In plain sight

I had to have blood taken today, but when the nurse called me I remained seated. Luckily she did not remember me, although I remembered her all too well from my Maroon Day last year when she was less than focused on the situation.

It is because of this that I specifically asked to see another nurse this morning.

I named the one I did not want to see, and the reasons why. The Dr laughed and said that he had to remain professional but he could see that there were possible reasons why many people didn’t want that particular nurse.

I was glad.

So when I turned up this morning I was pleased to book myself in with the correct nurse.

That’s when it all went wrong.

My nurse, a kindly and gentle woman, was being called on by this other nurse to help her with patients and then, for me, disaster struck. Nurse W (my selected practitioner) began to run late with her appointments. I was in the waiting room for nearly an hour before I first heard my name being called.

Instead of rising to my feet I looked downwards and ignored the call.

It’s a strange sensation hearing your name being called and totally ignoring it. I knew that it was me, and not some other Marjorie Morgan, that was being summoned, but it was Nurse X who was striding across the waiting room yelling out my name.

As I sat there, trying not to draw attention to myself, I noticed other patients looking around. I think I was more obvious than invisible because I realise now that I was the only one not looking around for this mysterious Marjorie Morgan: I knew where I was.

Nurse X went back to Nurse W and from down the corridor I could hear her saying, “The patient you asked me to see ... I’ve called her, but she’s not here. Have you already seen her? That’s strange. I’ll ask the other nurses.” From the one-sided conversation I knew they couldn’t understand where I was. Yet, I stayed still.

I hadn’t yet decided how I was going to announce my presence to the receptionist again, but I knew I was not going in to see Nurse X and so I sat and listened to the search for me.

“I’ll call her once more,” said Nurse X as she came back to the door of the waiting room.

“Marjorie Morgan!” she bellowed. Heads all seemed to turn towards me. No movement. I stared straight ahead. “Well,” Nurse X exclaimed, “that’s strange. I’ll just get the next patient. John Smith?”

As the door closed behind them both I got ready to get up and go to the desk. I knew the other patients would find this a strange situation but I didn’t care. However, I was saved from that move because at that moment Nurse W came to the door with the Dr laughing behind her, “Marjorie”, she said as she looked at me.

“Yes,” I replied as I walked towards her smiling face.

“The Dr just told me the story. Sorry for the wait. Could you just sit here while I finish with another patient?”

I sat outside her consulting room as she dealt with another of Nurse X’s patients and waited some more. I didn’t mind waiting. I just was determined not to see the giver of pain that day.

Nurse W said later that she would say I was in the toilet or something. I said I’d rather she didn’t lie for me, but I knew that it could be professionally sensitive for the other nurse (and the rest of the staff team) if she knew the real reason for my refusal to see her.

With numerous vials of blood drawn I walked back through the waiting room and met several glances of curiosity that were dying to know why I was in plain sight (and hearing) but refused to answer Nurse X’s call.

They may never know until they, like me and several other patients, experience the rough and unforgettable treatment at the hands of Nurse X.

I’ve never done that before. Been in plain sight and purposely hidden. It felt odd. But I was protecting myself, so that felt right.

Unexpected catches

The sun was shining, the windows were wide open and we were driving along the road when all of a sudden I saw a single leaf being tossed and blown ahead of me. It was high up but was falling as we got closer.

Some madness in me made me stick my hard out of the window and reach for it as we approached the spot. I caught it!

Laughing out loud I pulled my hand back into the car as I looked with amazement at the leaf in my hand.

I never really believed I would touch it, but there it was, in my hand.

My smile lasted for ages. We released the autumn leaf back into the light breeze as we continued down the road. A wish for more happiness on our lips.

I realised that that was a marvellous and unexpected catch.

While on a walk later that same day my eye caught something else falling from the sky. Again I reached up and a single white feather landed in my hand. More laughter followed at my good fortune.

Sometimes life is festooned with unexpected pleasures and opportunities. I’ve found that I just need to look out for them and be ready to catch them. It’s all good!

Nature lessons

Walking through the streets the other day I saw magpies, blackbirds, thrushes, and pigeons. They were flying in seemingly random style them they all alighted in the same tree. Have you ever noticed that different birds can share the same tree without quarrelling?  Why can’t people do that as well?

On nature walks we often see several species of ducks happily cohabiting together. They sleep, eat and feed together. Yet as humans can’t seem to get on at all and then we have the gall to say that we are the higher intelligence. It makes me wonder.

I did it to myself

I am suffering and I did it to myself so this is not a pity party post.

