chicken dishes at all, no salad, and they ran out of lasagne.

There was a problem with supply due to Covid and truck drivers being pinged having to taking days off. It dominoed down the food chain to restrict supplies, in restaurants, shops and cafes. Even drinks were rationed, which did not bother me as I was strictly on water for two days. Surprisingly easy to do, I am sure my liver thanked me for that ! Little did I realise, that general anaesthetics makes one constipated ! Lol !

Because of the restricted menu, I ordered 2 sides of loaded fries and a macaroni cheese. Absolutely bloomin' LUSH. Phew, after all that I was sleepy and ready for my bed.

The cancer showed up only on the mammograms I had recently as I had absolutely no symptoms at all.

So off to Inverness we toddled, grateful and fearful in equal measures.

Arriving at Out patients we booked in for a pre op assessment as is the norm. 

After waiting for a short time I had blue dye injected in my boob, right next to my (very sensitive) left nipple.

Then the nurse massaged my boob to make sure the dye went through. Thanks luv !

"Right you're done" said the nurse "Go back to the waiting room, and wait 20 mins and we will come and get you"

 So off I trudge back to out patients in my gown with my top over like some ragamuffin. After 20 mins, 25 mins, 30 mins, no one came to get me. The great unwashed, came and went and I was feeling sleepy, due to two nights lack of sleep, anxiety, and the place being so warm.

'why haven't they come and got me I thought -weird'

So after 40 mins I trudge wearily back to the x ray dept. to be met with "Where have you beeeeeen?!" After apologising profusely I had 20 mins worth of x rays. It was while lying down and I nearly fell asleep.

After the all clear I was allowed to leave.

Hotel, restaurant early to bed ready (or rather not) for the next round.

Prior to the surgery day I had, x 2 mammograms, A core biopsy with local anaesthetic and mammogram at the Raigmore, and E.C.G test, bloods taken, at the Belvedor in Fort William and a Covid test. Belt and braces. Tedious, but necessary and funnily reassuring too.

Upon arriving at the Raigmore I had to find '5C' which some kind soul directed me to the 5th floor surgery floor. After a quick hug with Dave, me off to surgery and him off for a full Scottish breakfast . Lucky him.

"Right lets check you in" the nurse said efficiently, but kindly, showing me to a bed with a big red sign saying 'Nil by mouth' wha -wha oops.

Getting dressed into x 2 hospital gowns front and back for modesty I was surprisingly un perturbed. Mainly because the ward was extremely clean and the officious nurses swift and experienced. Buzzing around like bees in a hive, ticking boxes on paper work, x2 blood sugar tests, an injection in the tummy to stop blood clotting, apparently.

I pick up my Buddhist book studying the chapter on patience, I was engrossed, but constantly interrupted by the surgeon, the anaesthetist, the surgical nurse, the ward nurse. Funny compressor socks were supplied, sexy if you were into school girls!

Next trip was following an aide, with another lady, who was a nurse in a care home, poor thing was very apprehensive, 5 floors down via the lift and along endless corridors to be shown into a waiting room .

"I am a specialist practitioner and I will be inserting a wire via local anaesthetics, a mammogram and an x-ray, then you are good for surgery said the diminutive person, clip board in hand.

After 20 mins of squashed boob, wire inserting and x-raying it was back up to the 5th floor.  I made the assistant chuckle after much manipulating of said boob, I asked her of she kneaded a lot of bread, as she would be good at it. "No"," she quipped "but I might try it now ".

I was surprised at the number of male nurses and assistants working in the breast surgery ward, although other surgeries were also taking place that day.

Leaving the area and returning to my bed, I felt glad that this stage was over and we were on our way of getting out of there.

I forgot to mention, before leaving the hotel room, I showed Dave how I looked in the mirror, addressing my left boob saying "Goodbye cancer, I no longer want you in my body " Dave said that was the best attitude to take, but I really felt that way. Jeez, those hypnotherapy tapes must have kicked in.

Then after a short while it was time to walk across to surgery, "Follow me " instructed the nurse, file in arm. Off I went to another waiting room and another set of patients waiting, nervous, anxious, waiting.

