Could there be more?

Posted on June 18, 2016 by livinginalimitedword

I sat last night on the edge of the bed and tried to talk to Adam about what the doctor had said to us when we were at the hospital on Tuesday. I was hoping that he would be able to see it from another angle, to give me something to work on, or believe. I tried putting my understanding of what was said in several different ways, but all of came to the same point. “That we had been told there was nothing they would do, as they weren’t prepared to operate on me, for anything other than a total emergency, and therefore, I was on my own. It wouldn’t matter how bad things got, how much pain I was in, or anything else. They quite simply wanted me to take more and more Morphine, to try and cover the pain, until I died.” He annoyingly just kept saying the same thing, “I can see why someone might have taken what he said that way”, then went silent. Even when I pushed by saying things like, “Well, is there any other way of seeing it?” He just sat there silent, offering me nothing at all. I could come to no other conclusion than, he had also taken it that way, but was desperately trying not to say it, because if he did, he would then have to admit, what was happening.

This is where Adam and I are so different. I don’t have a problem with saying that basically, I am being left to die. My guts are being expanded every day because the nerves won’t push the stools through, it just compacts them until everything is pulled tight. It has become increasingly painful over the last 4 years since it started and like all skin, there will be a limit to how far it will stretch. If any part of it fails, well the issues of a perforated bowel, are something no one wants. It is a fact that more and more nerves ending die daily throughout me, the time will come when those in my gut, are diminished to a point that they won’t trigger enough muscles, to do anything worthwhile. But long before either of those things happen, I am going to find it increasingly hard to breathe. I already have problems thanks to the pressure from below, pushing upwards on a weakened diaphragm and lungs, which have their own issues with dying nerves. It doesn’t matter what the doctors want to do or not, I am dying. On Tuesday, they just added another way that it might happen, that I hadn’t quite grasped. So Morphine, here I come.

I had thought that Wednesday was going to be just a day. The carer was due here to give me a shower, but having got through last week, I was feeling much better about the whole thing. I haven’t exactly been thinking about their visits, but slowly, whenever I found my thoughts in their direction, I was gradually feeling calmer as the days ticked on. Even when I started laying out my clean clothes and making sure all that was needed, was on hand for her arrival, there was calmness that was totally missing from last week. I guess that our brains work on these things without us even knowing. As the day ticked on, I have to admit there was a slight apprehension that grew, but it was just slight. I kept myself busy as always, but as 4 pm arrived, so did my first attack of nerves, nothing over the top, just enough to know it was there. It wasn’t until much later when Adam came home, that I found the perfect example of what had been happening to me between 4 pm and her arrival.

Adam is the sort of person, who if he is expecting someone to call, reacts to almost every sound from the road outside, by standing and staring out the window, to see if it is them. Clearly, I’m not going to keep going back and forward, I’d be exhausted, but I still do the same sort of thing internally. So here I was, sat here, winding myself up every few minutes and being ready to head to the intercom to let her in. I waited and waited. 4:30, 5 pm, 5:30 all came and went, and no sign of her, just me getting more and more stressed. Then the front door opened, 6pm and Adam was home from work. He took one look at me and knew exactly where I was, on the point of tears. He made a phone call, but only managed to get connected to an answerphone. Adam was furious in front of me, but when at 6:30 the doorbell rang, he became his usual amiable, jovial self. Two and half hours late and there was the carer as though nothing had happened. She said that she hadn’t been told about the need to be here at 4pm, but I found that hard to believe, as Jane, the carer who was here last week, knew all about it. By that point, I was so tired, so wound up and totally unable to even think about going in the shower, help or not.

Adam eventually spoke to someone at their office on Thursday, and they too said that the stress on timing, hadn’t been passed on to them. They have also reassured him that this will not happen again and that I will be seen as near to 4pm as possible. All we can do is wait and see what happens, but right now, I’m not exactly filled with optimism.For weeks now, I have been searching for the point where life will just feel normal, not stressed, not tied up in things to do and I can just have what feels like a restful day. Somehow, I don’t see that happening anytime soon.

Please read my blog from 2 years ago today – 18/06/2014 – Home to Mother

Teressa called last night to let me know that she and John will be here at the beginning of August for a week. I guess we will be able to spend quite a bit of time together as unlike Christmas the rest of the family and friends in Scotland will be working. She always sounds so happy these days, not like when I would hear from her when she was married to her first husband, then she always sounded…..

