Eye Patch Sleep

I rise with the sun, yet sleep with the night, though Ive always had trouble ascertaining what the bloody hell night is anyway. You cant set arbitrary times for it...you cant set fixed times, the night is subjective. You decide your own dark!!


Recently, my Girl  bought me a very desired eye mask, black material with a cotton stitched "Sammy" across its front, in pink I might add. She knows what will please me in a way nobody else can, and maybe thats the point. However, thats a discussion best served between two people as an affirmation, not as a fleeting glance here. 


So, I rise with the sun on my own terms, I am protected!!! I do however wake consistently due to the fact my neck and arm feel like an electric fire with the heat rods through my nerves..inside I die, like Sonny the frog from League of Gentlemen (cast your mind back..unless you haven't seen it, which means you're missing out on something far greater than sleep.


Summer months wreak havoc. I sleep less, im warm more, I sweat profusely at the idea of heating myself, and i dont know why, though theres many theories, and no matter how much I look online for an answer, there isn't one, except the Botox injection into the area, which sounds like a Freddy Krueger moment, though with the little sleep I have, I dont think I have to worry about him...although it comes to mind that speaking about a fictional character as if he is a tangible existing object, then im screwed anyway. No rest for the wicked, because if you do, "Freddy's coming for you"

Proving a negative

How do you prove a negative?


Some people would cry that trying to is a little silly, dabbling in a world skirting in physics and overtly using grey matter much more useful appropriated to the running of day to day life, though i wont comment on what those lives are filled with. Far be it from me.


Some people ask how do you prove a negative. The most obvious to call to mind being the lottery. Statistically, you have more chance of meeting Elvis in the form of a gerbil, sanguine, fluent in mandarin and somehow a brilliant fuck?


However, you can prove a negative. Some people do win the lottery. Some of them elect the publicity please box and shake their first post-hundred quid bottle of now throwaway wine over the nearest Camelot Executive thinking they too are reveling with you, perhaps not realising you're Britain 498th millionaire and this is the four hundred and ninety ninth pair of J.James shoes ruined (They always come prepared for this eventuality)


I always muse on the life of a Camelot worker. How would it be to work so close to so much wealth being appropriated, yet you cannot take part. Herein maybe lies the crux, perhaps these people are the ones most at ease with the negative proved. They accept it happens, yet they carry on regardless (I'm running unquoted, if you know any Camelot workers, please point them my way, I'd love to pick their brain)


Are these people the happiest people in the country? I really need to know this. How can you work so close to the negative being proved positive all the time, never being in the running for this slim glimpse at happiness, but operate life's wheel away, when in actuality, this isn't the modus operandi of the fates. The fates want you to fail from the outset. A newborn baby is more close to death than to life, but 6 billion people on the planet prove this wrong. We are constantly reminded of death, war, destruction, yet we manage to carve out a life. 


Does surrounding yourself near failure, poor ratings, walking under ladders, eating chips near seagulls...does this make you happier. If you bring unhappiness more to the table, do you truly appreciate the good things. 


Those that fight adversity, overcome horrific disease, walk the globe for charity blah blah blah (sardonic mood, please forgive planet) seem to have that aura of "Fuck You" and nothing bad is ever going to happen to me. You see it all the time, even eleven year olds are now scaling Everest to triumph for Wham Bars for every one and new fly-me helicopters for all children..every one's at proving positives. Are these people truly happy.


Which is it. Which brings happiness. What brings you that tingling buzz when you wake in a morning and think that's its another day and its going to be a good one. Does surrounding yourself near bad things highlight your good things, or does doing good things keep good things away.


Is it easier to enforce a positive than to disprove a negative. Or, are they equal on both sides of the equation.


Personally, today, i had many negatives proved, and i do not feel happier for it. 


Skipping six paragraphs and an ink blot of cliched digital tears on the page, its lead to some positives suddenly occurring to me. Within my skipped paragraphs and blotted tear i have figured something out. Eliminate negatives, you get left with positives. 


