Tag Archives: arthritis

Creaking and Complaining

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Two nights ago I made a special effort to get plenty of sleep, because it’s good for me. When I woke up I felt like I was paralysed. My normal creaky, slightly painful bad back (partly caused by our mattress – which will soon be replaced) ws locked solid, as were my neck and shoulders. Even lifting my arms was painful. It took me over and hour to get up and I spent most of the day in a chair with two hot water bottles. By the late afternoon I was much recovered and went to be early again, with the intention of not staying in bed so long. Six hours seems optimal. Eight hours tends to cause more problems than it solves.

We are having a new mattress delivered to the bungalow next week,so that will be an end to another of life’s little annoyances.

However, after a night of cold draughts, resulting in me grasping the bedding firmly and pulling it around me, I woke up with both hands aching. It’s only a minor ache in each joint, but there are 27 joints in a human hand and I can tell you where most of them are. It’s not actually painful, but if I ever need to write a passage about a robot spending a century underwater and then rising to the surface to flex his cold and corroded fingers I feel that I have done the research.

A creaking gate -both a metaphor and a way of stopping livestock escaping. 

Then I tried ordering some more bits for the bungalow. After half an hour and a “chat” with customer services, it turns out that although I am paying for the delivery I have no say over which day it is delivered. That isn’t, as I told them, a lot of use when I am two hours away from the delivery address.

Then the documents arrived from the solicitor – cost over £1,000. Typo on the first page, typo on one of the tax pages. Only small errors (though there may be more to the trained eye) but at that price there should be no errors.

So, after light at the end of the tunnel, another couple of days to add to my thousand cuts. But it’s moving.

And I have worked out a way to outwit the  delivery system at Dunelm. I will just have to see if it works next week.

Photos are random punctuation. I think I have some pictures of rust and creaking gates . . .

Snowy Detail

Quercus – TV Critic

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Things are getting better. I didn’t take any painkillers last night and my hand didn’t hurt overnight. It was also usable this morning. Unfortunately all my other joints were stiffer than usual and getting dressed took a while longer than I would hve liked. That’s the trouble with painkillers, you can come to rely on them. I will just hve to get used to life without chemical assistance.

I watched The Marlow Murder Club this week – a good two part mystery set in the Buckingham town of Marlow. It was very enjoyable – good cast, good characters, reasonable plot, though it did rather depend on a well-worn plot device (which I won’t reveal). I spotted it a little way into the second episode and was able to have a decent go at unravelling it. Do not believe the review behind the link when it says the ending comes as a “genuine surprise” – it doesn’t.

Bear with tools

It’s by the writer who created  Death in Paradise. That annoyed me this week by having a solution that depended on (a) a talking parrot and (b) a solution that depended on you spotting that one item was missing. I felt we didn’t get much of a chance to solve it. I also think that, in line with all the rules/guidelines relating to mysterious orientals, identical twins and secret passages, talking parrots should be banned.

This is the second week where we have avoided The Apprentice, and have enjoyed ourselves much more as a result. The formula is old and dull now, the apprentices are dreadful, Karen and Tim are poor replacements for Nick and Margaret and somebody appears to have told Alan Sugar that he is funny. He isn’t.

Bear in the Garden

The Slow Return

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It’s been quite a strain over the last few days. I’m addicted to writing and the inability to hold a pen or use a keyboard has been very frustrating. It’s not been total, but I’ve had to preserve my limited abilities for work. Even using the wheel on a mouse has been enough to cause painful joints. This has been a very bad winter.

Yesterday was the first day for ages that I haven’t come home with aching joints and sat all night feeling miserable with a hot water bottle.

I’m risking a bit of typing today and will see how it goes.

Yellow flowers in need of identification

Fortunately I have been able to fire up my Kindle and read a few history books. This hs still given me a few problems. One is that the weight of the device (which is lighter and less awkward than a proper book) has still caused pain in my hands and forearms. The second is that I am finding my memory is retaining less and after reading a book I am left with little more than a general impression, rather than the detail I would once have absorbed. I’m thinking of adopting a more structured approach and making notes, almost as if I’m studying.

