Category Archives: Health

A Silly Little Story

Jillian here. Welcome to November. I have been reading about everyone’s travels and wishing I’d been winging away to somewhere fun. Alas, I am working, working, working. I actually have to have another surgery (appreciate some prayers on the 14th) and so I’m trying to work hard to clear my decks before being out for a bit. I am also doing NaNoWriMo- yes, I am crazy.  Just lock me up!

Since it’s been dullsville here in the Florida panhandle, I thought I’d share a silly little piece of flash fiction I did about a year ago. The writing prompt was a picture of breakfast so I wrote this little ditty called Bacon and Eggs:

Bacon and eggs

The bell over the door of the diner tinkled announcing a customer. Tom, the short-order cook, didn’t look up. He was tired of glancing at the door and being disappointed. If only she’d come. Desperate to see her again, he forced himself to focus on the pancakes on the griddle and the sausages in the pan. Keeping everything going at the same time was a challenge when he first came to work at the hole in the wall joint. It wasn’t what he was used to but it was honest work.

“Tom?”

He couldn’t believe it. It must be his imagination. Was it really her voice? One word—his name—and he recognized it?

Afraid to turn around and have his hopes dashed, he ignored the sound and kept his attention on the food orders.

“Tom?”

There it was again. His broken heart must be working overtime to taunt him. He could swear it was her but she was gone. She’d left him long ago. He’d even moved and gotten a job in a place she’d never think to search for him. It wouldn’t be her if he looked. He was sure of it.

“Tom. Please.”

Inhaling deeply, he turned to face the person who relentlessly spoke his name.

Stunned to see the woman he loved and lost, he couldn’t find words. He stared in amazement.

“I’ve found you at last.” She smiled and held her hand out. “Won’t you come home?”

“But you said you couldn’t love me.”

“I was wrong. I see that now.” She stared at the griddle. “What you’ve done is beautiful.”

“I have learned not to burn the bacon and scald the eggs.”

“Please come home. I never meant you to leave. I only wanted you to learn to cook.”

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Brief Interlude

October didn’t work out quite as we had anticipated and carefully planned. We hoped for a five day break in Cornwall, one of my favourite parts on Britain.  It was a last minute booking due to work pressures on Peter and timescales on three big projects.  I decided on The Cormorant Hotel in Golant, near Fowey (pronounced Foy), right by the river and named after the main seabird that inhabits the area.  Luxury boutique-style hotel, seems the trend at moment, but small with friendly staff.  We had a river view room with a Juliet balcony overlooking the garden and wonderful coastline leading down to the sea.  

The weather had taken a severe turn for the worst and the south west was landfall for Ophelia but early last week she had not arrived.  The journey down was beautiful crossing moors including Bodmin Moor famous for Jamaica Inn. Interesting small towns along the route offered coffee and lunch. Finding the hotel was like a treasure hunt despite directions but eventually we arrived and settled in for the night.  Pre-dinner drinks offered unexpected entertainment in Anne and Ron from New Zealand.  Anne is an international judge of Airedales and the couple were enjoying a break in her judging schedule.  They had arrived from Baltimore that day and were due in Yorkshire at the end of the week.  We spent an interesting hour listening to hilarious stories of the world of top dog shows including Russia as well as their lives in Australia as breeders and farmers. Time for dinner.

Wonderful menu choices but I opted for local scallops, mixed fish chowder with honey pannacotta for desert, topped off with an excellent bottle of Spanish Rosé. Sorry photo of scallop starter gone wrong!

Next day after a breakfast including lots of local produce we set off of Fowey, home of Daphne Du Maurier.  Peter was feeling a little unwell but we set off as planned towards Mousehole (pronounced Mowzle) where we had booked a small, fisherman’s cottage.  Fowey was well worth another visit as I didn’t make it to the Du Maurier Museum.  The weather turned showery so we made our way to Falmouth for lunch and a wander.  Next was Penzance, Newlyn then Mousehole as there are great artists galleries as well as home of the Newlyn Artists. We had planned a coastal walk to really visit these the following day so went to find our cottage.  It was better than expected, so comfortable and well equipped with a scrumptious hamper of local food and a good bottle of wine.  We planned to light a fire in the hearth following a forage for food from the deli in the village which was highly recommended.  I became more concerned over the next few hours about Peter but we continued as planned.