Body science

Posted on May 15, 2016 by livinginalimitedword

I seem to have the twitches today. Not the normal ones that I live with, this is more like a shudder that is traveling through my entire body, but only, in the parts of me that are actually moving. If any part of me is motionless, then I don’t feel a thing. Should I move my hand and say my foot at the same time, the shudder is there identically in both. It’s not only bizarre but it is also mildly upsetting. I know that I have felt it before, exactly when or what caused it then or now, I don’t have the slightest idea. It’s one of those things like so many others, appears, disturbers me for a while and vanishes. Admittedly, it doesn’t cause me any pain, it doesn’t do me any harm, but the same can be said for much of what happens in my body and possibly yours. Yet all of us go on daily, living with these things that no one really cares about because they aren’t going to kill us. Tell your doctor, and they might give you some kind of medicine that might possibly help, but they probably aren’t any more sure about it than we are, plus, they don’t have to live with their side effects.

I learned a long time ago that I had to gauge for myself, just how important it is for me to be rid of this or that symptom. To begin with, I was more than happy to take whatever drug they threw at me. I have and still do have amazing trust in my doctors, but I learned not to have the same trust in their medications. The problem I now know has a huge amount to do with my condition. I didn’t know it then, but I do now, that PRMS is notorious for not responding to any of the range of MS medications. When I was first diagnosed, according to the internet, PRMS didn’t exist. I even questioned my consultant as to why no one had heard of it. Apparently, it was rare, that rare, that the world wasn’t interested and that included the pharmaceutical industry. There are no drugs that are out there, not even the ones designed for MS patients that will ever help me with any of it other than the pain. Both of us, were in a world of discovery as my body was only going to respond if it suited it, not because it worked for others. In the first five years, I was changing drug after drug searching for the ones that would work the best. Then I called a halt to it. I worked out a hit and miss list, I ditched all the meds that didn’t work for me, regardless what my doctors said, and I kept the ones that I could live with. That was my first rule, “It had to work for me”.

That decision was closely followed by the one that said, “Can I live with this symptom, or do I need help”. It is so easy to run to our doctors every time that something happens that is different. Just because it is something that the average person would find terrifying, doesn’t mean it is something to be terrified by. My test mark is to say, “Is this symptom impairing my life”. This tremor or probably more accurately, this quiver, doesn’t stop me doing anything. It slows me down, but it doesn’t actually stop me doing things, therefore, I don’t need a doctor, and I don’t need medication for it. In fact, the only time I really turn to my doctor is when I am in pain. If it hadn’t been for the pain my intercostal muscles and diaphragm were causing me, I wouldn’t have been diagnosed with COPD when I was. Not being able to breathe was something I had grown used to, not being able to breathe and being in pain, was something I didn’t like at all.

The medications that I do take, I don’t know if they work for anyone else, or have even been tested on animals, but they have been tested on me. My small selection that I am on now, may not be the standard for MS, but they work for me and that is what matters. People ask me all the time if I have been on this drug or that one. Partly, because of my bad memory, I’m not always able to say, but I always question, why they are asking me, and are not testing them on themselves. Yes, I have a rare condition that is known not to respond as others do, but I honestly believe whatever our condition, the only way to find out if it’s going to help us, isn’t to read about it, or talk to others about it, it is quite simply to try it, and to remember, you can come off it again as easily as you started it. Our doctors can only advise us and suggest what they think will help. Unless they happen to share your condition, they won’t have tried it personally, and don’t even assume they have prescribed it to anyone else either, remember, all forms of MS are reasonable rare. After many years of practice, when my GP read my diagnosis, he told me I was the first person ever on his books to have the condition. Most of the time, our doctors are offering us a drug they know nothing about, other than what they have read. If it doesn’t work for you, well they always seem to have another one to offer, if you truly believe you really need it.

All of us have different body chemistries and every drug will work slightly differently for almost all of us. Hence those stupid lists of “possible side effects”, so many people miss that word “possible” and assume they will get them all. To date, I have only been aware of a handful of drugs that have ever caused me any issues, and they were really not worth mentioning.