The good news for the day is that it only took two attempts to give  blood. I was back home by 8.40 and eating bacon sandwiches made in croissants. I then watched antique programmes until Julia started to protest and decided to take to the keyboard.  It’s good to be back, but it isn’t a full time return yet as I will have to see how my joints react.

Flowers – detail

Short Break

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I’m afraid I’m going to have to have a short break from WP. Even typing a small amount is a bit of a strain at the moment, with my hands being less than 100%. I’m also a little concerned that part of the problem is RSI from poor posture when I type at home and at work, as I’m alos getting pains running up my forearms. This has happened before and I should have been taking better care of myself.  I’ve tried various combinations of rest and heat and painkillers and the pills and rest seems to be the best option.

I’m not ignoring you, and I’m not having a serious problem, it’s just that if rest provides the best hope I am going to have to rest.

If I don’t start to improve by the weekend I will ring the specialist and see if they can come up with anything.

Blossom at Wilford

In the meantime I will save my typing efforts to send off this month’s submissions, which haven’t gone yet. They are ready (near enough, anyway) but it’s a matter of concentration as the arthritis is taking too much of my thinking time.

With one thing and another, it’s time to get a grasp of my health. There is no point being retired if all I’m going to do is fester in front of the TV. I’m not going to make any sudden changes (my paternal grandfather, for instance, stopped smoking at 85 and died at 86, which has always struck me as ironic) but a little less food and a little more exercise, even a touch of fish and a suspicion of salad, might be called for here.

Like my pension arrangements, I really should have done something about this 50 years ago. Hindsight – a precise science.

However, for now I will confine myself to resting my arms and seeing how that goes. I am intending to confine my exercise tomorrow to lifting cups of tea and take it from there . . .

Daffodils

Quick Note

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Just a quick note. I will reply to comments soon, but for now I’m having to rest my hands. Even clicking a mouse button is currently a bit sore. I can use a different finger to do it but operating a mouse with different fingers or with two hands causes extra complications.

The same goes for typing – even using different fingers imposes strain on the sore joints. Last night I used a hot wter bottle but I’m not sure it helped. Today at work has been a bit of a trial, though arthritis was only part of that, and not necessarily the worst part.

On the plus side of the leger, I have had another acceptance, which ws for a tanka prose I ws quite pleased with. That’s often the kiss of death as editors quite often reject poems I am pleased with.

Aren’t you pleased with them all? I hear you ask. In truth – no. There is usual one in three that is just there to make up the numbers and  the other two are often OK, but don’t really excite me once they are done.

If you wanted me to sort out poems I am really happy with, I expect that out of the roughly 150 I have had published, less than 15 would be ones I was really happy with.

I suppose that’s always going to be the way of things – we are always fated to want to do better.

I will stop here. My clumsy fingers just wiped out all my words and I had to search drafts to find it again. It happens infrequently and I can never remember how to do it. Fortunately I was able to find it. This was very dis-spiriting.

 

 

Words Fail Me

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It’s Monday, I’m sitting at the computer, and my fingers are feeling a lot better than they did last night. I really am going to have to sort out my pill taking practices. Unfortunately the first knuckle of my right hand is still sore and is making it difficult to use the entire hand, including holding a pen. These things are sent to try us.

Duck – Arnot Hill Park

I’ve just completed my State Pension application form online. I don’t generally like official forms, but this one was quite simple and is intended to give me money. I could get used to this.  Normally they are a bit trickier and are aimed at costing me money.

Meanwhile I am starting to worry that the telephone consultation I had booked for 10.45 has gone astray. It’s over two hours late and though it’s not unknown for them to be late, I am less confident in the system than I used to be after what happened with my last telephone consultation.

Sadly, the Pension Application is the only writing I’ve done. Apart from making an omelette and a cup of tea it’s also the only work I’ve actually done. I had intended that today would be a day of industry. How many times have you herd that?

Fox – Arnot Hill

I just tried to ring the surgery to check about the appointment. The phone isn’t connecting and, at the moment it is also refusing to shut down. This is the second time it has done this to me and I am not happy. While it is trying to shut itself off (how difficult can that be?) nobody can get through.  In the days of simple phones this never happened.