One by one we were picked up and asked to lay on a trolley Nurse and anaesthetist on the other the consultant came in, checks were made, 

Then a young guy in scrubs was introduced to me. "Here is an intern may he put in the canula in you hand?" My heart sank, but I nodded timidly and flashed a watery smile "Oh God I hope he does not fluff this- which he did not thank Mary Jesus and all the saints !!! were my private thoughts. He managed with a lot of instructions and guidance, I spose they have to learn somewhere.

I was wheeled in, a mask going over my face and I drifted off................. what seemed like 2 seconds later I was waking up in the recovery sweet," Are you OK Elaine , how are you feeling?" Came the caring voices, angels the lot of them.

 What gets me is when they are not being caring they all seem to have a gallows humour-- Very funny. There are 3 types of patient according to the booklets they provide you with. One will ask a lot of questions (I had none after extensive googling) the next will ask only one or two and  a third will not want to know anything at all. 

I fall into the latter category having read far far too much on the subject, the contra indications and things that may go wrong seem to stand out . There are so many of them , but I will say if you receive the brochures pertaining to your particular type of cancer (there are many types) read them all through. They are positive, informative and say it like it is but always with a reassuring theme.

I determined I would let all staff know I fell into the latter category and when chatting with my cheerful surgeon said "I do not want to know anythingd upon replying to the obligatory 'do you have any questions?' question. he replied with a twinkle in his eye "Oh that's like me, I always do the surgery with my eyes shut anyway" I laughed and this remark gave much merriment to any staff I related it to as well.

The oxygen had me gasping for water and I drank a whole bottle of the stuff, while recovering, much to the amusement of the very attendant recovery nurse. She chatted away, waiting to come round fully , telling me she was frightened of dogs , but had a Shitzu " for the kids"  adding "I am frightened of him but I still worry bout him " and we agreed pets where like a part of the family.

Afet what seemed a very long time, my blood pressure which is high , goes up and down like a yo yo, (they are very careful ) I was wheeled back onto the ward, and one by one all the ladies arrived, in varying states of recumbence. Did I want more water ? OOH yes, a jug was dutifully brought and downed. Along with a big mug of tea Bliss. Next would I like a sandwich " Ham, Tuna egg or cheese ?" I opted for Tuna. When it came it was on white bread. I never eat the stuff if I can help it, my bread of choice is brown, wholemeal, seeded etc. White bread is the less expensive option of course and probably easier to digest. 

I rolled my eyes to the lady  in the bed 'White bread !' tut ,across from me , but, when I opened the packet, the fresh waft of the tuna, saw me wolfing the whole thing down in a trice, along with another mug of tea. I was ravenous Lol! 

After that we started chatting, as she was into cooking , like me. Her husband had just retired and he was also starting to cook ' mainly curries', which she was not a fan of. I suggested she buy him a cookery course for Xmas, in cakes or fish (which she loves) which she thought a good idea, and I was glad I able to help, albeit in a small way. I carried on chatting to her after she confided to me she was diagnosed with a cancer that was carried in her genes, one I had never heard of, which flare up sporadically and there is no cure. She was first diagnosed at the age of 30, when her daughter was in a push chair 30 years ago and she had been in and out of hospital ever since. sometimes she can go for a year with out a flare up sometimes she in in and out month after month. Poor lady. It is hard to imagine the grit she must have to muster to carry on. She chuckled the surgeon s parting words are "See you next time", but they have kept her alive for 30 years, so good on them.

She said the general aesthetic always made her nauseas, every single time. So I suggested ginger, biscuits, a piece of ginger, as many years ago whilst pregnant I was informed this reduces nausea, and it works. So we chatted about nutrition, etc. recopies, fish, her husband and daughters, it helped to while away the time.

 It was only after 3 hours they let me go, I assume they were waiting for my blood pressure to normalise, and gradually it did. I kept telling them I was fine , in an effort to get them to let me go, but of course they were watching my vital signs and knew better.

Eventually after I was given more paracetamol and a tramadol, ( the incision sight was aching) I was released to a grateful husband .

As I walked, rather unsteadily towards him my 'Eh oop me duck' greeting was met with "Am I glad to see you!" The poor soul had been waiting in the waiting area for 4 hours !!!

