Another Sunday unlike other Sundays
A bad week. Physically and mentally. Not touched my keyboard for days. BCC recurring again. Will it never end? Safely! One site cut out and 13 stitches to repair it, on my face. Low and lower goes my mood. Objective ME spies the fall and a nurse spied it too. My GP 'listens,' and we make a good team to find answers for me, while ME looks on. A long list could follow, but I shall ignore my rule to be brutally honest in here. If I concentrate on a couple of problems, the others fade into the background. Spine and leg are impacting on each other. Even more disabled in what I can do than before. 'Apnoea' may be the cause of certain bastardly feelings. I'm to be tested by experts. 'Bipolar' may be the cause of many 'unfeelings' and 'feelings.' Balance is required at all times now, mentally and emotionally and motivationally. Just a touch too much sends everything crashing, mentally, emotionally and motivationally. The Public Mask is getting heavy. Too heavy in the Surgery, and thankfully the nurse saw it; instant referral to my doc. I can't bounce back because I've fallen flat already and in order to bounce, one has to be in motion to begin with. Imagine a pancake laying on the carpet. That's me while ME looks on, thankfully. If I lose ME, I'm in real trouble. Keeping objective is paramount right now. There's the Public me, the broken me, and the watchful ME. I'm tired.
Sunday evening
How strange that muscles twitch involuntarily
Unbidden and yet full of meanings
Spasms of empathy for the pain within
Carrying me along behind my mask
Leaking quietly of that which is me.
Sunday being a week later
EPP discussion concerning Wills, Living Wills and how to ensure that our personal wishes are complied with. One of the group fears that a very close relative will not follow the request that has been made. Although not legally binding yet, the future has total legality in the offing and peace of mind for those who declare their last requests.
The current situation can be helped by giving copies of a Living Will to each family member, a solicitor, our family doctor, and explaining to each person that the copy is given to, that this is what is required, as of now. The Living Will can be altered, scrapped or added to and amended, at any time in the future.
Dementia happens. Comas happen. Shit happens. Therefore, it is a matter of common sense to inform all around us, of what we want to happen.
Have you, who reads this, looked over the edge into the abyss? Have you fully understood that you will die. That one second, you will be alive, but in the next second be dead. Have you looked at how tiny, small and insignificant your span of life is? The Earth has existed for billions of years. It will exist for many more billions of years. Once it ceases to exist, the rest of the Universe will continue to exist. Have a think of how short your life is, by comparison to the eternity that will follow your death. Your time will be as less than one millionth of the blink of an eye.
My Donor card is with me. (I can help some other poor sod at least) My ashes will be scattered on the Ganges at Varanasi. My wife will then make the most of her time in India. The living must live. Celebrate me and move on. I will be with old friends, smiling. Merged and merging.
Sunday again
A friend is not well and I worry. We met once. We write often. The freedom to be honest and open with the friend is liberating. Trust is earned and reciprocated. I am happy to find so trusting and trustworthy a fellow human being. We each have our physical failings. I care not that my friend reads this. My friend knows how much respect I have. This is a few words from me to me to sort out my disheveled mind. I could write a list of my blessings. I write enough lists to order my days. This is my place to write out my feelings. I have no wish to argue my views or discuss others' ideas. I want to write what I feel, but without any hypocrisy. Time is a great healer; it got rid of Ghengis Khan, Attila the Hun, Adolph Hitler, and one day it will get rid of us. How can mortal man grasp the concept of eternity? One second I am alive, the next second I become part of eternity. We all do. The nettle that is our future is beyond my grasp.
And so, back to my friend. Knowing I can share the anguish and trepidation of another, makes me humble and privileged. For that alone, I give thanks.
Sunday
I asked my son to help me to get a proper Link to appear on the right of my blog and at last I can send readers to Tom's website. The process to provide the Link left me floundering. It's all a strange language to me with symbols and dashes and hyphens etc. Anyway, it's done now, so have a click on the Link and enjoy a good read. I was fortunate enough to be asked by Tom to supply some of my 'words,' and he was gentle enough to accept them.
Discussions on a Forum concerning bipolar issues have drawn me back to a thread I have avoided. The Mind is a delicate flower, which needs care and a lightest of touches. We are all living in a dream, where reality impinges from time to time. Plato and Aristotle play games in my head for weeks at a time. Are those shadows on the wall or a hint at pre-existence? If I'm moved, who or what moved me? Can I be a prime-mover? Would I desire it? Is the thought I hear as I type this sentence, the culmination of 4 billion years of evolution from a single wet cell in a sea of minerals? I think not. Am I really the end product of so much time and life? Does it stop with me? My offspring exist in their own right. We gave them bodies to live in. We didn't give them our minds as well. Flesh, blood, genes, characteristics of form and substance came from us, but their minds? Whose voice do they hear when they type on their keyboards?