Please read my blog from 2 years ago today – 15/05/2014 – Look to the future

On Saturday I watched a program about the relief of Bergen-Belsen, world war 2 has been a subject that since I became housebound I have found out so much about that at school for some reason they hid from us. It started simply because I can’t stand the drivel that streams out of the both the BBC and ITV every morning, I have to say I was really disappointed to find that in all the years I hadn’t been able to see the morning offering, that nothing had changed. I honestly don’t know who they aim the programming at at that time of day, but it isn’t for me that is for sure. So I started channel surfing, I was searching for documentaries about almost anything that might have just a little more body about it, it was the history channels that I found myself……

One last time

Posted on March 29, 2016 by livinginalimitedword

At the minute, I feel as though all I am doing is complaining about one thing or another. Which honestly isn’t the normal me. It’s just at the minute my body has switched into hyper drive and takes great pleasure in confronting me daily with some issue or another. I honestly don’t know when I last had a day, where I can say my life has been normal. It has been a slow ratcheting up process and I know where it all started, as the base problem is with me every single day. The pain and discomfort in my abdomen was and still is the start point of every day. I haven’t been free of it now for over three years, but it was livable before, now it consumes my whole day. I am constantly shifting trying to find a way of shifting the pain areas or relieving the discomfort. The third batch of tablets that my GP prescribed have reduced the spasms dramatically, but the spasms are only part of the problem. It is the constant pressure and feeling as though one area or another is about to burst, that really gets to me. Once again last night, just before midnight I woke ready to throw up, but through a process of relaxation and breathing, I managed not to. I don’t know what it is about that point of the night, but every time I have thrown up, or been close to it, has always been just before midnight, eight hours after I last ate. Luckily this morning, I went to the loo, so it has reduced the pressure slightly, as always, what I passed was normal and it’s transit painless.

It goes without saying, that when you have problems like that with your intestine, you are going to have issues with your bladder. It’s either pressure that keeps you running, or blocks all real flow. The antispasmodic drugs mean I am having, even more, problems emptying it. I know I should just give in and use a catheter but as long as I can manage I will. I’m not getting any messages that it needs emptying and when I do, well it dribbles, flow, stop, dribble a bit more, stop then gush and so on. I am wasting more time in the bathroom these days than I care to think about, even more, in the energy draining trips required to get me there and back.

It would be bad enough if it were just my lower abdomen, but as always when one thing is upset, it upsets others. From my written history, it’s easy to know that it always upsets my breathing as well. The constant pressure from my stomach causes both diaphragm and intercostal spasms. My PRMS already causes me enough daily issues with the entire mechanism of breathing, without added extras. I had until a couple of weeks ago been really quite happy with my lungs. They weren’t perfect and I know they never will be, but I was content. Now I have sporadic pains appearing throughout my lung cavities, as muscles within them respond to the constant compression, all of which means that my oxygen levels are all over the place. At times, there is no doubt, that that is what is behind the lightheaded almost drunk sensation, but not at others. It is a feeling beyond a need to sleep, it is almost a desperation that is too hard to fight, but I do, especially in the evenings, as those hours are my highlight, the time I won’t let my health get in the way of.

As all of us know who have MS, if there is something going on in our bodies, whatever the source, it triggers our screwed up nerves. Thanks to the pain, the pressure, the difficulty breathing and anything else you can think of, my entire body is permanently alive with warped sensations. Every nerve seems to be alive and transmitting back whatever it chooses to at that second. Most of the time, it is nothing more than a gentle buzzing sensation, which shifts around my body, area to area. Frequently, it will simply consume me, holding me in a bubble of frenzied activity, then die away again, returning to simply passing the message to its neighbour, before resting a while and waiting to once more join in. That doesn’t sound like much, but when it’s constant, when the only peace that you can find from it, is when it is replaced by another bizarre sensation, or you attention is grabbed by something happening somewhere else in your body, it drains you. It also appears to me, to be behind another annoying symptom, the tremors. Frequently I have found that when the buzzing sensation becomes intense the muscle responds by twitching and jumping. They become hesitant in their actions and miss fire extravagantly, possibly amusing to others, but annoying to anyone who has to live with it.

I’ve been through all of this time after time, after time. All of these symptoms I know well individually, but when it turns into this clamour of activities, well it always comes down to my intestine. I know that if I could just get it to settle down, to return to its norm of odd spells of pains and discomfort, then that the rest will settle down too, but nothing is working. I quite simply don’t know what to do. How can an intestine that isn’t constipated, or actually even if it was, cause so much trouble? I’m waiting for what will be my third round of seeing a consultant. So far, not one has fixed it, one helped a lot by removing my constipation, but this pain has gone on for far too long. I don’t know what the answer is, but there has to be one, but until I see the consultant again, I promise not to complain and moan about what my stomach is doing to me. Well, not unless that damed pressure actually explodes.