I was never so glad to see him too. I am truly blessed to have such a kind soul as him looking after me, and this whole experience has me counting my blessings.

Alright, life is not perfect, it never is for any one, but you just keep on keeping on and it is important to look at what you feel grateful for everyday.

I am grateful for the care , attention, and yes love, I was shown throughout my brief stay in hospital, the staff were kind, caring and what's more efficient, as are all the hospital and medics leading up to this final day. We are so lucky in this country to have an NHS. Buildings full of angels truly.

My reason for writing this down is, if anyone who is having to suffer the hoorors that can be the Big 'C' I need you to realise the medical staff are here for you. They pull out all the stops to cure you, to do the best for you. 

The worst part, I found was not knowing what was going to happen, and feeling enormous fear and trepidation at what lies ahead. What lies ahead is that you will get all the care in the world and you will be looked after to the 'Nth' degree, Trust me I've been there. 

I don't know if it was the Tramadol or just sheer relief, but I told my husband on the journey home, "My cancer has gone now , it really has" I have a new lease of life, which I intend to cherish, as you will do if the NHS staff have anything to do with it. 

Go to all the mammograms get checked early , it will save your life.😃

 MINDFULNESS EATING

Years ago, when attending meditation class at a Buddhist temple or 'Centre' as they preferred to call then, indeed they were held in an old Welsh Baptist church. I would go everyday all day Saturday to read Buddhist scripts and then discuss them with other like minded people lead by our very own in house Tibettan monk, Donyo, who I loved dearly.

He was always so kind and loving and made each and everyone of us feel better about ourselves and the world. He was a joy to talk to and listen to. |He had a great knowledge of Buddhism and put up with all our ignorant questions with a smile. He would always answer ever so patiently and kindly.

One day we were all taught the mindfulness eating meditation. This can infact be applied to anything in the world.

Today I mindfully eat a cabbage and peanut in cheese sauce dish I had made earlier. Having just read a 'How to de stress' book, by Charles Lindon it recommends concentrating of one thing only. 

I had some for my lunch and rather than flick Netflix on to watch something, I decided to apply this meditation to my meal as I was eating.

It consists of looking at your , in this case, plate of food and remembering all the effort and the people who made the effort in getting those things to you. How they were created and cared for by others so that they could end up in your possession and in this case in my tummy !

The cabbage 

A farmer, many months ago, took a seed and planted this cabbage, probably along with thousands of others. He made sure it had enough water to grow and may even have fertilsed it to improve his stock. when it was time to harvest he employed people to go out in the fields and pick it. This then had to be transported back to the farm to be loaded onto the lorry. In this instance we will not go into all the time and effort that went into making the lorry, but that could be another meditation for another day.

The lorry driver then transported the cabbage to the shops, either directly or via a distribution point. This particular cabbage ended up in Morrisons in Fort William where I bought it.

The store facilitated me being able to buy it and the woman on the till made a n effort to come into work to be able to scan my shopping. I brought it home and placed it on the vegetable rack to await cooking.

The Peanuts

It is a similar story with the peanuts albeit it from another country which also meant they had to be transported via a plane. The bag in which they were sealed needed some one to design the package and another factory to manufacture the bag of peanuts. They also have to be packed by packers and loaded onto a plane by airport staff. Add a pilot to their journey and a lorry at either end no doubt.

This time I remembered buying them at the Co Op in Kinloch. so this adds another worker in another shop to their list.

The Flour

The flour like wise came from a foreign country as I used Chinese flour from the Chinese supermarket in Chesterfield. so their journey adds more workers, more lorry drives more farmers and pickers and another plane journey.

The Butter, and Milk and Cheese

All cow derivatives all extracted in a particular way. Both need a dairy farmers and in the butters case

a creamery a packing station and lorries and lorry drivers. The milk requires a dairy farmer, a herdsman a milking parlour and packaging. Lorries and lorry drivers and shops to be delivered to and bought from. Like wise the butter wrapping and the milk bottle all had to be manufactured in another factory and designed before manufacture

Likewise the cheese.

All these people, were involved in me being able to combine them to make this recipi, which was very tasty and enjoyable.

