I think, by writing this (very intermittent) blog, that I can call myself a memoirist. Sounds impressive, no?

With thanks to Miley Cyrus for today’s title. She’s the same age as George, what does she know about no longer being young? Although we could say the same about Joni Mitchell and Both Sides Now, written when she was in her 20’s and still being performed by her, as I’ve mentioned before, in Post 148. If you haven’t watched that, please do. I’ve just read a book about her (Reckless Daughter by David Yaffe, named after her 1977 album Don Juan’s Reckless Daughter) and she had a very hard life so fully qualified to write such a song when she was a mere 24.

When I was young I had to wear a built-up heel and boot and calliper. As soon as I could (encouraged by the medical profession) I wore normal shoes. In my teens and twenties I wore stilettos. Now I find I need to wear a built-up heel and boots again (thankfully no calliper). Don’t like to claim I’m a fashion icon, but I’m in with the youngsters who all wear boots with their dresses!

Sorry, you’ve guessed this is another medical report, I hope of interesting things for some of you. Although I don’t wish any of these on you. I read somewhere that I am now in Sniper’s Alley (aged 50 to 70), where things just seem to go wrong. I also read that the over 65’s have an average of two things wrong with them (medically, what did you think I meant?). I must be taking on JD’s share as well as my own.

The last two years (starting from 2022) were my Annus Horribilis, although that seems to the only part of me that was not affected. (Sorry for the awful pun). My body seems to have decided I’m not writing enough, so it’s giving me plenty of copy. What do you know about posturing? Probably you’re thinking of something totally different from what I’ve been doing. The dictionary definition is ‘Behaviour or speech meant to attract attention or interest’. Well, yes, I do posture quite often if I’m honest. Not this though. How heavy a head is.

https://nosweatshakespeare.com/quotes/famous/heavy-is-the-head-that-wears-the-crown

It would appear I’ve been posturing (medically) ever since I could walk and it’s now caught up with me. Chronic abnormal posture has worn out my left leg, but as that’s ongoing I’ll keep it for another time. In addition to my new hero Felix Klieser (you heard about him on Post 153) I had, as my childhood heroes both Hopalong Cassidy (a TV cowboy who walked funny due to being shot in the leg) and Douglas Bader (a real person) who lost both legs in 1931 in a flying accident yet managed to sign up as a pilot in World War Two and become a hero. (He’s since been discredited due to being misogynistic but that’s the way of things these days).

Sir Douglas Bader

Later in life some more heroes were Alan Alda and Donald Sutherland (both played in M.A.S.H.), Mia Farrow and the afore-mentioned Joni Mitchell. All had polio as youngsters (or not even so young) but managed to live successful lives. Nothing to stop me doing the same. (Well, apart from the total lack of acting or singing ability and not being able to pilot a plane, that is).

https://www.bionity.com/en/encyclopedia/List_of_polio_survivors.html

(I’ve looked to see if I’m there as a famous scientist or memoirist but I couldn’t find me).

In December 2022 I woke up one morning to realise I could see out of only one eye; the left one was very blurred. As someone with extreme short sight I have been warned that if this happens it could be a detached retina and to get to the eye hospital ASAP. (How to get to hospital safely was never discussed). I woke JD and asked if he could take me to the optician. Thankfully these days they are trusted to do an initial diagnosis. A quick check and ‘get thee to the hospital’ ensued. I cannot fault Bristol Eye Hospital, other than being in the middle of Bristol (the name is a bit of a giveaway). Despite it being a Saturday shortly before Christmas we managed to park outside and were seen reasonably quickly. I was assured that it was not a detached retina (medical emergency) but a macular hole. (This followed on from the diagnosis of a pseudo-macular hole in 2021. Much better to be genuine than a pseud, don’t you agree?). The bit I wasn’t happy about was that, as I’d caught it early, as long as it was sorted in the next six months I’d be fine. (Don’t ask me to explain the difference between a detached retina and a macular hole, they appear very similar to an ignoramus like me).

Anyway, being reluctant to soldier on with one blurred eye until the NHS decided I was at the top of the list, I decided to have it seen to privately. An operation followed last February. Here I am waiting to be wheeled into the theatre.

