Bending The Truth: Old Spines And Possible Remedies

When one is somewhat elder ... one begins to accept that one cannot bend as well as when young. But in truth I do get very blue spending the best part of this year unable to straighten up first thing in the morning without climbing me own legs with me hands, so to speak.

Finally I take meself off to a recommended chiropractor (McTimoney. No that's not his name, that's the "school of"... so to speak). Well dears, the primary verdict is that one leg lies longer than the other... and me spine... Well, it do not know which way is north and which way south!

But what do you expect when I am subject to the makings of Mrs D? I mean naturally my spine be twisted this way and that. Look how she do make me. All sorts of sticky tape and plastic bindings.... 
Remember how my hand do drop off on occasion? She do not have a clue with those joints and screws. I swear I did last longer in my first incarnation based on pipe-cleaners and cotton wool. Oh, tut-tut and la-di-da, that lady is a lummox in the puppetry department.

But.... I am feeling so, so much better, now that I'm marching off to the chiropractor. My word but I am gradually straightening up. My leg lengths are starting to match and ... do you know... but I don't feel so old. Absolutely. Younger every day.

Seven Ages Of Man: Sans Sight

The Old Man do finally go for an eye test. I be complaining for some time that he is not seeing properly. So when his frames broke and he is forced to dig out an older pair of glasses and is a bit shocked to find he can see better through the old ones than the current pair... he admits defeat and goes off to the opticians.
As you may know The Old Man be somewhat unique in all things... to the point of tedium really. So it is no surprise that his eyesight is an inconstant sense... now he sees it... now he don't... sorta thing.
Anyway. He be very pleased when he do emerge from said opticians with a grand total of THREE pairs of glasses on order. A new set of lenses in a new frame, a duplicate pair... in a new frame... and something called "enhanced reading" lenses in a new frame. Apparently this last is for viewing things slightly further away than a book. The Old man says... a computer.. (Ha! Optician don't know that the eyes what does his computer work for him be mine!)... or a newspaper....

These had better work. I see plenty of room for The Old Man's "Princess and the Pea" syndrome to rise up here... three times over.....

I Have an NHS Health Check...

......and find I am an officially inactive, overweight, near-alcoholic with high cholesterol.

See, the Check was offered and I thought I would have one because I never see a doctor, cos I be so "healthy". No-one have taken me blood-pressure for years... so I was interested to get that done... I also thought maybe they'd do some kind of diabetes check, cos they be all up-in-arms about diabetes at the moment.

First I had to fill out forms saying how much exercise I took, hours of housework, walking, gardening, etc... as well as active sports and exercise like cycling, swimming, etc (can't do neither of they, I'm afraid). And I had to do a score test on my alcohol consumption. Well... I do like my weekend bottle of wine... which do last me three days.. and maybe I have another couple of drinks over the week.

Then I be measured, weighed, blood-pressured and had me finger pricked for a cholesterol test .....That was it. The Health Care Assistant then asked me if I had kidney disease or be diabetic. (So I be a bit disappointed that she wasn't going to test that.) And asked if any immediate family had suffered heart disease. Then she gave me my results based on my questionnaire and those things which she have measured.

The good news is that I have beautiful blood pressure.

Otherwise... the BMI index rated me overweight and 2 points below obese. Cholesterol at 6.07 be declared "high". I be labelled "physically inactive"... and, to my horror, presented with a further questionnaire about my alcohol consumption which included questions like "Did I need a drink first thing in the morning?" - "Did I suffer guilt or remorse over my drinking?" - "Had I ever caused injury to others due to my drinking?"... On and on it do go and although I laughed and joked... I went into shock and when I recalled it later... I be furious.
I was issued with a diet sheet for my weight and cholesterol level, only being asked as afterthought if I be vegetarian... so I be given the veggie option in addition.... and be waved good-bye with the promise of another blood test for cholesterol in six months time.