It's amazing isn't it? I am grateful to all those people who work tirelessly, often on low wages to bring food to my table. I hope they realise that we all are grateful for the food on our tables the world over.

Mind you you wouldn't be able to do this meditation on everything as I think your head would explode, but every once in a while it is useful to do to develop a sense of community and thankfulness which is always good for ones' soul.

Try it for your self, you might be amazed at the amount of effort it takes to enable you to live your life in a comfortable way. It certainly evokes gratefulness and compassion and I am glad I was taught it.

DO YOU  HAVE TABLE MANNERS ?

Do you have table manners? I was brought up with them from a young age when families would sit round a table to eat together on a regular basis. I remember it was a pain at the time as heavy adult crockery is hard to handle for little fingers, but I'm glad I have them now.

Different cultures have different etiquette rules of course , but in good old blighty one is excepted to be polite when eating with others. It is a sign of respect for the other diners, as we are supposed to be living in a civilised society. In fact I cannot befriend you if you do not have proper table manners, and I see it as a slap in the face, if you cannot make the effort to practice them when eating with others.

When eating on your own , you can do what you like, but if you are sharing a table, it is only polite .

If you are not polite, then you are not a friend of mine. There are exceptions to the rule of course, that I have no power over, and when sharing an dining experience, I find it incredibly rude when people do not follow the proper etiquette, but have deduced, when thinking over the subject, that these people have never been taught them.

For instance, getting up and leaving the table, as soon as you have finished eating, whilst others are still munching away, without a bye -your-leave, is extremely rude. If you have to leave the table, before everyone is finished, you should excuse your self , politely.

Also when eating out for instance you eat by picking up the cutlery from the out side in. And never ever, ever, gesticulate with your knife or fork. When I see people doing this in a restaurant, indeed, I have even seen people do it on the TV on 'Blind Date' but mostly it is the younger adults. I don't think an older person would dream of doing this, unless they had been dragged up !

I sound really pompous, but in society today, where there is chaos and anxiety, sitting down to eat with friends or family, is a time of relaxation, and gives you the ability to find out about each others day, and to re establish ties. Being polite is a good ground rule.

I once went out to lunch with a group of people, who just happened to be a group of women. It was a sort of meet up group, and one new lady had joined us, and it was her first outing.

It was at a little bistro around the corner ,of where I used to live, called 'Libbys'.

In the middle of lunch, the leader of said same lunch, started a verbal battle with another member of the group and voices were raised, concluding with her slapping her hand on the table with rage. Not only did she make a show of herself in public, she made the other diners on the table and in the rest of the Bistro, very uncomfortable. How rude ! No rowing at the table ! Well she was from one of our ex colonies, so many be that kind of behaviour is acceptable where she is from, it certainly isn't here in the UK.

I think not many people know this one, even though you are provided with a butter knife for your bread roll, you should not use it to cut the roll, but break it up with your hands. It is said that if you use the butter knife (the clue is in the name) you are indicating that the roll is stale, to your hosts, which, again, is impolite.

Antiquated as it may be, the etiquette rules are there grounded in common sense, and just makes life easier if everyone follows them.

The one I can't get on with is scooping your soup from the bowl away from you, rather than towards you, as that looks greedy. I think as a rule, this one has lapsed, but I bet some people follow it still.

That is another thing, you mustn't wolf your food down, but keep in rhythm with others at the table if at all possible. I do not know how people do not at least know of these rules of etiquette, 

It is almost an impossible thing to do with my husband, as he eats very slowly due to the operation he has had to his jaw, making it difficult to do anything other. We have got used to this now, and most people allow for this if ever we eat out.

Although, he is a breaker of many other table manners. He gets up from the table when finished, not sitting, to 'let his food go gown' . Digestion is key to good health. But to be fair many people will have finished long before he has.

He throws his knife and fork onto his plate when he is finished. The majority of folk do not realise, that when eating out, if you want to rest for a bit, you lay your knife and fork at an angle, as sign to the waiter/ress that you are still in the middle of eating. When finished however, you are to place the knife and fork, together in a parallel fashion. 