(Include area for further post reflection on what brings happiness)


Nothing happens by chance. Life is a formula, put ignorantly and a word for said many times before....


The more you put into your formula, the more you will get out, or the more likely you are to get what you want.


So, to my original point....how to prove a negative. Put simply, you need to embrace the negative. 


Like the Camelot worker...being so close to all those negatives being proved, I want the same. I don't care how many shoes get ruined, I'm going to keep trying. Bring those negatives to you and prove them wrong, doing so, i hope, is going to bring me a plateau of positives. My neck's fucked, that being a negative, but on reflection, i find positives from it. I think It's already begun.


No need for this to start http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AtHfzaBhSxo

Early mornings letting a love lie-in'

A reversal of situations, my girl being up all week at a sordid hour, but she arrives, and I get up early, letting have the full bed to stretch out in and sleep sleep. Not to say I don't get up late through the week, though I do have a differing set of problems. My pain prevents me from going to sleep of a night, though not going to bed I guess. However, no matter what time I sleep, I'll try to wake at a time my girl would wake, part out of empathy, part out of retaining a sense of continuity and grasp on the real world. I want to say something forced and tacky like "What is the real world". Sounds like something Bill Paxon would relish saying at the beginning of some mid-range film. But that doesn't change it none. I don't feel part of the world ticking by, I feel like I'm sat in my own microcosm of a world, it hasn't changed, peripheral moments change, i remain the same. Doctors come and go, ideas, prognosis, diagnosis, treatment, nothing, hopes swell and become swollen and pushed down. I don't change, I melt.

English pride, save St George and attach him with pins to a day where we can all get drunk for no reason other than to actually get drunk

Pissing in alleys between pubs. The proletariats demonstrable method for social commentary. I agree with the News of The World's opinion.

Everyone looks cooler smoking

Smoking in the rain. Delight on a timer with potential moments of misery and faliure. At least it's not windy. Then nature eats my pleasure! Smoking in shit weather is fine. The pleasure of smoking outweighs the farce of getting wet and having the lighter blown out five times before it takes. Trust me, smoking is cool

An Anthology of Dead thoughts: She is my reason

An Anthology of dead thoughts.

 November. It’s dark. It prevents activity. I crave activity, my physical world is slowly drawing in on me, and I resent it. At least the sun allows me to be in the air, let the world turn around me, and so it comes day by day, whatever it may be. Night follows night, follows morphine fog follows medicated numb barbs thrashing for supremacy in my body and I cannot fight it.

 I come to solace with difficulty, though if I whisper quietly, I still hear my own white whale…and I like it…

 Any day is the same of late, I wake, I eat, I think and I lose a little of what I was and surely don’t mourn demise, I wasn’t the human you’d embrace or love, or one you could shrug away, a silent melancholy surrounded me, unperceivable to most, but I carried its weight inside me. Its great jaws ever waiting…I must be wary, keep up my guard. I don’t like what I am when I am myself.

 It was the middle of winter when I cracked, it happened, my life at the time resembling my surroundings, rustic timbre of mechanical humdrum, the vulcanised rubber bristling through the depth of fluid on the cracked grit. Sky cracked and alive, motion and mountains of cloud, pregnant with their load, waiting the call from the maker, the gravity of earth, two objects of mass irresistibly drawn to each other and in my head, I soaked it up, an addition for the additives, a maelstrom of welling grief, I motioned to myself to take this moment, lock it down,  be a victim and savour the moment, then move…

 Herein lays the problem. A human moves and evolves, never stopping and restarting anew. Even when the intention is to change, it’s always a rehash, taking what was, cooking at 190degrees, sieving out the mental broth and throwing across the kitchen. This isn’t change, this is a recipe, and this is formulaic. This is taking what you have and remoulding, not really changing, the most banal expression of change.

 People move, because they transplant their idea, their want into a fresh surrounding, they imagine their life becoming changed, because their surroundings have changed. This cannot be true. You’re surrounding, the a priori of your life, is not you. You are in control, you determine your surroundings, and you control what you allow into your life.