I’ve now been waiting nine minutes to get through to the surgery and have had to listen to their recorded message about the new contact system starting in March. Apparently it will be quicker and more efficient to make contact via an online form. This will be reviewed by “triage practitioners” . This means that either the NHS has recruited a whole new level of specialist staff or they have given the receptionists a new job title. Guess which I feel is most likely.

I don’t suppose it will be a surprise to find out that I’m not keen on modern technology.

After 18 minutes I have progressed from number 7 to number 21 in the queue!

Sculptures at Arnot Hill

Back to Blogging

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Sorry about the erratic service. I’ve been very tired and disorganised and my hands have been very sore. I’m not sure what happened – I was recovering from the arthritis flare-up when it suddenly became worse. It wasn’t particularly painful  but my knuckles felt very tender and I had no strength in my hands for simple jobs like tucking my shirt in or using a fountain pen. Even now it’s a bit tricky pressing on the mouse button and I only have three capable of pressing down a key on the keyboard. Fortunately I don’t need many as I am generally a two-fingered typist anyway.

I have discovered why some of my eBay photos do not allow me to edit them properly. It seems to depend on the camera settings I use. My Panasonic, despite being old and slightly faulty (some of the pixels are missing from the screen) continues to be better than the pink party camera foisted on me by the shop owner. It has better battery life and close-up focus abilities so I carry on using it. For some reason it will no longer let me crop images properly. I don’t know why, but I have tested it on some other settings and can now crop properly.

Even if other things hadn’t intervened, I think I would be ready for retirement soon. It’s very wearing having to go to work and use a dreadful pink camera and a computer that won’t switch on properly and which works very, very slowly . . .

My cheap laptop and ten-year-old Lumix actually do a better job. Having worn out two cameras in the last six years I am becoming quite resentful that I am not provided with proper equipment to do the job. It will be quite relaxing to retire.

Photographs are from Julia’s recent excursions.

Gold £2 Coin 1995 End of WW2 Reverse

Coins, Coins, Coins

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Gibraltar £20 Coin 2016 – made from salvaged silver

Slightly warmer and slightly drier today. My arthritis attack, which I don’t think I’ve mentioned so far, is subsiding. The swelling has subsided, the pain is much reduced and I have most of the normal function back in my hands, though tucking my shirt in still needs concentration.

I didn’t avoid mentioning it because I am stoic and brave, I avoided mentioning it because I am stupid. I’d avoided injecting myself for a while as it’s painful and you can get way with missing  few doses. But if you miss a dose of tablets, which I did when I lost the last dose in last month’s cycle, things can get tricky. Yes, it was a self induced attack, not helped by the doctor’s system failing and taking an extra week to reorder.

Coin of Cabinda

It’s over now. I can confess. I’m on the way back to health and am grateful, once more, for the drugs. The cold and damp haven’t helped. They tell me it’s just a myth that cold and damp make arthritis worse. That might be true. It might just be that cold and damp makes everything worse.

We sold some decent coins today, and bought more junk. Fortunately we manged to sell some of the lower level stock on eBay. It’s nice and decorative, but it’s not quality coins. As we normally charge half price or less compared to the marketing companies, often just a quarter, we are providing great value. However, we don’t have to pay for massive advertising campaigns or pay large wages to marketing directors and people like that.

There is a quality coin sale on in London soon – a hoard of coins detected in Essex and thought to have been buried in 1066. There is some speculation about the owner burying the pennies and then being killed in the battle. But why would a soldier decide to hide his pennies in Essex and then march off to fight at Hastings, one hundred and five miles away? More likely it was a Saxon householder (though a rich one, as 122 pennies was a considerable amount of wealth in those days). Unfortunately the press do love an inaccurate, though poignant story.

And that is a brief account of events on Saturday. All in all it was a good day.

Then we mixed the left-overs from two meals and had corned beef hash and veggie stew and dumplings, to which Julia added a rack of sticky ribs. Yes, ribs twice in a week. This comes close to the lifestyle I would adopt if I won the lottery.