I do not use a lot of sugar in my foods. I usually have sugar in herbal teas ... and that’s it. But the other day I decided that I wanted something sweet. Fine, you may say, and it would have been if I indulged in moderation, but I guess I am an excessive person in particular things – especially those I have avoided for a while.

Just to make it clear, I don’t crave sugar at all. I can do without it – in fact I don’t usually consider it as part of my eating habits. It’s useful in some cooking, but that’s about it as far as I’m concerned. Don’t I sound righteous? Well, before you envy me let me tell you that some decades ago before I was a vegan I was also a chocoholic! Belgian chocolates – especially Guylian (a whole 500g box would sit on my desk for ... well, long hours – until I’d eaten them all!),

Cadbury’s Whole Nut, Bounty bars, Flakes, Marathons (aka Snickers), Aero, Crunchies, Yorkies, Kit Kats and Maltesers. The list was varied and almost endless. I stopped only because although I enjoyed eating it the after effects were terrible. My migraines would last for weeks. Some things, no matter how wonderful they are, are really not worth the pain you get in your life.

Now I have a headache just thinking about the chocolate.

But I seemed to forget that last week when I went into the shop and stopped at the pic’n’mix section. I just wanted something sweet. I missed the taste ... and it was right there just waiting for me to get it. On the way home I had a few sweets. They raced around my body giving me a pleasantly strange sensation so I ate some more. My later meal seemed bland compared to the immediate highs of the sugar rush.

A few hours later I started to come down. The headache arrived and my body felt sluggish. I just wanted to sleep it off. I felt sick and you know what? Yes, that’s right I wanted to get rid of that feeling so I thought of eating some more sweets! Ridiculous I know but that’s where I was at that moment. I wanted to feel good (sugar did that) I wanted to do it immediately (it was accessible) so ... I went to the cupboard and opened it up, reached in and – closed the bag tightly.

Then I poured myself a glass of water and drank that instead.

No way did that give me the rush that I craved, but I knew it was better for me in the long run. I felt cheated. Normally water is refreshing, this time it felt like a very poor substitute for my desires.

So, that’s where I am now, still crashing from my sugar high. And I am asking myself was it really worth it?

Guardian of the Times?

Last weekend I was unable to get either the Saturday Guardian or the Sunday Observer. So I did something unusual: I bought the Sunday Times.

Despite (you can guess how this will end from the first word of this sentence) the pleasure of Dame Maggie Smith, Julia Roberts and a fascinating analysis of Lady Gaga, I felt ill at ease within those pages.

Maybe it was the acerbic wit of AA Gill that finally put the nail in the coffin of the reading experience but I know that in the future I’d rather go without a weekend paper than sink to the depths of The Times. The whole tone of those volumes was bitter and a space that this Guardian reader should never venture into again.

It feels a bit like leaving Radio 4 for Radio 1: it’s just wrong. It doesn’t work. It can never feel comfortable.

I feel sullied.

My Village Green

Welcome to my garden fence ...

Although this space is limited in some aspects – for example, we can’t lend sugar over this virtual garden fence - we can lend advice, links, share photos and find out about each other’s health; in this space we have different capabilities.

Before the technological age took us away from our small communities we had much more communication with other people – from our family to our friends and even strangers,

This garden fence can also help us to indulge in the great British obsession of talking about the weather ... or least knowing what the weather is like in each “garden” that we inhabit or visit.

We need this garden fence to keep in touch with each other. This has become our social lifeline and to some people it is essential to their psychological and social well-being. It is an important and valuable therapeutic activity to link us to each other. Without the contact that we gain from using our internet and text “garden fences” we could become isolated and totally lose our sense of belonging to any type of community.

Facebook, as a primary social networking site, is akin to the old village-green. Here is the place that we have those casual conversations and we can do a quick catch up on what’s going on with each other on our way to another place. Like the pubs and cafes in soap-operas Facebook is the place where we get up-to-date on gossip.

Gossip is not a bad thing - it is healthy for us to share. In this modern technological way we can become firmly joined to our new and virtual village; this contact restores our sense of community and gives us that vital connection to others. It can help to relieve the pressures of life and the sense of isolation. In the 21^st century our lives are moving as fast as the technology that we use and therefore we can become socially isolated as we strive to exist in an increasingly fragmented society.

The use of texts and the social-networking sites have extended the contact from the garden fence to the worldwide village-green.

I like to pass through every so often and it’s nice to share some time here with you. I’ll see you again soon.

New roots

I had obviously done something wrong but was not sure what it was. Maybe it was too much water after a period of drought or maybe it was just time for the end of this particular season of growth.

All I did know was that the plant was dying – right there in front of me.