 Yet, before I go, I wanted to walk down to the sea. I was blessed in this case, my proximity to it. On quiet days, you strain your neck, proffer an ear to the blank air and hope you can hear the wave’s crash. Other times, you advance towards it, when suddenly you’re met by a cacophony of noise, the salty water fighting amongst itself. This pleases me the most. As I let gravity pull me down the hill, not making so much effort in my steps as just allowing myself to be carried, I steal the sight of its waters, and steadily, without hesitation, im there.

 Summer was coughing and spluttering, the slow death into the brown hues of autumnal calm, the tides swelled and furrowed deeper each day, the deep blue becoming grey and green and all manners of strength as I look out.

 My place of strength was there, by that sea. I draw a power from its timeless menace, everlasting, unchanging. The sea need not to move, the earth moves around it. So its here I sit, I don’t think, I don’t reflect, I just let it fill me. I could scream at the ocean, it would laugh right back at me. I mean not a moment, not the most meagre portion. It’s this comparison I revel in the most, what could I truly do, in the expanse of it, all that truly matters, when faced with the blue charge. This lesson I know now, but not then.

 I watch the people amble by, coursing through the concrete, grasping their cheap purchase of buckets and spades, their momentary pleasure, something to write home about, something to tell the kids. It seems to me like they’re missing the bigger picture, but I do tend do geta little self righteous…so all are oblivious to the real lesson that is here to be taught in my mind. They're all wildlife, and not in a literal sense. They're cattle for a greater machine oblivious to a world there for their taking, a world for each person, you create your own path, you choose what comes in and out, whats in is uncontrollable, but you have the choice to bring it in to your world, so you have that choice to bring it out. 

Everything happens for a reason. I have many reasons. She is one. She is the ocean. She is endless.

Pain Clinic

Attended the pain clinic, had the pain clinics procedure, feel like someones Voodoo doll, but without any euphoric effects of hearing a great song.

Instead of playing twenty questions with a Neurosurgeon, i played twenty injections with the pain surgeon.

Makes everything else hurt that hurt less before hurt more. General hurt, generally pained. Always pain. Usually as i wake..till the moment i sleep...until i wake throughout the period of time i should sleep, until i wake for the day.. repetitive infinitum

A facebook post pretty much summing up my medical condition twatcrisis for the past year and a half....so excuse the poor english, i was thinktyping

Yeah, i had a paracetamol drip a few weeks ago because they couldn't authorise the morphine till the morning when they got hold of the GP that prescribed me it, and im taking 440mg of Morphine a day in modified release form, horrible stuff..but thats another story..

Prognosis thus far

Two bilateral prolapsed discs c5 and c6..or c6 and c7(can never remember), with them causing bad nerve damage to the root and cord of each of their areas causing the most unimaginable pain when the nerves get jarred, like a hot knitting needle going through my neck, bizarre pain. Also got paresthesia in my right arm (makes my arm feel like a shook up bottle of cola, the pins and needles haven't gone since the beginning) and now paralysis in the c6 affected area in my right arm (which only happened 14months into this nightmare) and neuropathic pain, burning back etc, and to top it off muscle spasms to die for (which is what im having an op for tomorrow) and i get the most horrendous migraines from the neck as well, sometimes i like them in way that its a differing pain to take my mind away from neck pain..but by god its not a fair swap at all, they're the worst things)

The original idea was to wait a few months and take conservative approach, lots of rest and codeine and basically 28 tablets or so for brekkie, lunch and a nutritious dinner as well....and if there was no improvement they would do a double disectomy and replace the discs with some hipbone (the neck bone connected to the.....back bone, the back bone connected to the...hip bone)

This didnt happen.

They then took the conservative approach for the next seventeen months, the neurosurgeon not doing anything but MRI's every three months. He promised me the disectomy come last march in September, but in march he threw in the towel and said he couldn't fix me as...

