Category: Personal

Is It Me Being Self Important?

~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

At the moment the wife is checking though the forest of paperwork for tomorrow’s putative appointment. I asked her opinion, “do you really think it is worth getting it all together and going down to the hospital tomorrow?” It has taken me well over half an hour. There are a lot of test results.

This is the kind of doubt sown by unilateral cancellation without communication. There is in my mind a significant chance we will be back here soon. We will not be having a full fun hospital themed day out. It is just over an hour round trip.

Viewed from one angle I can see that things must conform to how they are supposed to be. In my view it would have been decent to have saved me the trip on Monday. I am not yet fully telepathic.

There is a saying about buses that you wait for a bus for ages and then three come along all at once. I have had two appointments cancelled already this week…am I jinxing it again?

Is it me being self-important or do some people need to brush up on their interpersonal skills, their consideration for others?

The jury is out. It is probably me… it usually is…it is always all my fault.

The bottom line is that it does not really matter to anyone but me if I tip up or not. Nobody has rung to confirm. Is that my job? Someone else could easily take my slot…I am sure there are many people in need.

It is a weird feeling…there is a planning blight now hanging over…this need not have happened…

We shall see what transpires…

Real-Life Problems and Decisions

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Until around 10:20 this morning I felt that most of “my” real world things were in hand. The preparation had been going smoothly though I did wonder about using the word “awry” the other day.

As I lay in bed before the alarm was due to go off, I thought that the only real problem I had was to put my underpants on the right way round when getting dressed in darkness. Later in the day some young person would ask me to strip to my pants and take X-rays of my spastic hip. We did not want to have a “professor pants” moment. I did not want unknowingly to advertise M&S.

As it turned out I could have put them on inside out with full impunity. It is a missed pants opportunity.

Now because of the unilateral and unnotified cancellation of an appointment a few more decisions arise. There is another early appointment for a full day of hospital based fun later in the week.

Do we need to telephone to confirm if it is still going ahead?

Do we do this the night before or call a little after 8AM before we leave the house the morning of the alleged appointment?

An ancillary line of thought is do I need to start exploring other contingencies for a hip operation in case this one falls through?.

I understand only too well that the universe does not owe me anything, that I have no “right” to surgery. It is at the kindness of the French exchequer. I do not believe in “deserving”. When I tried to get this sorted earlier in the year I met with many problems. Perhaps some more are starting now.

Is this the universe saying that I simply need to suck it up? That it is my karma to suffer from arthritis?

Or is this about patience and forbearance?

It looks like the whole of France is going into a another self-induced psychiatric meltdown. So who knows what is going to happen…They can lose the plot and badly so…They have volatility…

To me it is important to remain grounded especially with all these fancy highfalutin dreams…

Life here is pretty mundane; some would find it boring. Ideas notions and dreams are not the same thing as getting measured for some anti-thrombosis stockings like I just did.

I have learned by experiment that as a whole French timekeeping is loose and that an appointment is often written in the lightest of 4H pencil. I tend to take appointments as possibilities and not reliable fact.

I have another data point, milord.

All in all not a very satisfactory start to the day or the week…

Medical Merry-go-round  etc.

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This morning I have had my pre-operative blood {oil level} check. As a part of this I will have a full blood group determination done. In case I need a transfusion. Despite having had a number of surgeries I do not know my blood group, aged 61. I could get a surprise tomorrow.

My mother was AB negative and my father was O type. Which means that I should come back A or B. AB negative is rare ~1%, my mum would have had to have shagged someone of a non O type of blood for me to come back AB too. If I come back O I have been swapped at birth. Something I have long suspected. 😉

This has the potential to alter my perception, a weird kind of lottery.

The amount of medical administration we have been doing is large. I have a preoperative X-ray and a day of appointments with physio, anaesthetist etc. next week. I’ll even get a tooth fitted to my titanium jaw implant. If I take bis-phosphonates for osteoporosis I can’t get any more tooth or hip implants. After the hip op I will have two bionic hips so the osteoporosis hip-fracture risk is low. Titanium does not break easily. The bis-phosphonates are likely to be delayed.