During the night Peter developed a high fever and finally told me he had difficulty peeing, was in pain and it was getting worse.  He insisted on waiting until morning before trying to see a doctor.  Early in the morning I made the decision to take him to Penzance Hospital.  We arrived at 9am and he was seen at 9.15am.  The staff  were wonderful, Peter has “Men’s Problems” as he insists on referring to his symptoms.  The doctor fitted a catheter and told us to visit our own doctor when we got home, if we were residents there he would have carried out further tests. We left hospital at 12.15 and I knew Peter wanted to go home although he said no.  We packed up and drove home, 6 hours in the storm which had hit with a vengeance.  Our own doctor has referred him urgently to the local hospital but his appointment is not for another week.Then the catheter will be removed, testing will begin, diagnosis then treatment.  I hope by November we will know what lies ahead.

Another added issue has been with our internet, now fixed.  We have had to buy a new television, phones and await the next thing! October has been a challenge!!

Moving On

 

The Big Birthday has passed amidst great celebrations that lasted over a month! Guess what – I feel so lucky still and mysteriously the same person inside as I did at 69! Maybe a bit wiser!!

Food played a huge part as I dined in “different countries” from Spain, France, Mexico, America as well as Britain. Cuisine I mean of course. I’ve eaten fish, tapas, burritos, vegetarian, pizza, pasta and delicious deserts. I have tasted some wonderful wines, cocktails and gins. Now back to reality, lose extra weight and think about the next decade.

Moving on is necessary for many reasons. One year on from my breast cancer I  had my first check up and all seems well thank goodness.  I have had time to reflect on the events of last year helped by a week house sitting in Bristol, which remains one of my favourite cities. Peter stayed at home so I had lots of time to think and work out what next.  I made a list of priorities which I hope to tick off as I put them into practice. Number one is to use what time I have left (who knows what time any of has?) to live my life to the full but in ways that may not seem to be achieving all the time. Small things like walking, seeing friends, yoga, my choir and my family are valuable experiences in my tapestry that I weave and expand daily.  Some of you might wonder why I talk about these as achievements but it is easy to take things for granted so I plan to improve therefore achieve. I realise I was in danger of being in a rut. Fatigue is a lasting side effect of radiotherapy and it has become easier at times to say to myself I feel so tired I can’t be bothered but when I try I always feel better – small steps maybe but good.  Not great achievements but an important lesson. Learn to value what one has particularly oneself.

So in Bristol I did some things I have wanted to do for a while. I took a trip around the Docks in the sunshine and viewed the city from a different angle. The Matthew replica of John Cabot’s ship that sailed the Atlantic in the 15th century and “discovered” Newfoundland, now part of Canada, was especially interesting from water level.  The Docks, many converted to museums, galleries, cafes and apartments echo with the bustling commercial wealth the city.  Now technology rules but a sense of community was essential for daily life and is part of the area just different. The SS Great Britain, one of Brunel’s great developments, is now a museum but it was huge when viewed from water level.  An interesting commentary was provided by a young man in charge of the boat which brought past events and people to life.  One thing that was pleasing about the trip was the number of different nationalities just in a short hour who shared the experience with me.  Despite some of the awful events over past weeks we all enjoyed being together sharing a good time.  I revisited Bristol Gallery to see a few of my favourite paintings, also the Red Lodge parts of which are Tudor with a replica knot garden. I walked back through the city streets, multicultural, busy, varied and interesting.  A fascinating cityscape.

One guilty secret of my time: I “binge read” a series of crime books by Peter May known as the Enzo Files, 6 books! Home now I look forward to the challenges ahead.

Held In Suspension

March has slipped into April already (how did that happen so quickly?) and spring has well and truly arrived. A few April showers and a lovely weekend gladdens the heart, raising the spirit. It’s been a glorious time for spring bulbs and flowers, the forsythia hedge at its best. I love this hedge at this time of year but during winter it’s bare, boring once leaves have been shed in autumn. At least for the rest of summer it’s a bright green. It’s been a fabulous season too for hyacinths and daffodils and primulas and now the tulips are out along with the sweet-scented wallflowers.