It all went well and now I’m almost back to my usual sight, with a few black spots where the nerves are still re-wiring. Two hints: always make sure to label the side to be operated on (and if in doubt, label the other side ‘not here’, as I did with my hip), and if you can, have a general anaesthetic unless you want to experience the sounds and aromas that accompany an operation. I don’t.

The eye could have been a lot worse, look up Charles Bonnet syndrome.

https://www.macularsociety.org/macular-disease/macular-conditions/charles-bonnet-syndrome

Next to play up was my thyroid. This has been (supposedly) hyperactive for a number of years. I say supposedly as if I really had a thyroid that was chucking out too much hormone, I’d be as skinny as a supermodel and be able to eat anything without putting weight on. If only! My blood results said I had a problem which was not getting any better, and the medication I was taking is not without some pretty threatening side effects so the plan was I’d have a radioactive capsule and that would knock out the bad cells in my thyroid. The downside is that I could end up with an underactive thyroid, then I’d need to take the hormone I’d been producing too much of before. That seems preferable, I think, even if I’d have to take it for the rest of my life.

This procedure did not involve being knocked out or having to write on my body. It did, however, involve a reasonable amount of preparation and planning. Once treated, I had to avoid small children and pregnant women for a while, especially on public transport. The first is (relatively) easy, the second could lead to embarrassing situations. ‘Excuse me madam, or you pregnant or just fat? Either way, please do not sit next to me’. I took the easy option and decided to avoid public transport. Blind Captain Cat and the Welshie were booked into kennels: although they were not at risk of getting pregnant I thought allowing them to sit on my knee while I radiated radioactivity was not a good idea.

Finally, I received a questionnaire to fill in. Did we have a separate bedroom for JD to use while I was glowing? Did we have a separate bathroom he could use? Did we have enough towels that he’d not need to use the same ones? Could I use separate crockery and cutlery and wash it separately and keep it away from his? I had to wash my clothes separately (but there was no need to worry about residual radioactivity in the machine). All these were do-able, but then we decided it was getting a bit too surreal. Did the two bedrooms share a common wall?

Regardless, I went ahead. The capsule had to be ordered from Germany and one day a month the procedure was carried out for those of us in need. On the day, I turned up at the hospital, had the usual checks to make sure I was me then the consultant came in. He had a long thick straw which he handed to me. When the lead-lined box was opened I had to tip the capsule into the straw (no touching) then tip it into my mouth and swallow it. He left the room before I opened the box. I guess if he was handing these out like sweeties he could get a fair bit of exposure every time. I was dangerous for only a fortnight and we seem to have survived. I had this handy little card to show if necessary. (We didn’t even think of flying anywhere, goodness knows what effect I’d have had on the monitors in the airport).

Another interesting condition I discovered I have is Gilbert’s syndrome: excess bilirubin in my blood. Once again, no symptoms, just routine blood results showing high levels. My brother also has it so I guess we blame one or both of our parents (as Philip Larkin said in his poem This Be The Verse, ‘They F*** you up, your mum and dad, they may not mean to but they do’.)

https://www.nhs.uk/conditions/gilberts-syndrome

Then in October I was sent a sleep monitor to wear for a night. This came about when I mentioned my lack of stamina in walking that has got significantly worse since my Covid infection in 2022. I sent it back and was called up for a lung function test a couple of weeks later. Here I mentioned that I’m having the problem when I walk for any length of time: the chap asked if I had a ‘walking test’ but when I said no that was the end of the conversation and he just sat me down and asked me to breathe into the machine. I’m still waiting for the results.

Meanwhile I’ll try anything once (except Morris dancing and incest). Here we are undergoing a Gong bath in Spain administered by JD’s son Oliver. I’m not sure what effect it might have had but it couldn’t do any harm. Having tried to find the origin of this quote, I wonder if I should repeat it, given all the conflicting information here.

https://www.quizmonkey.net/people/quotations%20info%20incest.htm

I’ve been sitting on this Post for some time and I’m sure it’s affected my ability to write my usual light-hearted stuff. Let’s see. Sorry for the lack of photos but you’d not want one of gory operations, would you? More fun next time, with luck.