Hip op sounds a bit like hip hop.

I think I am mentally ready for the surgery. It will be around six months before they do the second joint. It might be strange being able to tie shoelaces and put socks on unaided. There will be a weird in-between. I can’t wait for the sexy anti-clot stockings and daily heparin jabs. They prescribe laxatives to go with the morphine.

Piss holes in the snow pin hole pupils are on the cards.

I should be out of the opium den by Christmas.

There are a few “must dos” left before the blade. But most is in hand.

Here there is a bit of last minute.com flurry mentality, there must be hectic dramas it seems. Place back of hand on forehead and swoon. We have tried to buck this trend and get things done in a more leisurely planned and timed manner. Of course there could always be that last minute spanner, but I hope we have built in time to flex and not rush about like a March hare on amphetamines.

But as we all know the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry. There are only so many contingencies which make sense…

We will know what at-home adjustments need put in place after the appointment next week…This gives us time to execute.

I am curious to see what the outcome will be.  I have a good idea about the pain etc. because of the prior hip fracture repair. My guess is that the healing will be easier. I had to wait three days immobile to get the pin fitted in my hip which can’t have been good for prognosis.

We shall see…it will be what it will be…

It’s not quite a Jaguar

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–

I’ve been driving in my car

It’s not quite a Jaguar

I bought it in Primrose Hill

From a bloke from Brazil

It was made in fifty-nine

In a factory by the Tyne

–

It’s a bit old but it’s mine

I mend it in my spare time

Just last week I changed the oil

The rocker valves and the coil

–

Last week it went ’round the clock

I also had a little knock

–

Madness

————————————————————————

I have had my ultrasound and ECG “stress” test and I am now crock for the rest of the day. I managed to get my heart rate up to 86% of the theoretical maximum for my age pushing a bike load of 130 Watts. I could not sustain it for long.

The ST segment did not show further depression below the isoelectric line suggesting that the blood supply to my left ventricle is not yet compromised. The doctor had no explanation for why the ST segment was depressed. He did not seem worried and so there is no show stopper for the fitting of a bionic hip.

I have not had my heart rate up like that during exercise for a long time. I am probably unfit but I will guess that I am not as unfit as other 100kg men made in ‘64 of my height. Especially those from Newcastle.

They still think I am a fat bastard though.

I have an exercise burn in my quadriceps which is a bit of a novelty. They have shaved my chest a bit for the electrodes…

The Peugeot 207 also clocked earlier this week it now has ~100,040 miles….

Not quite ready for the scrap heap yet…its seems.

No! I do not want to download your effing app!

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I have been pondering a notion, a question. It is this, “is it enlightenment or old age?”

Many of the things that people seem bothered about such as ‘phones, clothing, hairstyle, general appearance, apps, shagging, ‘phones, career advancement, kudos and internet fwiends don’t hold any fascination for me.

Now is this because of all my meditation that I have seen them to be impermanent and thereby illusory?

Or is it that just like any old git, I have experimental life evidence that these things ain’t all that?

Buggered if I know…

Recently I have been on the receiving end of my first bit of internet banking fraud. I do not use open networks in public spaces, nor do I visit and pay at dodgy web sites. Nevertheless some bastard has been able to pay for Uber in Amsterdam and Food Panda in Karachi of all places.

Given the location here in the wilds of Brittany I doubt anyone has had a bank card reader on an auto bank. There is just not enough footfall.

The signal from our Wi-Fi router does not reach off the property and unless someone has spliced into the fibre optic cable our internet has the low-level security of distance and isolation. We do not “surf” in public nor at Byron Bay. Of course some “actor” with skill could access our traffic. Because it is boring and not commercial I doubt anyone can be properly arsed. I haven’t yet fitted quantum key encryption.

