Category Archives: Personal

A shoulder

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I’ve probably mentioned my right shoulder before with pain / limited movement. Today I got the physio appt. Part of the exam was her – a much smaller lighter lady – telling me to push against her hands while my arms were in different positions. In most I was fine but with one my right arm had no strength at all. She pushed and my arm just went with her. Very odd. A couple of others there was weakness and discomfort but at least I could try and resist those. That plus prodding around the upper arm means I have a series of exercises to do several times a day and another appt in 3 weeks. She gave the green light to the splints I use for the wrist/hand which was good.

Quiet

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Youngest is at her boyfriend’s house, eldest is out with the wife, the cat is quietly snoring and the dog is occasionally grumbling in his sleep. No music, no tv, no external noise other than traffic distantly humming up and down the M1. It’s as good as it gets for silence here and it is wonderful.

Perfectly annoying

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P makes great mince pies and she makes them in great quantities because I eat the most. How many is most? If she made 100 I’d eat 80. So I am at the height of my festive pie eating right now or to put it another way I am taking up more space daily. Come the thaw the girls and me will start using an elliptical trainer which is in the garage. We could use it inside but it’s a little cruel to use exercise equipment in front of Jacq. Very cruel. So in the frozen garage it is and will remain unloved until there is a thaw. The weight must come off and that is one method. Anyway, I’m doing the washing up and I twist the broken finger. It didn’t have the splint on because I’m increasing the movement but it twisted and I said ouch. P called through asking if I was okay which it was. And that’s when I realised what the hand damage had shown me.

I had more sympathy / concern over my hand (which admittedly is a fairly useful bit of the anatomy) than I have from being bipolar and all that entails (and minds are more essential than hands) and yet online you cannot see the effect of a broken finger (I can still type) but you really do see the effects of my mental health. It comes through in so much I write. I’m sure I could map the ups/downs through twitter at least and me writing this now in an indication of a frame of mind.
There was a meme about invisible illnesses went around some blogs earlier this year. I did all the answers and nearly posted it here but was wary of who would read it. Wary because you cannot un-reveal something. (Found a site called unsuicide yesterday while looking for something else – and no, I’m not – and I wondered how you would unsuicide exactly. If you can’t unsee then unsuicide is well, impossible? I got the point of the site). If you are going to reveal you have to trust. There are people I will never know reading this and I don’t care because we know nothing of each other, some readers I really do want to meet and I genuinely trust them and there are others I either have met or will meet who I trust and do not trust. This goes back to being bipolar and the fact people will read this blog and make their minds up before we meet. Or they will look back and decide in retrospect that something done genuinely was done because of my mental health.

5. Most people assume: That what I am saying does not count because they think I’m too happy, too sad, too mad. “Oh he doesn’t mean it” or they conveniently forget about the bipolar when it suits them.

It’s very very annoying. It’s bad enough me wondering just what’s going on without having to deal with conflicting messages even though I am the reason for them. It’s my fault but it’s also not. Which isn’t a cop-put, it’s just difficult. So is this a way of asking for sympathy? No because you can’t give it. So why mention it in comparison to my hand? I don’t know.

In other news I still cannot play MW2. But a tentative few goes on BCBF2 went well so that is the game of choice for a while. I am Level 5 Specialist II so I have much yet to learn.

And finally I was looking for a domain for someone else and found one I just had to buy. The design (which is crap, I know but I have never pretended to have any aesthetic abilities whatsoever)  is the original for the tattoo I have on my chest – and if you knew all the meanings captured in that design you really would know me very very well. http://perfectly.me/

Hand Pt3

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Index finger is all shades of pink, purple, yellow. The splint it has cannot be removed for 3 weeks from injury apparently. I have about 10 degrees of movement at the first knuckle and not much more at the second. The index finger also appears to be bent slightly more toward the other finger. Imagine the index finger was only half straight from this original injury pic.


It’s like the doctor in Casualty didn’t manage to straighten it. The middle finger I have around 60 degrees of movement at the first knuckle and 30 degrees at the second. The exercises I have to do 10 times daily are obviously focussing on increasing the bendability. I can’t get a photo good enough to show the bruising. It covers half the back of my hand, the left side of my palm above the thumb area, both knuckles on the middle finger (particularly the last one) and all the index I can see.
Gaming. I just tried to play Modern Warfare 2. First game was Bailout and I ended up 19 kills, 3 deaths, game winning kill with the Chopper Gunner (score was 7400 when I got it and went straight to it). It was too painful to continue into the next. It’s not the holding, it’s not the pressing a button. It’s the twisting. So as one part of the hand or the other hand starts one action the rest braces the controller – and that hurts both damaged fingers but especially the middle. I’ll try again when I’ve had more physio. When I saw her she asked what I did and actually said I shouldn’t. Well… what she actually said was “Do you touch type?” and when I said No I wasn’t that good she said I should stop. Lots of little shocks down the finger are not good right now. I made promises to type as light as it could be done – I told her the kb I have (one of the Apple slimlines) and that calmed her so she’s okay now. Complicated bits of kit are hands, I’m not going to endanger this one. (and she said the rings in my hands were great, interesting. Had no concerns at all).