Dylan Thomas £5 coin Alderney

Tch! Forgot the title. Added it later so it may be OK.

Just Another Saturday

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Here’s what happened today. First, having suffered stiffening joints for a few days, I fell asleep in a draught  I just had to look that up. The spread of draft from America is making me doubt my own language.

I then woke up feeling like I was tied in a knot, went upstairs, realised I had left my phone downstairs (which also doubles as my alarm clock) and really didn’t feel like going back downstairs. So I didn’t. I just decided to wake up on time without a clock. After all, I wake up enough these days, how difficult can it be to wake up on time? With it being Saturday I can afford to get up a bit later and be a bit more flexible about time anyway.

It all went well to start with. I woke, as is normal, around 5.00 am. No, I haven’t suddenly developed industrious habits, I just have the bladder of an elderly man. As I generally sleep in two hour stints after my first waking, I was confident about waking on time. This is exactly what I did. At 7.20 my eyes clicked open, I checked my watch and gently creaked out of bed. That was the last thing that went right for some time.

With being stiff, everything seemed to take much longer than usual and it took me ages to get downstairs, which meant I was later than I wanted to be for work, which meant I couldn’t get a decent parking space . . .

Blah, blah, blah . . .

I had a number of interesting phone calls from people who had obviously given their carers the slip and gained access to a telephone. One was from a man who had just been reading a Jeffrey Archer novel. In it one of the plot points is that someone in the Royal Mint strikes some 2p bronze coins in silver. They are supposedly worth many thousands of Pounds and the man (and his wife, who joined the conversation halfway through) wanted to know how they would tell they had one and what did I know about them.

I know nothing about them apart from the fat they don’t exist. There are silver versions made in some years as a marketing exercise. There are a few known examples of 2p coins minted on cupro-nickel blanks where one has been left in the machine after making 10p coins. Some  make just over £1,000 and some don’t make that. Ignore the reference to “mule” in the newspaper article, a mule is a coin struck using two dies from different coins. I don’t think we have a specific name for one struck in the wrong metal, we just call them error coins.

He wouldn’t believe me that they don’t exist, His wife chipped in then, saying that she’s seen them on Google. I couldn’t find one when I looked. Meanwhile The Owner is telling me to stop wasting time and put the phone down. It ended with the gentleman telling me that he didn’t think Archer would write something that wasn’t true and me telling him that it was a work of fiction written by a man who was jailed for perjury so I didn’t think it was necessarily reliable. The conversation ended with me suggesting he contact the Royal Mint. He liked that idea.

Header is a picture Julia took while she was in town earlier today. Her life is much more interesting than mine. No, we don’t know why it ws there.

These are trees near the Mencap Garden.

Day 125

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It might have been having a good moan about it, or it may have been the application of hot water bottles over the last couple of weeks, but my fingers were a lot better this morning. Whatever the reason, it is a welcome development.

As a result, everything seems better. Even the birds are singing more tunefully, and I deadheaded 24 poppy stalks this afternoon, bringing the running total to 36, with a few more to go, as I didn’t do the second clump.

This is a very different pattern top last year, when we were getting about a dozen a day and they were lasting until mid afternoon. As far as I can tell they are lasting two, sometimes three, days, at the moment. The effect is the same, with lots of poppies out, but they aren’t producing the number of blooms daily that they were last year.

Whether it’s the time of year, the weather or the age of the plants I don’t know. I must observe and see what happens later in the year.

I’ve just finished watching the final of Masterchef and, though lost in admiration for the winner, am left wondering why they bother. Who needs a plate  spotted with oil and smeared with foam? Who, seriously, wants a dish with a name that includes so many words that you need to breathe in the middle of it?

“Stuffed chicken wing, chestnut cream, chervil root and Périgord truffle.”

I’ve written shorter poems than that, and I’m sure it’s not the longest recipe title I could find if I set my mind to it.  It should be possible to find one that includes the words “with pickled vegetables, citrus foam and a Parmesan tuille”. Some of them go on for an awful long time.

Foam, by the way, is not food.

Poppy