There has been a data breach somewhere else…

We tend not to answer the ‘phone. Any attempt at ‘phone coercions would be met with English and not French. Random callers are ignored. If a French  ‘phone scammer was able to persuade me in English, they would have probably earned a few quid. I used to keep the Jehovah’s Witnesses busy for hours discussing comparative theology and world philosophy. With a smile. They even used to “blood” new recruits because they knew I had no ill will.

The bank have replaced my card but set its ability to purchase on line to zero euros as a safety measure. For some reason they want me to use the mobile app to put this right. I only turn on my mobile when I am going out to the physio or the shops alone. A battery charge usually last several months! So why would I want to use a mobile app?

This seems to be the answer for everything  down load our mobile app tear you hair out and have a myocardial infarction…

OK as a ’64 child I am still technically a boomer. But hey I used the internet back in the mid-late eighties.

In the hitchhiker’s guide the answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything is obviously download our mobile app…

Obvs…

Simple…

No! I do not want to download your effing app!!

Clearly, I have just answered my own question. I must be an enlightened being because I no longer salaciously obsess about juicy smartphone apps.

There is no need to reincarnate to feed off/at the Google and Apple stores.

Final liberation is mine. I am a free being…

Limelight and Gangsters – Night

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This morning the Guardian has a photo-essay on the Limelight Club in the 1980s. It was an “it” club for a while with lots of famous London scene people.

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–

I used to work at a night club just of Oxford Street in the mid-eighties. Sometimes as many as three or four nights a week as a barman. I used start at 8 PM to set up the bar and get hone for 5 AM get a few hours’ sleep and during the week be back in The Royal Institution for coffee at 10 to do science. The club closed at 3:30 AM.

How I managed to get a Ph.D. remains a bit of a mystery…

It was on these early morning walks back from the night bus stop home when I knew beyond doubt that my time of day is the pre-dawn and dawn. London viewed from Kingsbury / Wembley in the summer, as it wakes up, it quite quiet special. The mental space is near silent and it is just fantastic.

I was a regular after the club closed at various fast food stalls near Oxford Street tube. On first name terms. Travelling home in my barman’s black and whites I use to often have females sitting next to me on the night bus for safety. I was not as pissed out of my skull as some of the other passengers. I was awake because of my Soul fate. I often had a few dabs to keep going.

Once a month one of the clubs would host a staff club night. These were free and only for other nightclub staff with reduced bar prices. They would start at 4 AM and go onto around  7. The DJ at the Limelight had an in depth selection of rare jazz funk and mellow soul groove. He would play it for us the discerning who needed a break from the stuff they had listened to all night. When it was the Limelight’s turn to host it was my favourite.

Because I spoke “posh” whenever the nightclub owners (possibly gangsters) came visit our club the manager would hold court one end of the bar. Only I was allowed to serve them. There was a cupboard with top notch classy booze only for VIPs. I was allowed to talk with them too. The others were kept at a distance. After I left the manger told me that if I ever needed a job to get back to him.

Seems not so long ago…

What is on the Dance Card?

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Next week returns us both to the medical merry-go-round. The wife is getting the results of her post breast cancer full genetic work up and I am having a preoperative stress echocardiogram because there was an anomaly with the ST section in my ECG trace. This could be due to ischemia or larger than usual size and ageing. When you look in Pandora’s box you never know what you will find. Our understanding of where we stand could change. The results for me might influence the go/no go for the hip replacement surgery. There may/may not be something wrong with my ticker.

In about a month’s time I have a full blood work up at which I will finally find out my blood group. I will get to meet the anaesthetist, the physio and a dietician. The latter no doubt will imply that I am a fat bastard. Explaining to French people that you do not eat vast amounts of charcuterie, cheese, fish and shellfish is not facile. They do not get it. The don’t do, vindaloo. They will want me to lose weight. I am currently a nice round 100kg. When I bust my hip I dropped below 85kg.