I do not know if you ever notice but the waiting staff , will ask you "are you finished " before taking your plate away. I assume from this that many people do not follow this rule table manners, my husband certainly does not. I have given up trying to correct him as he simply growls at me when I mention it. When eating out there will be separate wine glasses for red or white wine.

We  mostly have wine with our evening meal, but do not bother with this as I always have Red. Sometimes we will have a white, usually fizzy, which again is in a different shaped glass. Now that is one piece of etiquette that my husband dos adhere to !

I know these days people are much more relaxed about eating together, but there again, you can be at an informal buffet, where it is OK to eat with your hands, but I feel, if someone has gone to the trouble of laying a nice table, it is only right to show appreciation, by being polite.

In other cultures , in India, for example, it is OK to tear of a piece of naan bred, or chapati, and scoop your food up in your fingers. That is why they always serve these flat breads with the meal.

In the U.S.A it is quite normal to eat with just one fork, no knife. Indeed since the burger chains arrived from over there we are encouraged to eat with our hands. I remember going to a burger joint, whose name slips my memory, when I was about 17, in London. We had a burger and a cup of tea, served in a Pyrex cup and saucer, and a Pyrex plate , complete with a knife and fork !!!! How times have changed. Pyrex is a clouded glass material very common in a cafe setting, in those days. Serving tea in a paper cup ? Never!

I have only recently learned that the Chines and Japanese find us eating their food with a knife and fork rude because it is seen as bringing a knife to the table. That is why chopsticks are provided because they would rather people eat with them. However they seem to have gone with flow, realising it can be very difficult for some diners to master the art of using chop sticks.

I try and use them as much as possible, but sometimes I have to resort to the good old fork !!!

I have a habit of cooking with a chopstick, singular, and it is surprisingly effective.

 I myself do not like those ceramic spoons with a high edge they give you to eat soup. However I have seldom find an alternative is provided.

To me , you do not have to be on your 'best behaviour' at all times, but knowing a few etiquette rules and regulations, a few of which I have mentioned here, means you can relax at the table and enjoy your meal, and let everybody else enjoy theirs too. 

That is the difference between being an adult and being a child. If you do not know or choose not to follow the rules, it shows you do not care for your fellow diners welfare and shows a couldn't care less attitude, which is not at all civilised. Whose with me on this one?

 CRASH BANG WALLOP

Crash bang wallop, my world has fell around my ears. And I cannot put a finger on why.

It could be one of many reasons, or maybe an amalgamation of a number of them.

Lets look at the year so far. As a taker of serotonin to back my faulty natural supply (my doctors has informed me is not unusual) I put my occasional spouts of depression down to horrible situations in my childhood.

I have concluded my mother (RIP) had a personality disorder. If not then she was just plain cruel. Not as bad as Sinead O'connors but coming a close 2nd. 

I don't think she ever wanted children, but used them as bait to trap men in the good old 50's, when it was still a disgrace, so you had to marry the girl.  

I do not believe it is right to speak ill of the dead, but in my mothers case it is hard not to.

She used to thump me , a lot, she would come at you with anything to hand for any slight mis demeanours, not making your bed, being untidy, which unfortunately is my default position.

Becoming a mother myself , I used to wonder  how she could be so violent with tiny children, it was just in her make up - she wasn't a very intelligent woman, but easy on the eye, to oh so many men.

Silly men.  She also was a  complete narcissist to boot as was the father. She had one female friend one, an Italian woman with children a similar ages to us 3 sisters 'Aunty Becca' we had to call her. I think she was the only woman who could put up with her, she kind of took her under her wing and we would often visit her, Her husband was an unfaithful aeroplane pilot, who was often the subject of her confiding how upset she was to mother.

Both parents loved to dress up and go 'out on the town' while the long suffering grandparents taking up the child care slack.

Last year I discovered I had an abscess after my face  became swollen up like a bright red balloon. I had left it 7 days to attend the dentist, thinking the niggling pain would go away- It didn't, getting much worse, as anyone who have experienced a tooth abscess will understand, I was shocked when it happened 7 months later. 