Now all this profusion of colour should be making the Domino household happy but since the new year, we’re living as if in suspended animation, with our breaths held, waiting … waiting. You see, last summer my husband was diagnosed with circulatory problems in his leg and the suggestion made he needed a stent fitted: a simple op under local anaesthetic as a day patient. He had an MRI scan in July, and there the story came to an abrupt halt. We assumed he was on the waiting list and, not being urgent, his time would come around in due course. So we waited… and waited…

Just after Christmas, our GP rang to ask what was happening – Had Dave been for his scan? What was the outcome? – because our GP hadn’t been informed by the hospital. I told him we’d heard nothing, not even if he was on the waiting list. Our GP said he would chase the consultant and find out the situation. More waiting… At the end of February, we were advised the op was scheduled for 17th March. Two days before this, a phone call revealed it had been put back to 28th and he would be under a different consultant surgeon. And so more waiting…

Meanwhile, we tried to carry on as normal, although Dave found it hard, he now has difficulty walking and his job involves a lot of it. On 26th March, a further call advised the op was put back yet again to 4th April. Oh boy! This was not good. Neither of us could focus on anything much. Always waiting for the postman. Hoping the telephone wouldn’t ring with a further delay. Waiting… dreading… waiting…

Last week, we had a long meeting with the surgeon, who explained for the first time what the op entailed, why the delay and why he had taken over Dave’s case. This was a good meeting because up until that point we had no real idea of what was involved: a long 4-hour two-part major surgical procedure under general anaesthetic, far more complicated than just a stent fitted. At least we knew the good outcomes now and what could go wrong. Worrying.

And yes, more waiting… but this time it was good waiting time. It enabled Dave to get a lot of planting done, potatoes, broad beans, onions in along with some summer bulbs. It also meant he could join the family in celebrating my mother’s 91st birthday last Sunday, especially too as my brother was over from Spain as a surprise for her again. It was. And a lovely day had by all, sadly no photos this time.

The 4th is tomorrow. I have to take Dave to hospital at 7 am. He will be in for several days followed by at least 6 weeks at home recuperating. So you can understand why we feel life has been on hold these past few months. At least we’re there now, we hope. Our only fear is that even though  he’s first on the list for the day, should a bigger emergency take precedence, he may be put back yet again.

The waiting’s almost over, but not quite. But then afterwards, at least we will slowly be able to get our lives back to normal, breathe a sigh of relief and enjoy the summer.

 

 

Strong Women Stay Young…at least that’s the plan!

Inspired by the book by Miriam E. Nelson, I decided that this was the year I’d finally firm up the flab. In Strong Women Stay Young, Dr. Nelson writes that a simple strength training program can replace fat with muscle, reverse bone loss and improve balance and energy. Good enough for me, so I embarked on my program. I bought dumbbells and diligently began daily biceps, triceps, and trapezius strengthening exercises. But it all seemed a little too easy and, to be honest, I didn’t feel like much was happening in the strengthening department. It made me wonder if the recommended 1kg weights to start were heavy enough. So I bought some 3kg weights (my lovely mum decided she wanted in on the action too, so we got her some 2kg weights in a buy one pair get another half price deal).

Suitably enthused, off I went again with my heavier weights only to find that after half a dozen repetitions I could barely hold my arm up (and I had to do a total of 24!). Back to the drawing board. By this time, the man in the sports shop was getting intrigued by yet another visit from the pensioner with an obsession for buying dumbbells, and he asked me if I was planning to enter an iron woman contest or something. Very funny. Anyway, the 2kg weights I’ve bought now seem to be doing the trick, and they’re in a pretty shade of girlie pink into the bargain.

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I’ll let you know how I get on and there’ll be a fanfare when I move up to the 3kg weights. Oh, and you can see that the 1kg weights haven’t completely been ignored…Ms. Vivvy decided to have a little chew on the ends just to ensure they weren’t a complete waste of money 🙂

What Was The Heck Was That About?

We all dream when we are asleep, the majority of us not remembering them at all, not even being aware we have been dreaming. Most are good dreams, some scary, some real nightmares, some that make you think you are actually awake and everything happening is real, and others making you glad you have awoken… the list goes on.

What I have noticed is my dreams always seem to be triggered by events that have happened during the day, albeit a conversation or thinking of  someone, some action or incident, a news report, watching a movie… anything at all. If I do remember a dream, which isn’t often, I like to try to make sense of it, work out what inspired that thought to manifest itself in my sleeping state.

Then there are the repetitive ones, always different yet always following the same theme. I used to have these types regularly, usually ones where my teeth crumble and fall out, supposedly a sign of stress or worry. Another where I am looking at new homes but there are never any stairs and I have to climb up like a contortionistic rock-climber to reach the next floor – I never have found out what that one is supposed to mean. Lately, I have been experiencing ones where I am always searching for someone. Again, I have no idea of its interpretation. Whatever it is, it doesn’t worry me too much. A dream is just a dream, after all.