So I grabbed some books: Notes From The Underground (Dostoevsky), Crime and Punishment (Dostoevsky), Heart of Darkness (Conrad) and War and Peace (Tolstoy). That is the order I want to read them too when I find the time. But that’s a whole different post if indeed it’s ever written here.

Hand Pt2

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It’s called a Volar Plate Avulsion Injury apparently. Hand is now swollen and the metal ring in the back of the hand cannot be seen.
Little finger escaped damage. Ring finger must have been stretched as it’s painful when used to grip. Ring finger remains swollen, solid and has at most 45 degrees of movement down. Both knuckles are shades of purple, first section of finger is twice normal size. Index finger isn’t too bad but then it’s splinted. Can move last section and it too has 45 degrees from the knuckle. Seeing the physio on the 22nd, can’t do anything until then. I asked about typing and the answer was if I was gentle on the keys when I type I should be okay. I’m not.
In other news I’ve not switched on the PS3 since I tried that one game of MW2. Unless I’ve been out the country it’s never been off so long. PSP dusted off and I’m playing Jeanne d’Arc (87 at Metacritic) instead.

I described the stairs and stairlift to the physio when he called to make the appt. I asked how he thought it happened. His opinion was that the index caught the stairlift rail and the hand carried on past. His lovely description was to imagine falling over near a kerb. You put your hand out to stop. The index finger makes enough contact to stay where it is on the flat top of the kerb but the hand keeps going down which forces the finger up very quickly. Now there’s a mental picture as you make a fist while thinking about it.

Which way did you say it was?

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The stairs have – until in time I forget – a new respect from me. I slipped, hurt my hand and partway down the stairs managed to stop the fall. I then saw the mess above and promptly fell the rest of the way down. (Later when I was back J said that I must have got religious because she heard me say something like “Mary mother of god”. I said there was no way I would have said that and P said that I hadn’t either, that I had very definitely used the mofo word. At least once.) Anyway, my hand either hit the end of a step or the end of a step and J’s stairlift or the stairlift rail. (The stairlift rail takes up about 1/3 of the available space). Fairly obvious I needed the hoispital so while J called D to get me there I came upstairs, took the required photos (as you do) and then sat in shock for a few minutes. Nasty thing is shock – worst I had was after a motorbike accident many years ago). Anyway, off to A&E.
At least down there it was easy to see what was wrong so I fairly whizzed through. 2 injections into the base of each finger after xray showed the really bent one wasn’t broken and the index was. Then the doc pulled the middle finger back into place – I felt it pop – and the index also – I felt a grind. The piece of bone that holds the ligament to the first knuckle from the hand is broken. Apparently that finger will flex back very well in time. The index has a splint, the middle has nothing. Thankfully the middle finger is stable and not wobbly at that first knuckle so the 10 layer finger-to-elbow plaster was not needed. Anyway, I have all the right painkillers for the next 24 hours as the worst comes and goes, the knuckle and underside of the middle finger are going dark and it is not possible for me to play Modern Warfare 2. Too painful. I may have to read instead. Typing feels strange too – having to use my left ring finger and I don’t type properly anyway so typos are a’plenty.

What was quite unusual was that while every nurse/doctor/radiologist/receptionist asked me what was in my hands and how I got them in there not one asked why. That made a very welcome change.

New shiny

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I’m sitting in front of two machines, both belong to work. My laptop belongs to work. The other computers in the house – and there are a few – do not have my name on. So if I want to just browse the net, or do non-work stuff I have to do this on a work machine. And work is work, I can’t help but see that xchat is open, adium is showing incoming, twitter searches are in the dock as are 3 browsers and any other programs I might be using that day. There is no getting away from the fact that these two are Work. They are almost identical too so that should this one fail the other is there to rely on. Anyway, no computer, no personal web stuff. I couldn’t compartmentalise any online activity. That works as an excuse for a new shiny but it’s actually real.

Don’t need a desktop or a SFF machine because I don’t need what it can do. I don’t need a laptop because what I want to use it for does not warrant the size, weight or ability. So – that leaves a notebook. Checking several sites in the end I opted for a Compaq CQ10. It’s running Windows XP (and it arrived with no activated crapware) so I’m quite happy there. All the programs I want are now installed, I have a few gb of music and when the extra gb of RAM arrives (it runs well but as it’ll take 2 it can have 2) it’ll be all the smoother. OS is tweaked a little, custom theme installed. And no work programs. Pidgin will be Live and ICQ only, no Skype, irc is there but not for work. It’s a work-free machine, one I can use and see just what I have created. I do have a couple of plans for some non-work work which I can move to it which will be better. And if I am out and it is lost / stolen then unlike my laptop I don’t need to worry about work passwords/data. So all is good.