Actually. I am rather angry and disappointed. Sure... some of this is guilt. I would like to be more active and to weigh less... so I shall try. But there is controversy over the use of BMI as a calculating tool for estimating weight problems...(I just did an online test which gave me a top weight of 9st 11lbs and at my most active and slim (work, walking, dance classes and a full on vegan diet) I was probably around that.... But never in a million years since childhood would I manage the bottom weight of 7stone.
And the diet sheet? My "breakfast" should be what I normally eat... plus the addition of a low-fat yogurt. The diet sheet includes plenty of low-fat, no-fat dairy products. Nowadays some pundits are pointing out that low-fat products are routinely stuffed full of sugar and salt to make them taste better.

Time for this Free NHS Health Check to become more up to date and genuinely informative... not just a box-ticking exercise.

Madame Deficit Considers Rural Life And Chilblains

Alors, mes enfants. I do love the pretty, rural life, don't you?... Peace, tranquillité, a simple way of living that do bring us connection with the earth..... Mais... How can this poor person have this "chilblains" thing? They have lived the life of a generation blessed with ease, free education, jobs and pensions. And gold-plated pensions too, yes? It is not possible that they can be cold.
After all, this kind government do agree that the cost of energy and fuel be outrageous at the moment. They do declare that the price of Gas and Electricity must be reasonable, yes? That suppliers must put their customers on the best tariff. Pouf! Naughty suppliers.
Nevertheless I agree that the government does not appear to have given much thought to the particular fuel cost problems of those who live a life of charm in the countryside. In such rural areas there is not always access to supplies of Mains Gas. People may have to use either Oil or LPG for their heating and cooking. And it appears that Oil and LPG do cost much more than Mains Gas.

So... for example... we have this particular couple... who do not run the hot water except during the couple of hours in the mornings and the evenings when the LPG central heating is on.... Even so the LPG do cost more than one hundred pounds per month. (They have already switched supplier - a choice that has become almost impossible over the years because the area's main supplier (a nationwide company) have bought up most of the local independents.) Remember also that this fuel bill is for LPG alone. There are Electricity bills to be paid on top of that. And there is no recourse to "dual fuel tariff" deals in such households. No electricity supplier includes Oil or LPG supply in such price schemes.
Alors! So...
Cold hands, cold water, un peu de fragilité... et voilà... lumpy, blistered, itchy chilblains...

I can only suggest that, if this man's hand is so cold, he can chop wood to keep it warm, non?

The Old Man's Hand

So some have asked... what have happened with The Old Man's sausage fingers?
They is still swollen, boys and girls. I tell you I be a bit fed up with kitchen rota duties on me Tod - cooking, washing-up, baking the daily bread.... If these posts are a bit thin on the ground it's cos I is up to my elbows in dough and washing-up liquid.
Recap. He has one swollen hand that now has discoloured patches of skin what do itch like mad. The Old Man do have a blood-test that indicates his sodium level is too low... so the doctor do halve one of his drugs (Spironolactone) and ask to see him in a week or so. Meanwhile the doctor is trying to get him a blood-test (what needs no delay between taking the blood and analysing it) at the main hospital. We wait in not so blissful silence for the possibility of that being arranged.
Now, people be saying to him "That's chilblains". And we do think.... indeed he do seem to have chilblains on that hand. But which came first? The swollen hand or the chilblains? Like... be the chilblains opportunistic on the "bad-circulation-cos-I-is-swollen" front? Or.. was it chilblains all along? Surely the GP would recognise that?
Anyway.... . The Old Man be due to have another ordinary blood-test next week to see what effect on his sodium level lowering that drug dose has had ...
But meanwhile the skin on his hand be getting fragile...
As am I.

Apologies....(Korf! Korf!)

You may well ask.... where have I been?
Answer?....
(Korf! Korf!   Hak! Hak!)
Considerably below the weather.... which as you may know has been lousy in the quagmire that is Cornwall.
By the time The Old Man be chivvied out of his nesting-reading-the-paper-watching-the-news-on-the-telly chair and learn to open the bedroom door and look at me now and then.....
By the time he do learn to poke a drink or an offer of food at me fairly regularly.....
By the time I do stop shouting and wailing that I (Korf!Korf!) do feel ill..... (Hak!) In short... dear readers... by the time some sanity (Hak! Hak!) do return to the household and to me...