The notion of downscaling house is still on the cards and chronic. We need to do it. What we don’t know is how crippled I will be post operation(s). This feeds into the bungalow or single floor flat versus house decision. Currently single floor is favourite.

After watching the NF/BNP march in London yesterday I wonder why did Blair Peach die. Maybe it is time to reboot the anti nazi league.

–

–

Come back to blighty.. really ….. hmmnnn…

So far I have written up 77 dreams this year. There are others I can’t be arsed with. The dream length of late is heading past 1000 words. Why I am dreaming about AI I do not know. I do not use it nor know anything about it. I hate prompts to use bloody copilot.

I also have had numerous pseudo-technical or pseudo-scientific dreams. I do not mix in the kind of circles where I might discuss these nor chase them up. I don’t have to write research grant proposals or come up with ideas. The only person outside medical and this house I speak with is the ex-farmer who helps out in the garden. He does not care about quantum.

There are also Tibetan and Toltec dreaming themes. Again I do not move in circles where these might be in any way applicable. There is a part of me which mildly dreads going to bed. It means an hour in the morning typing up dreams.

The basic notion is visit UK see how it feels. Get bionic hip fitted – recover over winter. Maybe put house on market. Decide UK or France. Move. Or wait, get second bionic hip fitted, recover, put house on market, move. I looked at property in Erice Sicily yesterday.

Our right to remain expires end of March 2026. Probably there is no problem with renewal. Depending on the vagaries of French politics we could be much less welcome. The decision for the second hip is timed for around spring 2026. We too could become unwelcome immigrants.

All this flag waving marching creates fear and uncertainty. Seig heil…

There are a lot of things in the garden that I am going to have to let slip. Maybe in January I might be able to turn my hand to them.

I have a couple more months of increasingly painful / useless right hip on the cards. I need to only stand for an hour or so a day which limits what is possible. I can still do brief DIY painting and cooking and using the strimmer.

We will have a little more info by next Saturday…

And the painted ponies go up and down…

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———————————-

So the years spin by and now the boy is twenty
Though his dreams have lost some grandeur coming true
There’ll be new dreams, maybe better dreams and plenty
Before the last revolving year is through
And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We’re captive on the carousel of time
We can’t return, we can only look behind
From where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game

Joni Mitchell

——————————–

Today started with sorting through my now extensive medical records for the next phase of the upcoming medical-merry-go-round. By the end of the calendar year I will probably hit ~100 appointments. I am already past 60 RDVs. That is shed loads.

I have had more x-rays and MRI scans than your average person. I am due a few more. Next on the dance card are rheumatology, cardio stress test ultrasound and urology prostate specific antigen follow up. This to be followed by a pre-operative meeting with the anaesthesiologist, dietician and physiotherapist. They will probably say {politely} that I am a fat bastard. To which I might reply that I could start to smoke and drink heavily again so that I can get back to my former heroin chic. I could always knock up some crystal meth in the shed, that is an appetite suppressor.

It is difficult to know what difference a new hip might make. According to the hype it might be a game changer. They are not talking about the second one yet, which will be more complicated. It could offer a new lease of life. I doubt I will be down the mosh pit any time soon.

It is a kind of in between feeling. Something is impending, it is a couple of months away and there is a while away of time in the meantime. We have just received our “poll tax” bill for the year which might be the last or it might not. There are a number of jobs undone in the garden which I may be able to turn my hand to in January.

On the dreaming front there have been plenty. Recurring themes recur. None of which I am in a position to really do much about. There is no indication of an ongoing fate. Dreams of putative past lives might be interesting and jig saw puzzle pieces, to help synthesise a whole. But they do not show an ongoing fate, a path or direction left remaining for me to do.

I remain aware that “my” whole world is subject to sudden unexpected pivot. I am not however holding my breath for such a thing.