Please read my blog from 2 years ago today – 29/03/2014 – Time together

For the second night in a row, I went to bed early and I slept like a log, normality for me as It only takes my head to touch the pillow and I know nothing until the alarm sounds. I count myself as so lucky that sleep is my peaceful escape from everything, yet I can’t help equally to curse it for taking so much of my life from me, so many hours wasted and gone, without the slightest memory of even one. I know I must dream, but for me it has always been the case that I just don’t remember them unless something really odd happens. My hours of sleep are like someone just switching me off, then eventually on again many hours later. It doesn’t matter how many times I tell myself that my body needs that sleep, going from a person who used to sleep……

I can dream

Posted on February 8, 2016 by livinginalimitedword

I woke this morning with pain off the scale in my back and my upper legs. I know that it’s going to take a few days, by yesterday I made a decision to try and relieve whatever is going on inside me. I was forced into upping the dose of Psyllium as the quantity I have been taking for the last couple of years, just wasn’t working. Years ago, I was told that I had IBS, because, I was complaining about the pain, but following tests at the hospital, it turned out that I don’t. The consultant said he could understand the first diagnosis, as, many people these days think that that is what they have. In my case, it is yet another thing that is down to my PRMS. All forms of MS can cause problems with nerves where ever they are. Mine have caused all the muscles responsible for the transit of food, to simply not have the strength to do the job properly. My problem wasn’t due to lack of fiber either, as the bulk of everything I eat, is high on the fiber scale. It would make no difference what was in my diet, I was always going to have problems. He suggested the Psyllium, something he actually says everyone should have daily and forget “the rubbish of the 5 a day, the government promotes” his words, not mine, as it is far more effective. It does two things, firstly, it is a bulker. I may eat well, but I don’t eat a lot, the Psyllium would make up for that problem and create the bulk needed to help move everything through me. Secondly, it has a slimy quality, the reason I make it into pancakes, drinking it, is impossible, I don’t care what anyone says. The new dose did the trick when it came to getting things moving again, but the pain has been ridiculous.

I have come to the conclusion, that the double dose, is forming a huge bulked up lump, that my muscles are finding just too difficult to shift. They’re doing it, but slowly and with a lot of complaining. Yesterday, I took my huge pancake and cut it in halves, to be eaten morning and late afternoon. With my ultra slow transit, it means that I have several days worth to still get rid of, hence the pain. Being overloaded, put pressure on my spine and all my internal organs, including my lungs. From where the worst of the pain was, I knew that it was probably going to be another 48 hrs before I would next go to the loo, and I just couldn’t bear that. Taking a laxative, would do only one thing to me, cause hour after hour of increased spasms that might, but usually, don’t help at all. Once more, I had no choice but to try a suppository. As much as I don’t like them, they are far more controlled and act far faster. Yes, they cause more spasms, I do realise that, but at worst, the spasms they cause will last no more than an hour. It took 25 minutes, and it caused me some huge spikes in pain, but it worked. Now, at least, I have some hope that I have created space for the rest to move on. About an hour ago, I gave up and took one of my Morphine boosters so I’m not perfect, but neither am I still cringing every few seconds. At best, I expect this to settle over the next 4 days, at worst, it could take a week. It’s one of the oddities of my life, that just having a backed up intestine, that I can do nothing about, it means I have problems standing, lying down and breathing.

It took me months to get my head around the whole thing, as when it first went off the scale, a couple of years ago now, I honestly thought I was dying. Of all the things my PRMS does to me, it honestly is one of the things that I find the hardest to deal with. Between the so-called “MS Hug”, spasms in my diaphragm being made worse due to the pressure from below, and the restricted space caused by that pressure, meaning less space for much-needed air to fill, death seemed to be the next logical step. Apparently, it’s a 50/50 split, as to whether it will be my COPD or my PRMS that will squeeze that last breath out of me. Trust me, I would love to have straight forward IBS or constipation any day. Over the last couple of months, I have been having growing problems, hence, my desition to double the dose. I did last month add in half as much again from the original dose, but it did little to nothing. Sometimes it feels as though my life has become one long experiment. I get one thing sorted out, and something else falls apart, and I am back trying to find what I need to do, just to be comfortable enough to go on. I suppose that is one of the reasons that our doctors fail totally when it comes to helping us to live. How do you treating something that is never totally the same, from one day to the next?