Drunk

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Got on the plane feeling fine. I’d cut down on the caffeine beforehand, drank enough water (2 litres at the airport, took another 2 on with me). During the flight started to feel ill. I had a bad pain at the base of my spine, spent over 4 hours of the flight standing at the back stretching and being constantly asked if I was in the queue for the toilet and by the end of the flight was feeling very wobbly. I felt uncoordinated while collecting the suitcase and had to concentrate hard to not stagger. Lots more stopping to get my balance on the way to the coach. Since I’m home it feels like I am very drunk. The room will spin, my legs are wobbly and feel like they will give way, I feel sick, my breathing is worse, vision is a little blurred at times, typing is taking more concentration. My fluid intake is good, caffeine is still down, food is good. And I’ve had headaches too.

So ….. jetlag or caffeine related or a bug. Given where it started I’d actually say a bug. You know when you’ve had a few drinks and you lie on the bed that the room does start spinning? That’s just what it’s like here, even as I type this. It is very unpleasant.

Add New Post

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I’ve never ‘got’ Facebook. The friends thing weirds me out partly because so many people seem to have these friends who they have never and will never meet and partly because I find it all confusing what with posts, pages, comments, likes, fans etc. I deleted (as far as you can there) myself once and I forget why I added myself back but now it’s private, friends only and barely used. I’m using Stainless as a standalone app for it so it stands out in the dock and cookies do not get read elsewhere but I still can’t bring myself to use it often. Maybe I’m just too old.
Twitter I use. 4500 posts since sometime 2007. Each worthy of a post? No. Each useless? No but I bet it’s north of 90%, So why use? Habit. I use it for news and keeping track of certain issues, use it to see what others are doing and it takes me no time at all to type a sentence like “All lawyers are bastards” (which they pretty much are). Is that worthy of a blog post? Hell yes, it may well be at some point. So why don’t I blog like I used to. Here are some reasons:

1. My girls started to read it. Now they don’t care but relate to 2 it seemed to matter then. But also their friends could read it (as one did when I blogged my eldest had dumped her boyfriend, he read it and I found out she hadn’t actually taken that step).
2. My anger went down. I spent a lot of time angry at things, things that still exist but are now lessened by nicer things. So the volcano has subsided.
3. Meeting people who read what I wrote. At one time my old site was pretty popular. All WordPress related and while I had some comments (current stats 3,666 posts, 11,0101 comments) it was strange seeing really high stats and hardly any comments. I think most people would like more comments than seeing the equivalent of people traipsing silently through your house. So although I had met several people before I started that blog they knew me first and then read the words. Their opinion was formed in person. So meeting people who have decided what you are like after they have read your words is different. Better? Worse? No idea. But saying ‘Hi’ to someone who then says “Hey, I read your blog” does make you wonder what impression they really have.
4. Related to the above – censoring self. Many times I have written entries here then deleted them because they could have offended someone I know. If you are a lawyer I don’t care – I’ll call you anyway – but on other topics I end up deleting the post.
5. Time. This is the main one. My time is very fragmented. In the day I will work, shop, clean, play, walk the dog, tidy and other stuff but it’s all bitty, no set times. I work whenever. I don’t start at 9 and finish at 5. What I want to do is at the bottom of the pile to J’s needs, the dog, the house, the girls. That is wrong and needs to change and blogging would then return. Sitting to write takes time. Composing the post or even – as I do – just letting the fingers tap away with no real idea of what will be in the next sentence. Giving a time span forces a thought, drives the words but I have never blogged that way. There are a small number of posts which I really do like and they did not come about from some contrived draft and equally there are posts which now make me cringe a little but they too came out direct. (There are more posts which make me wonder just what I was on when I wrote them too). (Dealing with the complaints at wordpress.com also makes me realise that my blog must have been the subject of several complaints to my host. I know of one from a splogger who failed).

I’m sitting in San Francisco airport. Boarding isn’t for another 30 minutes so I have time. I have the time to write about my blogging and I had no real idea what I would write. I have time to pause as I write and ponder the chances of being pulled over in Customs and having to pay the tax due. I think I’m missing a point above too.

So what I need is time. Here’s an example – I brought over my Sony Reader and while here I have sat each night and read some of two books. The act of reading is good, the peace was good and what I read was good. I need to take that feeling back home and make a point of recreating it, make a point of saying “it’s reading time’, make a point of claiming a certain number of minutes just for me. That can only be a good thing. And that’s the thing with writing. I once asked Matt what he said to people who asked “How do I blog?” and his reply was “Write”. That’s it. It’s not difficult but it’s the putting time aside to do that, it’s the holding of the best thought that might have been twittered and writing about that.

I’m sure I’ve written all this before.

I blame ‘asides’ :)

I should write because I do like to do so. I will see what happens.

I should go through all my old posts and pick out the ‘bests’. They would be inspiring.

A dislike of Spring

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Whether it comes in like a lion and out like a lamb – or vice versa – the joy of spring beginning is hard to resist, says Simon Schama BBC

I dislike intensely the Spring season. Just as many people don’t like the cold starkness that is Winter, I hate the newness that is Spring. Sounds odd maybe. Did you know that the Spring – Summer period is the highest for suicides? Go look it up – wikipedia has it but places that do real research have it too. It’s as if that cold starkness suits someone with depression but the warmth and colour of Spring does not. It is not a season that I derive any pleasure from. Summer has it’s evenings, Autumn has the leaves and Winter is one long glorious event but Spring? No, I’d pass on that.