..... then I do manage to be a bit more vertical and will be talking and boring on as usual...... (Korf!).... soon.

The Consequences Of A Cramped Living Space....

.... because building work be held up by a lack of the "three dry days in a row" required by the sub-contractor.....

well... for me this do mean two visits to the osteopath who's trying to straighten out me spine. I mean... there's an awful lot of sidling and swiveling built into our days.

And housework? Oy Veh!

Yoga Lunging And Its Possible Consequences

   .... But ....

Whilst you're down there... you may as well relax. That's what yoga is for ain't it?

Yoga And The Challenge Of "Lunging"

See.... sometimes a pose is a bit.... wobbly.

It does not seem right to wobble whilst practicing "The Lunge".









But sometimes one just does feel that old wobble starting.....

Yoga And Life's Ups And Downs

Sometimes you get days when plans don't work out....

....so I am still practisin' this yoga thing in the hopes that tensions will ease and I will greet each day as a new start...

Here I am.... getting ready for something called "The Lunge".....

We could all do with a good lunge now and then.

Yoga's Challenge....

My first Yogic challenge is .... how to learn some.
As has been said - by others to my furious little face...
"Of course you be not a group person... be you."
Perish the thought. Can you not see I be not a joining-in kind of gal?

Actually this be news to me..... but groups be groups..... frequently sharp of tooth and claw.... perhaps tongue also. And I do accept that a small person what do not drive is a useless thing in rural areas. Bus journeys do take longer than the events attended and may take one on to pastures new.... but not where one planned to be going always... (see subject tag "Transport")

So I take the cowards way out and get myself an MP3 download..... Maintenant, je yoga chaque jour with me earpieces in ..... peaceful as a thoughtful frog listening to birdsong.

Yoga Continued....

 Of course... suppleness is a thing to be admired... as is a strong spine that supports all the floppy bits of elderness.

Moi? I'd like to get those hips stretching a bit...... so I do not hobble down hill because, believe you me, ... there be plenty of downhill in Cornwall.

But more to the point.....

I do frighten myself in the mirror when I be trying on a summer frock in the dress shop.

Drastic Measures

I decide that hips that refuse to work going downhill are a thing to be discouraged. Time to get supple....er.

Not to mention all the blood pressure raising that I be very good at these days... what with the jury's decisions at the BBC Cardiff Singer of the World.... which seem a bit over the top.....

.....and the general resurgent dog-whistling about baby boomers and their sapping of the hard-working tax payer.....

 (Alors! Moi je pay le tax aussi.)


So I do decide that something needs to be done about meself otherwise I do be following Mrs D down a road paved with empty bottles of red........ Voila!

Yoga.

The Old Man's Downfall

Oops!
The Old Man did make his annual trip to Helston's Flora Day on Tuesday. I don't often go, it has to be said... you may gather that I am rather short... and I do get tired of crowds and staring at people's backs. But it is a very jolly occasion and I do love that all the buildings be decorated with flowers and greenery.

Carried away with the joy of it all, The Old Man did lurch and fall. He be promptly stood up again by a gentleman standing outside the pub and be only a little the worse for wear. The Old Man do explain to me that he has so little muscle that he do collapse like a sack of potatoes and nothing do get very hurt. Nevertheless he do have some bruises and a pulled muscle.

And... Boy do I know this!
How can someone who has made more than one close call to the Pearly Gates without a murmur of complaint be such a martyr to cuts, bruises and headaches? Someone explain this to my hard heart.

The Perils Of Old Age: Fragility

Look at this!
Half me finger's just dropped off.
This is what comes of working hard to be a star of internet and animation.
Bits drop off.

Mrs D is bein' all clucky and soothy and sayin' she will soon put it right.
She says she sympathises on account one of her ancient teeth is cracked right down the middle... and tomorrow she has to get the dentist's verdict.
Expect a gap in her old fizzog's smile any day.

I say... she should stop with crunchin' on them tortilla chips.

Aaarrrchooo!

With apologies for my absence....
Violent sneezing, streaming nose and scarlet eyes... Is it a cold? Nope! I do think I have developed some kind of "late onset" hay fever. For sure something did climb up there and annoyed everything. Blimey never seed the like before.