I decided to try to rescue it. Well, some of it anyway. Some of the plant was evidently beyond saving and so, gingerly, I eased it out of the plant pot and released it into the compost bag.

The bit of plant that I had retained I placed into a cup of water on the kitchen windowsill to see if it would sprout any roots so that I could try to replant it.

It is not that I am particularly attached to this plant because of its origins (it was a gift but I was not attempting this rescue to remember who had given it to me and why). I am used to the greenery in the house and I just want to give it a chance to keep growing. I didn’t feel that its time was over just yet, and the free-flowing leaves and stems just made me happy because they were unrestrained and followed their own route.

Right then I decided that if I managed to encourage the new roots then I would re-pot it and pay much better attention to it this time around. I mean, to give it what it needed to encourage its free growth, rather than to stunt it by oversight and neglect.

Today, on this bright Sunday afternoon, about three weeks had passed since I started the rescue plan, I was now used to seeing the new cuttings on the windowsill but I decided to have a look and see what was happening below the rim of the cup. I raised the still green leaves from the top of the cup and smiled broadly as I saw the many roots that had grown out from the stems that had been quite harshly detached from the main plant.

It makes me happy to know that there is still a big chance that this plant will be successfully transplanted from its original state to a new environment where it will, hopefully, grow and flourish.

As I planned the future location of this fledgling plant I thought about how in the past I have been rooted in one way or another to a particular path and when it came to a time when I had to move the transition had sometimes been uncomfortable and difficult but eventually I settled in my new position. I have had struggles at times to establish my new roots but, thank God, with patience they have come through and I have obtained a firm hold on the new foundation.

Sometimes it looked as if I would flounder and fail to survive but a new channel for my growth was presented at the correct time and I have thrived. It has often been the case – for this has occurred numerous times – that I began to lose hope in myself when my root system no longer sustained my growth. However, I did not give up and I eventually saw that a new way was opened up for me.

It is because of this plant that I am reminded to embrace new beginnings and use the strength within to navigate the unexpected times of feeling rootless and reach across the breach because new opportunities for amazing growth are waiting to be fulfilled in my life.

Ebbs and flows

A river is said to ebb and flow.

It goes backwards and forwards.

So it is with my life sometimes. There is a decline in my emotional state followed or preceded by an emotional high – a forward motion. I often experience a seesaw effect.

There are many positive times, when the river is flowing, when it is present, when all is right with the world. The sun is shining – even in the winter, and the birds are singing cheerful songs outside my window as I snuggle up to the warmth inside.

And then there is the season of the ebb, the decline, the absence, when hope seems to have flowed away with the tide. At these times all I am aware of, all I am conscious of is the uncomfortable rocks, stones and pebbles at the bottom of the riverbed that I feel on the soles of my bare feet.

It is tempting to remember the ebbs in my life more than the flow as when I am in the drought it seems more pronounced. When I am visited by the reality of a lack in my life I stop and think. Sadness often accompanies these thoughts as my heart becomes thirsty for whatever it is I am missing at the time. This is usually the company of a particular person. A person who no longer features in my life in the way I wish they did. At times like this I either go into myself or reach out to friends.

© Marjorie H Morgan

I fight against my own internal tide. It is often hard to make myself reach out when I feel vulnerable, but I am learning to do so. It has proved to be better for me to talk to someone when I feel low. Failing communicating my feelings to a friend, sometimes accompanied by tears and halting sentences, I will find another activity to take my mind of the subject. I know that dwelling on that dry area, that past area, of my life will not bring forth fruit for me in my present presence so I make a resolution:

right now I grasp the weakness in me and send it out to sea.

If I stay with my sad memories I am allowing the matters that I am pondering to become a major part of my internal life. By constantly including the sadness in my thoughts I am giving it the ability to change me. It’s never easy, but it does get less painful with time. Even where I am now, how I feel today, I never thought that I’d reach this position when I first stood in the dry riverbed with only my tears for company. I know I still have a long way to go, but I feel I am moving in the right direction. A positive healthy destination for me.

When my life has swung towards the ebbing times I have reached back into my memory for an occasion when I felt presence not absence. A time when I was conscious of happiness in the ordinary things of everyday life. I reach into my immense sea of happy memories and reflect the blissful moments that I have experienced …and there are so many.

I have a tendency to forget this fact or not want to remember it when I am clouded with sadness. But it is usual that by the time I have revisited and enjoyed these events, the experience that seemed like a dry riverbed will have passed away.

And I will again be present in the bountiful flow of my life.

I will be the river that reshapes my own landscape.

© Marjorie H Morgan