When it gets me as badly as it has at the moment, I spend a lot of my day just checking my oxygen levels. It is one of those things that is easy to know when it’s wrong, but hard to treat. I have all the normal inhalers which, at times, I grab and use, but most of the time, they do nothing. As yet, they haven’t invented an inhaler that deals with spasms. At best, they help with the COPD side of things, but if it’s not my COPD causing the worst of it, all I can do is keep watching those numbers fall. I know that the doctors are simply trying to give me a fighting chance, with all the drugs that I take for my lungs. If they are as good as they can make them, will maybe, just maybe, I can keep breathing. I knew on my second visit to the chest clinic that they were a bit lost as to how to help me, and that other than the consultant, not one of them had seen anyone like me before. They are used to dealing with lung conditions, my problem is the mechanical system, not the lungs themselves. If they were in a normal body, well yes, they’re not the best, but they’re a long way from done.

I have had this dream now for years, that something new will appear and that after they have done all their horrid tests, that they will turn around and say, “Well this is really simple, one little operation and it’ll be fixed”. Mind you, I doubt there is a surgeon out there, who would want to operate on someone like me, but I guess, I can always dream.

Please read my blog from 2 years ago today – 07/02/2014 – Protection through love

I’ve been reading snippets from previous posts and my feeling that my ribs and diaphragm are playing up more seems to be true, not that that helps really in making them better, but it makes me feel better, as I KNOW I am……

Odd only gets odder

Posted on January 5, 2016 by livinginalimitedword

I woke feeling as though I was sharing the same death as King Edward II. Getting out of bed was total agony, but I had no other choice, clearly, my body was demanding, that I moved as fast as I could. I was in so much pain, that for a second, I hesitated as to if I had enough time to put on my dressing-gown, or if I just had to chance it. The time caught my eye, 10:22 pm, I had only been asleep for less than an hour and a half, it made no sense, but little had in the previous 6 hours, why on earth would this either. 10:22, Adam was clearly going to still be up, so time or not, the dressing-gown had to be put on. I don’t think, that Adam has seen me naked at all in the past 10 years, I won’t let him these days, as my body is such mess after years of illness. Last night, proved just how deep my embarrassment goes, as there was no logical reason to extend my pain for even a second. Once covered all I had to do, was to get out of the bedroom, that was when I woke up, enough, to start questioning the pain and what was causing it. The second my backside touched the cushion on my wheelchair, I found myself holding my breath and unable to let my entire weight settle on it, but there really wasn’t a choice, I had to get to that bathroom and now. Once settled, I reached out in front of me as far as I could, I managed to just touching my spare dressing gown that hangs on the back of the bedroom door, I grasped it, then pulled and the door swung open. A simple trick, but one that saves so much time, as I then have a clear path to escape by, rather than having to perform three point turns, around the base of the bed.

I couldn’t believe it, not only was Adam up, but he was in the bathroom. I had no choice, I had to call out to him and find out when he could vacate the room. Luckily, he wasn’t as I thought in the shower, he was cleaning the room and soon left when I explained my predicament, but only after moving things, that didn’t need moving across the floor. I think he could see my growing distress, so he rushed past me and let me in. Relief was only a moment away, or rather, it wasn’t. There was nothing there, my lower bowel was empty, which made no sense at all. It didn’t make sense, there had to be, so I took a chance and landed up putting myself through pain, I can’t even describe, but there was nothing, but more pain. There was no doubt what so ever, I didn’t need to empty my bowels. It was only then that I could locate the pain as slightly, by maybe half an inch too far back, to be what I thought. It was a spasm from hell and all my efforts were just making it worse. My desire to return to my wheelchair was getting lower by the second, as there was a certain relief, just sitting with the affected area, in mid-air, but with Adam up, and waiting to get back to his night time chores, I had no choice. I couldn’t even enjoy the cigarette that I lit when I reached the kitchen. There was no comfort, stood, sat or in any position I could create and some of them were rather odd, but, worth a try.

