Leap Day Resolutions

All over the British Isles people have been taking part in Leap Day activities and making Leap Day resolutions. Well, that’s what they’ve said on some news programmes that I’ve been listening to this month.

This got me wondering about what times of leaps I would be prepared to take this special day. Tradition has it that women can be the one to propose on this day and if rejected they must be provided with twelve pairs of gloves (so that they can hide their ring less hands all the year around). This, and other traditions have made me smile as I have thought about what I can and will do with this extra day of the month.

I already wear gloves, but not to hide the lack of any rings, more to ward of the bitter winds and cold. So I rejected that idea that would make me the recipient of a dozen pairs of gloves (and my proposal has already been accepted, so it was not necessary on this particular day anyway).

A friend of mine indicated that he was waiting for my proposal to him, but he did send the message from his fortified bunker in the middle of nowhere so I knew that he was not really open to any approach from me. Nevertheless, we can continue to live in hope. Isn’t that right P?

Anyway, back to reality. The radio programmes were encouraging people to take advantage of the extra day in February and use it as an excuse to do something they had never done before. And many did. One woman, who was blind, enjoyed her first tandembike ride; a man, who suffers from panic attacks, depression and agoraphobia, travelled on a bus to a local town for the first time in four years. Another man told his colleagues that he is gay and has been with his partner for nearly 20 years. At several schools the children, teachers and support staff leapt to different classrooms for lessons and undertook each others’ roles for an hour.

There have been so many leaps.

But, here’s a gift for you, you don’t have to wait for another 4 years to make your own leap – you can do it now! But you knew that, didn’t you?

It’ll be great to share what extraordinary leaps you’ve taken. Feel free to let me know about your daily or yearly leaps and I’ll keep telling you about mine: it’s only fair.

Maroon day

People tell me that they learn new things about me from reading this blog. Some also say that they learn new things about themselves as well.

I learn new things about myself as I write them as well. I don’t go through like thinking ‘ah, that would make a good blog,’ but sometimes it does occur to me to share a certain incident here. This is one such time.

And here is a health warning ... if you are of a nervous disposition or unsettled by talk of blood then now is the time to go to another post. Click to the right of this entry and you will see lots of different options going back years that may well be more suitable for you.

For those intrepid readers that have stayed the course, hang on it may be a bumpy ride.

Although, in the UK today, it is Comic Relief Day where people do funny things for money and often wear red noses I was not taking part in those oh so jovial activities this morning. My colour was maroon. I will explain.

I had an early blood test booked. This meant no eating or drinking before it. That’s all good, I don’t normally eat breakfast that early anyway. I’ll skip the boring bits and get to the juicy (pun intended) bit.

As the maroon-looking blood was pouring steadily out of my arm into the vial I mentioned that I was curious about the Vitamin D test that was ordered. The phlebotomist pulled the needle out of my arm and looked confused. That was a mistake. Not the confusion, but the extraction of the needle.

She told me to keep pressure on my vein while she checked her computer, and there it was the test request I’d just mentioned. She tutted and said I should have told her before. I said I had informed the receptionist when I booked. More tutting followed and I watched as she went to get another needle.

Suddenly I said, “It’s spurting,” as the blood pushed its way pass the cotton wool and through my fingers. The shock of it caused me to move my hand and then there was a small fountain erupting from the middle of my left arm.

“Oh, that’s not good,” was all I could manage as it continued.

She flustered, pulled the forgotten tourniquet off my arm and grabbed copious amounts of tissue and cotton wool to mop up the blood. This is when I learnt that I am OK with seeing other people’s blood but I am really no good at seeing my own. Actually, I didn’t learn that today, I was reminded of it because when I was a teenager I used to have random and spontaneous nosebleeds and I felt just the same about those as well – unsteady.

Although the blood was a beautiful shade of maroon I was rapidly going towards a grey shade but somehow I managed to see that she was more concerned than I thought was healthy for either of us right then. So I decided to become calm. And that’s what I did. I grabbed hold of calm thoughts and controlled my situation.

Once the stem was staunched (less than a minute but it’s surprising how much blood can flow from my ‘good veins’ in that time when a tourniquet is attached!) I mentioned that I felt a bit weak. You’ll remember that I hadn’t eaten or drank anything yet. This news sent her into another spin and she rushed off to get me water.