....Upstairs and Downstairs and in The Old Man's Chambers

So The Old Man has received a copy of his Heart Doctor's letter to his GP.

Apparently... his "chambers" have shrunk.

But this appears to be a good thing.

The Old Man's Health Report

So I just want to say for those followers that get concerned over The Old Man. His health, I mean. The rest is just The Old Man.

We's been a little stressed recently cos he does feel a bit ropey. After many discussions he decides that it is one of the many drugs he takes that is making matters worse for him, headaches, muscle pains.

So he mentions it to his heart doctor on the rare occasion that he gets a check up with him. The doctor sets in motion changing the beta-blocker.

Finally he has a supply and has started the new drug a few days ago.

Whether out of relief or what, I don't know, but he is sleeping better, looking a bit better, and is generally jollier.

Then he turns to me with a worried look and says:

"It might make me too cheerful."

That's my boy.

The Old Man's Words - Don't Panic

So we sit in the kitchen discussing Anthony Blunt and the spy thing and the art history thing... following on from a BBC Radio 4 "Reunion" programme.

(Eh-Em.. I would like to point out that decades ago I do myself attend an interview for a place studying art history at The Courtauld Institute (where Blunt taught). That would be a thing, if he had been on the interviewing panel. Of course I am not accepted. I do not "have the languages".)

So, like I say, we's be discussing such things as study and research...

"Of Course...." say Old Man: " there has to be sigorous research."

Silence descends on kitchen.

"Sigorous?" say I.

"Sigorous." say bit less confident Old Man.

"What you mean... SIGOROUS!" say panicked me.

Dear Reader, you may now wonder why I have such a dramatic reaction to The Old Man mangling his words these days. Well, he does report to his nurse and GP the incident where he cannot remember a word no matter how hard he try to say it.... (see this July post). And they both say that if such a thing do happen again we must dial 999 for Ambulance for it may be a mini-stroke or TIA thingy. But what they do not know is that The Old Man's speech is frequently sprinkled with malapropisms and spoonerisms. This latest instruction from the medics simply creates an almost permanent state of alarm and alert.

Seriously, one does not sleep so well for fear that he will literally mis-speak; and if he does we both have to jump on chairs and scream....

"Aargh! Argh! Don't panic...don't panic... "

Anyway this time we decide that this is The Old Man's usual cavalier way with words and settle on the theory that he was trying to say RIGOROUS.

As himself says: "That's next in line in the alphabet isn't it? Rigorous. Sigorous."

Yeah! True. Rigorous, shigorous, schmigorous.

"And then there's VIGOROUS..." say Old Man.

We live to fight another day.

The Old Man's Words - Again

A week ago or so.... The Old Man did another heart-stopping health trick.

In the kitchen, he starts to tell me that there is another bottle of...

"v....blop.... er.... va....kupfick.... er.... in the fridge... another kind of... va... vo....."

I tell him to shut up and sit down. And we both stare at each other for a while, wondering if this is another stroke thingy.

When it is safe to speak he tells me he knows he is frightening me. I think we both be a bit shook up.

Maybe the first time this happened was before I wuz bloggin. It was way back before the heart operation last year. Then... we were sitting opposite each other at the supper table and suddenly The Old Man starts to speak more rubbish than usual.

That time I also tell him to shut up.

This is my knee-jerk reaction. If he doesn't speak at all - it won't be happening. Eventually he'll manage a straight sentence.

On this occasion he is diagnosed as having had a mini- stroke, no lasting damage, one of the problems associated with dodgy heart valves, dodgy heart rhythmns.... The Old Man is put on Warfarin to thin the blood... And for The Old Man it is part of the decision taken to have the heart-valve operation.

So - back to the other day. When we stare at each other and wonder... why he is doing it again?

When we calm down we discuss it. The Old Man says the two incidents are different. Before - he thought he was saying the right word. This time - he knows the word he wants to say but can't find it.

We decide it is a combination of summer heat, baking bread with hot oven, tiredness, and of course.... THE DRUGS.

But it's the kind of thing that shakes up the both of us. Just when you think you might be getting over it all.....