All of this started in the afternoon. I had been making a batch of psyllium pancakes, as I had totally run out, so tired or not, it had to be done. With the first dozen cooked, I had to ask Adam to take over. I can’t actually put it into words just how I felt, even at the time, all I could say was that I felt wrong and I clearly looked it, as from that point, until bedtime, Adam checked every few minutes. It wasn’t as though it was one given area, it was odd things all over me. My stomach was a mess, I knew that as it was producing its all time favourite, pressure on my diaphragm, and that too was tight and making things more difficult, but that wasn’t it all. Almost every muscle felt odd, there was a body-wide and brain filling oddness. All the small things that had ever turned up with any previous oddness, had all arrived at once. I couldn’t swallow with ease my own saliva, but I could swallow a drink without any problems. My throat kept locking, and getting confused between breathing, talking and eating, all the muscles, were moving at the wrong time. It felt as though every extreme symptom I had ever had, were queueing up to take a pop at me. My arms and legs were weak, somewhat rubbery in feel, but as heavy as lead. I had no wish or inclination to do anything and swithered over going to bed, but although physically exhausted, I wasn’t what you’d call tired. My bladder control went wrong around 5ish and I landed up haveing to clean myself down and get changed, none of which was made easy, as my only other clothes were still in the dryer. I know all to well, that once my bladder has failed once, it can and often does, do it again, so I then had a fear of moving, which just added in an extra pressure to how I already felt.8 pm was another clear display of oddness. It was time to take my meds, but I couldn’t. Not because of issues with supply, I quite simply couldn’t swallow them, they just kept getting stuck. I’d get it back up, swallow again and drink like mad, to try and clear it. I thought they were gone and I actually sat and waited to be sure, before going to clean my teeth. As I twisted and reached into the cabinet for the toothpaste, five tablets appeared in my mouth. I didn’t burp or anything like that, it was the way I twisted my neck that brought them back up from the spot where they like to sit. We don’t keep a glass in the bathroom, so I had to once more call for assistance from Adam, which sent him off on another worry line, as to would they just appear again once I had gone to bed. It has happened once in the past, but that one is off the scale of oddness. I was told years ago that I have a pocket in the side of my throat, it’s called an Esophageal pouches. Another one of my oddities, as it’s mainly elderly men that have them, but I’ve had mine for several years now. Most of the time, it doesn’t bother me, but when it starts playing up like this, well it normally keeps it up for quite a while, before it settles down again. I don’t know if I’m talking rubbish, but I think it gets stretched every now and then, and once opened up further than normal, it takes

8 pm was another clear display of oddness. It was time to take my meds, but I couldn’t. Not because of issues with supply, I quite simply couldn’t swallow them, they just kept getting stuck. I’d get it back up, swallow again and drink like mad, to try and clear it, then up it would come again. I thought they were gone and I actually sat and waited to be sure, before going to clean my teeth. As I twisted and reached into the cabinet for the toothpaste, five tablets appeared in my mouth. I didn’t burp or anything like that, I think it was just the way I twisted my neck that brought them back up from the spot where they like to sit. We don’t keep a glass in the bathroom, so I had to once more call for assistance from Adam, which sent him off on another worry line, as to would they just appear again once I had gone to bed. It has happened once in the past, but that one is off the scale of oddness. I was told years ago that I have a pocket in the side of my throat, it’s called an Esophageal pouches. Another one of my oddities, as it’s mainly elderly men that have them, but I’ve had mine for several years now. Most of the time, it doesn’t bother me, but when it starts playing up like this, well it normally keeps it up for quite a while, before it settles down again. I don’t know if I’m talking rubbish, but I think it gets stretched every now and then, and once opened up further than normal, it takes time to settle back again. Last night with everything else, it was just not needed.

The pain that I woke up with, probably, wouldn’t have sent me running to the loo if it hadn’t been for the problems my stomach was displaying earlier. If I had been awake, I might have recognised it for what it was, a spasm. I’ve never had one in that position, a few inches further forwards between my legs, yes, but that far back, never. Just like last nights one, they are a bit like someone grabbing hold of you with a large pair of blacksmiths Nipping-Pliers, then twisting then, just for the fun of it. I have learnt several tricks for dealing with those. The most effective is to make a tight roll from a towel, place it between your legs, and sit on anything that will help to apply pressure, such as the arm of a chair. But nothing was helping at all last night. Last night, I resorted to Morphine and relaxation, slowly relief appeared as did eventually sleep. Today, I feel better, but sitting is still a tentative process. Even once achieved, the shadow pain is a huge comfort issue. On the good side, I feel better, not great, but better and I don’t suppose, I can ask much more than that.

Oh! Just in case, you didn’t quite get the opening line of this post, well we don’t own a poker, nor a real fire to have heated it on. Not to mention, I hope I have never upset anyone baddly enough to have someone wishing to insert one into me. If, you still don’t get it, try Google 🙂

Please read my blog from 2 years ago today – 05/01/2014 – No embellishment, just me

There are days where I spend time just sitting reading back comments from previous posts, often they trigger something that I then want to write about or answer within another post, so in that respect I find…..