When she returned she said that her manager would take the next lot of blood from my other arm later as I would need to rest and recover. I didn’t want to wait around so I further controlled my breathing and told her that I was OK for her to do it now. She wasn’t sure but I didn’t want to get up and go to the waiting room to go through all that again. And strangely, I thought it would be helpful to her if she did it because I was one of the first appointments of the day and that maybe have unsettled her to have had a blood eruption so early.

You’ll be pleased to know that all went well in the second arm and the extra blood was taken without any further problems.

For a few moments I was considering being right royally annoyed with her because I thought that if they had read their notes properly I wouldn’t have had to go though that experience, however, from it I learnt that my blood is a beautiful rich maroon colour when it is forced out of my veins, and I also found out that I can still care for people’s emotional state when I am in the middle of my own drama. That was interesting in itself.

Most interesting was that I still felt shaky when I left the office and I know the staff were watching me all the way to the car. The phlebotomist had a bit of cleaning up to do when I left but at least she was smiling (with relief) instead of frowning.

What today also reminded me of when I used to donate blood, afterwards we would be given a sweet drink and a digestive. I can’t eat them anymore (because of the milk in them) but I really needed a high energy breakfast as soon as I got home: that fruit smoothie tasted extra good today.

... And I had matching plasters on my arms where I had the needles stuck in so I felt completely balanced for the rest of the day.

It’s all good.

Leopards in your life

When you are unwell you develop a familiarity with the illness that has visited you.

You know all about it. You learn all about it. Despite this intimate bond, this closeness, you want the unwelcome visitor gone as soon as possible.

With a cold or the flu you know the symptoms and the approximate length of stay. You follow the course of the visit with interest, waiting for the tell-tale signs that the virus is packing up and ready to leave. You celebrate its departure with long deep breaths and cough-free nights. And you remind yourself that it was an unpleasant visit and do your best to avoid it in the future.

With chronic illnesses you sometimes try to forget that it is part of your being. When you have lived with it for any extended amount of time for the most part you ignore it. You work your way through life adapting to its hold on your existence. This may not seem like a good way to treat a guest but sometimes it is the only way.

Like the leopards in the rainforest that adapt to any kind of environment and eat almost any kind of food, so it is with some sicknesses that we have to endure. Leopards attack things much bigger than themselves and are not easily defeated. But they can be overcome with the right tactics, skills and knowledge.

In order to attack the leopard illness you have to really understand how it works. Sometimes it seems like you sneak up on it unawares and attack it with both medication and positivity, especially when it appears like there is an optimism drought within you and around you.

As humans we have a unique talent to overcome the most daunting situations. We have untapped resources within us. We often reach into our unknown reserves when the prospects seem final. And repeatedly we triumph.

Parents single-handedly lift cars off their trapped children as the adrenalin courses through them in the high stress situation. At times like this the normal boundaries of our voluntary capabilities are surpassed and our limitations alter.

When we become the leopards in our own jungles, in our own lives, we can adapt and survive most odds against us. Threats make new resources accessible within us. We must use these resources. We need to embrace the mental agility to use the available information and directly focus our newly found energy against whatever threatens us and we will survive to walk in peace another day.

Passion

True passion – for there is no other type of passion – is like an eclipse. The passion controls your attention as everything else fades to the background. Other things are not totally blocked out but, for a while, they are less significant in importance than this new interest.

New passions are always exciting. When a new passion grabs my attention I get swept along on the tidal wave of emotion. I want to immerse myself totally in this new subject, activity, or person. The adrenalin levels peak and most other things in my life become like the corona of the sun. The amount of time invested in an activity is directly related to the intensity of the passion.

Passion does not ever end - if an interest ends then I would suggest that it was just that, an interest, not a passion.

Even after the passing of time, the change of location, the alteration of circumstances, the passion will remain. It may smoulder out of the direct eye line of many, but within the heart of the one who feels it, the passion never dies.

With a familiar passion there are constant reminders of what first ignited that fire of desire. These things can occur at any time, in any place, and they are brilliant assailants. They storm my hidden places and the familiar excitement will make my pulse run faster, make my eyes shine brighter and graft that deep wide smile of satisfaction throughout my whole being.

Passion is beautiful.

Passion is life enhancing.

Passion is passionate.

Embrace passion and enjoy the ride.

“True art, like passion, is equally permanent.”

John Bayley. The Red Hat.