In February i got a lot worse, Ive been getting worse and worse for months, and the MRI wasn't showing anything getting worse, but the neurosurgeon kept saying wait another three months, but then my right arm went all floppy joe, and i couldn't feel it, then random things stopped working, like cant wee, then can, my gag reflex stops, so sometimes i swallow and it goes directly into my lungs instead of my stomach blah blah, and my GP was and had seen all this and was screaming with me at Sheffield Neurosurgery Department to admit me double quick but my surgeon wouldn't, said if the MRI wasn't showing any worsening or improving then no point..but he was very wrong.

Got referred to a new neurosurgeon after he threw in the towel, then the new guy says he thinks that although i have the two prolapsed discs, the problem is far more extensive (after going over my case notes, GP reports, pain clinic session and operation reports) ad that my nerves are dying off on their own, and that the discs set this off, but he doesn't know why (and MRI's dont see this), so he ordered up a batch of tests which i had last month (nerve conduction, EEG/EMG etc) and then i asked him "why haven't these been done before now, are they new tests?) to which he replied they weren't, and i got more furious than ive ever been, because the previous surgeon hadn't done any of these basic neurological tests in 17months..........so that twat has basically disabled me by his ineptitude..but the new guy couldn't and wouldn't make his colleague culpable, nut once Ive got a final diagnosis im going to raise a massive storm through P.A.L.S...anyway, got the op tomorrow and the results of the neuro tests in a week where i will find out what is bloody happening in my neck, which nerves are working, which aren't, where they're not working, why they're not working blah blah.

Once we know this, we have a diagnosis, and because of that, they will know whether they can do anything surgically at the Neurology Department, or whether its something that cannot be fixed, upon which its a job for a pain clinic to find out if they can eradicate the daily pain....

So i wait with baited breath. Jan16th of 2009 i got admitted. Im still waiting for an answer. Hopefully next week will be a full diagnosis and not the end of a chapter and the start of another. I've been mostly bedbound/big comfy reclining armchair for all this time resting and waiting. I dont get my hopes up anymore. I cnt even play my guitar properly because of my arm being ruined, and that was my greatest pleasure...

JAMES, SORRY FOR HIJACKING YOUR STATUS THREAD IN SUCH A LARGE MANNER, BUT HAVE A READ THROUGH AND IF YOU RECOGNISE ANYTHING SIMILAR, TELL THE GP ETC, OR LEARN FROM MY MISTAKES AND NOT QUESTIONING THE DAMN DOCTORS.

I really hope you get sorted mate, its no fun at all.

I stretched awake, monstrous movement and writing limbs, I wrestled with the notion of leaving my slumber. I never open my eyes slowly, as romantic moments in fim noir would have you believe. I snap awake, as if the greatest danger would be waiting for me. It’s the strangest moment of my day every day, it takes time for my senses to come to me and for those few seconds, I know what it is to be truly lost, to be abandoned in my own mind. I recognise nothing, I understand nothing, and I am not myself.

It doesn’t last, my trapdoors opening up, the fluid of my thoughts begins to channel through the proper lines and I become "me" again. Once I enjoyed this moment, because for a moment, I couldn’t remember anything, so I couldn’t remember how much I hurt. I forgot what had come before and I was grateful for that slight release, but as I became aware, my heart became like lead.

I swing my legs to the carpet and feel that strange wiry mess upon my feet and scratch my head. Usually, this is accompanied by the arrival of children to the local school, their cries of glee at a new day stood in stark contrast to my rebuttal of what I had to come. Its windy outside, I see the manufactured, there but for the grace of the council play trees, their branches dancing in the strong northerly. Today would be a good day for a walk, but today I can’t.

I hear the pap of a deep baritone horn; my friend has arrived. I have slept too late. I go to open the door and let him in. his usual cries bring me a little warmth. He always makes me smile.

“Alright nonce breath, you just got up…you lazy fuck” he spits out without thought. Our natural conversation has been developed over many years of friendship, to the point where we can understand every subtle nuance, every movement. He’s been a good friend, not your conventional one mind, but is conventional..and who on this feckless earth wants average in a friend, but that’s something for later introspection.