The worst type for me, and I am certain everyone has experienced this sort, is the weird dreams you have early the morning, usually after having awoken from a good night’s sleep, you drift back into that dozing type of relaxed state, or when cat-napping. Odd, peculiar, almost drug-induced highs of tripping out on something and your sleeping world morphs into a crazy, mixed-up, nonsensical mixture of the impossible.

I had one of these the other morning and its very nature has stayed with me all week. I’m still trying to make sense of it. Was it trying to tell me something? If so, what? You see, I dreamt a dandelion plant was growing out of the back of my hand, with an offshoot springing up on my little finger. Okay, I hear you say, I’m a keen gardener, and probably detest weeds. Perhaps I had been gardening the previous day, been to a garden centre, doing or thinking anything to do with plants and weeds. I hadn’t. I hadn’t been in the garden, or even near the garden… it had been blowing gales all week and tipping with rain. But that isn’t the whole dream – whole being the operative word, not a pun. Oh no. The next bit was absolutely crazy! In my dream I pulled the dandelion clean out of my hand, pulling it up, along with the little offshoot, creating a hole right through my hand, and little finger. They didn’t bleed. The holes were clean and perfectly formed, and sealed, no gooey flesh or gunk oozing out. And there it ended.

Weird or what? I’d love to know what that was all about. Any ideas?

Spring On Its Way

Gosh, doesn’t time fly! I can’t believe January has melted into February already. Talking of melting, so far this winter here in South West England we’ve escaped snow, apart from one day when we awoke to an icing sugar dusting which disappeared by lunchtime. It’s been chilly but not cold, but certainly miserable, damp, wet and grey and occasionally windy.

Which all means in the garden spring is well on its way. The front lawn is exploding with snowdrops and the first of many clumps of crocus in full bud about to open with the next burst of sun. The back garden is still in permanent shade until March but that hasn’t stopped the hellebores, with the first of many flowers already open. (Sighs contentedly. I do so love spring!)

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Meanwhile, back indoors, we have hit this year running. It began with the excellent news my husband, diagnosed with diabetes last summer, has beaten it and is no longer diabetic, although he will now always be at risk. He managed this without drugs because he refused to: a) accept he had the condition (there were no outward symptoms or signs), and physically the last person in the world you’d think suffered with this as he’s slim, doesn’t smoke or drink, is fit and walks for a living at work despite being 69 years old and does gardening for recreation; and b) simply refused to take the medication prescribed.

So, how has he achieved this? Purely by diet. He’s a sweet tooth, likes chocolate, especially chocolate cookies, ice-cream, and my baking and dessert efforts thus all were banned from the house. He stopped putting sugar in his coffee, no puds or ice-cream have touched his lips, and I’ve only baked three cakes in nine months, two of which were made using the sugar substitute Xylitol. Thank you so much, Tricia, for putting me on to this sweetener. In fact, the two cakes I made with this were the best and definitely to be made again, according to Dave. One was our Christmas cake, the only “goodie” he ate over the Christmas season, the other being orange cake, the recipe for which Jane told us about here in December. So thank you too, Jane, it was simply delicious, moist, and by switching the sugar to Xylitol, can claim it’s sugar free, fat free, and great for me ­– flour free.

An aside to all this is, because of the change in our eating habits and because I had to help Dave as much as I could, I have managed to lose a little weight. As Dave is determined not to go back to his old ways the diet changes remain in place, hopefully more of my extra poundage should continue to shrink. A new me for 2017, starting with a change of hairstyle. For many years I’ve kept my hair short but never liked it, so I’ve been growing out the layers. At the moment it’s untidy and the style wanted not there yet but, like spring,  it’s well on its way.

2017-02-01-11-51-43I’ve also taken a big plunge and booked a table at a local arts & craft fair in June, to show and (hopefully) sell some of my paintings (and a few copies of my book, with luck!). This will be a difficult day for me as I’m shy and nervous among strangers when “on display”.  Plus, I’ve entered a few competitions, with the hope of winning a painting holiday abroad (something I would love to do), and I’ve entered one of my works into a national painting competition. My fingers  are crossed, but not too much else I shan’t be able to hold my paintbrush for the next one.

On top of all this, I’ve been busy editing a novel for a client and am busy proofing my own next bestseller (she says, laughing) whilst knuckling down to working on the other books waiting in the wings. So all in all, this gal’s been on a roll and doesn’t intend stopping. Not yet anyway.

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