The new dentist I visited, explained the only way around this was to have the tooth out, or undergo route canal surgery, which I opted for. However with the pandemic throwing everyone's life on hold, it will be years before I can get that done. It is what it is, I do not have the cash to go private, but I would if I did. To compliment that, the enamel appears to have worn off my teeth, which are now stained  brown with tea, and red wine. brushing with smokers stain removal toothpaste only alleviates a little bit, making me smile conscious . It is embarrassing, but then, so is getting old. The aching joints the wrinkles, the saggy skin. I should exercise, I should do Yoga and meditation, but I don't simply through lack of motivation.

I feel trapped behind 4 walls not willing to go out. I find socialising a bore. Don't get me wrong I love talking to like minded souls and cherish those beings, but they are few and far between.

I am a people pleaser, who has lost her people pleasing skills. I constantly rage, at the state of the planet, at liars,  of whom there are many, at the TV, at the moon , as if my bubbling anger will help in any given situation. It doesn't in fact frequently makes matters worse.

But once I see the red mist descend, there is no stopping it. The funny thing is, most people will not retaliate, which is what it is designed to do. I mean to provoke and challenge. It takes a while for the anger to build up, but build up it will, to my shame. I should know better.

My husband is very kind and listens to my rants until I run out of breath. Is it inherent this fierce anger, a legacy of my birth? I would drop it off at the nearest anger recycling centre, if ever such a thing existed, in a heartbeat. It is of no use shape or form and just alienates those I care about, and just makes the situation worse.

Maybe it is my fiery Celtic heredity, they say the Celts are passionate race, but why has my passion , for anything else faded to a feint drizzle?

I have a studio and lots of virgin canvases, but I haven't painted in a year. I have a sewing machine spools of cotton and  materials, I haven't sewn any thing, apart from two masks, in 2 years. 

I love cooking, but am a keto diet now, until I lose the weight. |Maybe that is why I am such a cross patch now a days? It does make you lose your appetite .

I just feel as if I am waiting to die, and find it hard to glean any pleasure from anything. I think I have just described someone who is depressed. 

I need to pick myself up and pull myself together, only I can't.  The effort needed is too monumental.

I am in a comfortable position in my life, at last, but I am sort of scared of living. Irritated at everything.

Flies, midges, weeds, washing -up, gets my gander up. I wish I could get rid of my gander I really do.

My mother died recently, and every time someone says 'oh I'm sorry' I tell them not to worry about it, as we didn't get on anyway. What was her life for? She was a grade 'A' mega twit of a woman. and nasty with it, her favourite party trick was to deliberately get on someone's nerves.

I remember her once calling one of my nieces husbands by another name, through out a lengthy conversation, which he graciously ignored. Taking her to one side to alert her to her mistake, she pursed her lips and shrugged, "I know, but it keeps him on his toes" What ? I could not believe she was serious, but  she was.

Another time, when I was about 16, I was up visiting my sister in south London, we called in on her and had a conversation on her doorstep. It was evening time and the street lights were on. After a while  she turned to me, and asked my sister who I was. "It's me "" I exclaimed, smiling, "Me who?" came the reply. My sister had to tell her who I was. Talk about a slap in the face , crushed. Despite  not having changed since she last saw me, having long straight hair as I always did, did not jog her memory, even though I had not seen her for a year or so.

I took from that , she really would have liked me not to exist. The rot had started to set in  our relationship, which was one of a bully and her victim. I really should put these resentful feelings away but it is still raw. Being rejected ,like that, by your own mother is a bitter pill to swallow.

In fact , when she took our little sister back after famously falling out, and leaving her husband, she put her in a home, at 14.

My elder sister and I had left home by then, being  20 and 21. Luckily for her, her foster parents enjoyed having her and they got on like a house on fire.

I know I need to seek help, some talking therapy perhaps, that worked the last time. My head is so screwed up, like Churchills black dog, I will just have to hunker down and hope the brain fog and absolute feeling of worthlessness goes away. Like a great man once said "If you find your self going through something , keep going" I. n other words keep on keeping on.

My friend suggested I take myself off on a nice walk, maybe take myself out for a meal, but I could not even manage that.

Yesterday I washed up, hovered round, put a wash in and on the line, dug the garden, put plants in watered them and watched a couple of interesting things on Netflix. But today, it's crash bang wallop, back in the dolldrums, Ah Me !