And the seasons they go round and round. Autumn is now here albeit a little early. It means leaves and fungi, rain and wind. Soon the pond will again fill and the bloody coypu will try to breach our defences to eat the lotuses on the pond.

And the painted ponies go up and down…

Not My Circus…

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This morning I was up early and without any extensive dream to write up and follow up.  Yesterday I read up a bit on Tsongkhapa and it seems that they think he became a full buddha as opposed to a reincarnating bodhisattva. Not sure why some dude who died six hundred years ago is at the periphery of my consciousness. He was kind of a founder / renewer of Tibetan Buddhism.

I read to today that Nigel the bellend Farage is 62, roughly the same age as me. He is still gadding about in DC. People age at different rates and clearly he and BoJo have a lot more get up and go than me. My mentality is not about going out there and soap-boxing, stirring the shit. I don’t need the oxygen of attention.

Increasingly I am less and less engaged with the news. It is a same shit different day thing. The Spanish dude is the only one to openly lament the European response to Gaza which will be a stain on collective conscience one day and for ever going forward. Hindsight is often more accurate than spin and propaganda.

“And you did what while people were being slaughtered? Fuck all? Really?”

Irrespective of any dreams I may have, I am under no illusion that power and politics are seen as more important. I cannot fit into pretty much any narrative. There is not really a story to be spun or told which could prove socio-politically useful or beneficial. Therefore it is best that I remain “unheard” of. My estimation is that life here, despite any dreams, will carry on much to the same pace and rhythm. I am not planning to inflict myself on anyone else.

The world “out there” is not my circus nor are they my monkeys.

I estimate that I have perhaps a little more than a decade left to live. Which will largely pass away from public gaze, as a person living adjunct to life in as minimally participatory a manner as I can manage.

Emptiness and impermanence can lead to a sense of nihilism. That somehow there is no point or purpose to anything. It is all going to dissolve. So why build those cloud capp’d towers and gorgeous palaces?

I believe to an extent in fate and if fate decrees it, then my end of days might differ. I have had no sign of a change in tack yet.

Life here, despite the lack of events, moves fast. There are not multiple meetings and oh so important chock full diaries. “Where” I am moves day to day, my inclination arrives and vanishes. What I might have been up for one morning is gone the next. The now is quite fast. An aperture opens and closes.

Who knows “where” I will be this time tomorrow?

Bad and Inapplicable Questions

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I have received the preliminary documents for my meeting with the anaesthesiologist in due course.

It asks some questions which make no sense to me. It wants me to scale the best health I can imagine, the worst health I can imagine and rate today’s score on a scale of 0 to 100.

The best health I can currently realistically imagine is how I feel in and around now. It has nothing to do with how I might have been aged 25. I can’t remember that!! That best score is demarcated 100%. In general how I feel depends upon where I am on the pain relief schedule. When pills are due or after I have walked a lot when there is pain so this is the worse I currently feel.

Is this meant to be 0%? I am not sure this is what they mean.

Am I to imagine a session of waterboarding at Guantanamo Bay?

What about after eating some delicious Australian gourmet Beef Wellington?

Or is 0% dead….

On the “realism” scale I would be somewhere around 80-100% all the time. Where 80 % is pills due after a long walk.

If 0% is dead then I would feel fine because I would no longer have a body. So for now I will always feel worse than dead, because pain is residual. When I am dead, I will feel no physical pain.

I feel worse than if I was dead.

I doubt they would like or understand that answer.

It asks if I can accomplish my current activities. Of course I can. I have adjusted these so that I am able to do them so the answer is a big fat yes, I can do all my current activities. I have adjusted my activities to my ability.

It asks if I am anxious or depressed. It does not ask if I am calm and chilled…

The questionnaire does not fit me well, yet the answers are going to go into some spreadsheet or for research!!

I am not trying to be contrary but I do not think like that questionnaire suspects…

I feeling a tad Victor Meldrew…