Rumination rules-again

Last week was the first day of Spring-allegedly. On the Friday, the second day of spring, it snowed. What affrontery!! I was so ready for anything but snow! So I decided to go out while it was still snowing-before it turned to ice-and just buy basics, like eggs and milk. And that was my Friday.

On Saturday it really snowed-and I mean, really...in some parts of the country people have no electricity because the power cables have been knocked down. In North London it was very unpleasant, and I decided that I might be wise to just stay in and let other people fall on the ice and break things-like arms, and legs, and other parts of the anatomy. So I waited, not terribly patiently, and by Sunday morning some genius in Haringey Council had finally decided to put down some grit, so I was able to get out. By then, who wanted to go anywhere? It was bloody freezing!!!!!

Well...as you bloggees can tell, I didn't blog. I ruminated instead. I started to feel really sorry for myself as soon as the snow started to fall. When my balance goes (in a big way), I know that conditions are not good for walking, and that I have ignored the cardinal rules of dealing with the total lack of a balance system: lots of rest, lots of water, eating properly, doing as much exercise as I can force myself to do-and no walking when conditions are treacherous. Every time I seem to gain some ground in one area, I suddenly lose it. It is very discouraging, to say the least.

So I decided to go to drop in on the Unitarians on Sunday. I was depressed - but mostly, I was bored. So I thought that if I forced myself to go somewhere, I might feel better. And that experience taught me something really valuable: I can stop myself from ruminating, and feeling huge amounts of self-pity, from boring myself rigid, from stuffing my face with Kettle Chips (and chocolate, and anything else that isn't nailed down), by forcing myself to get out of the house and do something constructive. I've known this, but I have chosen to ignore it-until now.

So-I went to church. And I got there about twenty minutes before the service was due to start-AND-I got pressed into service. I am now in the choir. Stop laughing. I was actually pretty good (or the music director was very polite). We didn't sing hymns, but sang short uplifting songs-and we sang Bridge Over Troubled Water, which is as un-churchy as you can get. I didn't need the music for that one, since it is a long time favorite.

After the service was over, I asked the woman singing next to me whether I was singing flat. She said that I was great-and asked me if I ever sang in a choir before (I sang in church when I was in my teens. That was enough to put me off religion forever). Well, anyway-I felt better, and I did okay. I am now asked to sing every week-every week I show up, that is. There is no hard and fast rule about always coming to church - and it is very secular - I quite liked it. People were friendly-unlike some places I have been before!!

I walked from the bus station at Finsbury Park home-about two or three miles, I suppose. I wanted to make up for not walking all weekend-but I can tell you, I froze my ass off. All I wanted to do was have a good strong coffee and sit in front of the heater when I got home.

On Monday, something happened to ruin my entire week. I received a copy of Matt's letter (Matt being my immunologist) to Margaret, my GP. It seems that I have a liver problem, one that is shared by many people who were born with CVID. Matt wrote that I would need an annual ultrasound to keep an eye on it. He "accidentally" forgot to tell me this when I last saw him a couple of weeks ago. I wonder what else he has "accidentally" omitted to tell me since I started seeing him! So I called my nurse at the Royal London and we spent a good twenty minutes discussing the problem-which, if left untreated, could lead to really HUGE problems in the future. John told me not to worry; a lot of CVID patients have this, it's part of the condition. But, then, so is cancer. So I wasn't very happy. The fact that I rarely drink is a bonus, although John told me that a glass of wine a day is fine-good for the heart, but what about the liver!!

You know the saying about being stuck between a rock and a hard place? I feel more like I am stuck between two very high cliffs and very deep precipices, and I am being forced to choose which way to fall. Either way, the end result is pretty shitty. So I only went out when I had to-I spent the past few days brooding. Brooding is not good. Happy thoughts didn't help a bit.

I just got online after a week of ruminating and feeling really very grumpy. And I decided to do something constructive, so I looked up the liver condition to see just how serious things really are. Isn't WebMD fun!!

I did discover a lot that cheered me up-in fact, I wish I had done this on Monday, so I would have had a more productive week (self-pity is never productive!!). I'm not a drinker, and I'm not obese, and I have low cholesterol and I don't have diabetes. So-I can reverse the liver problem before there is long term damage. How? Alas!!! No more Kettle Chips!! Or fried food. Or sugar (so no more chocolate). Or red meat (I don't eat that anyway, especially since they serve horsemeat in this country, disguised as beef. Ewww!!!).  More green vegetables, more whole fruits (supermarket juices are full of sugar), lots and lots of water. I will be floating. In fact, you will be able to find me in the bathroom, peeing. At least my kidneys are healthy!!!

I started to suddenly feel old last weekend-and Monday especially. Now I feel better, because I took action, rather than waiting for someone else to do something. I did it myself. There is nothing better for self-confidence than being proactive. Get out there (I told myself). Do something. Walk. Do everything that makes me dizzy, and do it a hundred times (if I can do so without falling over). Just do it. And don't complain. Nobody wants to be around a moaner.

I read an article in some magazine while I was sitting and waiting to see Margaret. Some well-known actress was saying that 60 is the new 40 (believe me when I say that, even with airbrushing, she looked 60). That means, of course, that 50 is then the new 30. So is 40 the new 20? Then what about 20-are people going to go around in Pampers? Eeek. Well, so 50 is the new 30-etc. Then 80 is the new 60-etc. Aren't people dying young these days?

I had to smile at the article-and the actress, someone who is completely unknown to me (I wonder why). John told me that I can live a normal lifespan as long as I take very good care of myself and I'm vigilant about any signs of anything untoward. It's the slowness of the neuroplasticity, the slowness of getting more balance back, that bothers me more than cancer, which is something I've had before, and which I'm told is inevitable.

Excuse me, but nothing is inevitable (except death, of course, and I won't go quietly. Unless I'm 100. And on a Harley, riding through Big Sur with my 75 year old boyfriend sitting behind me).

All things considered, I'm in very good shape. I'm still here. And I'm not going anywhere.