Monday 9 January 2017

Your health is your wealth, your sanity, your everything.


Aside from the odd sniffle, ache or sinus blockage, I rarely get ill. Thankfully, I’ve never been seriously ill. I rarely have cause to look for sympathy, but if I did, I’d swiftly remind myself that I’m from a small town in the west of Ireland, and sympathy, sensitivity and empathy are not widely practiced here, so it’s completely pointless to even try. Unless you are officially terminally ill, have lost a limb or missing an organ or two, all you can expect to get is abuse. Everyone becomes an expert. If I was to follow the advice given to me by several of my so called friends over the last 10 days, I suspect I would be well beyond the reach of home care by now, and would have been admitted to hospital some time ago. Typically, and unsurprisingly, one of the stalwart Irish stereotypical suggestions I received was:

“A few hot ones will sort ya out”

No, no they won’t.

Regardless of what time of the year it is, whatever the weather, whatever type of aliment you may have, there is always a dose going around. Always.

“I’m not feeling well”....”yeah there’s a bad auld dose going”

There is never not a dose going around.

It’s early January, 2017. The sooner this persistent and very resilient bout of respiratory contagion has expired and my medically enforced house arrest has been lifted the better. True, there are times when I would love the luxury of having a few whole days of nothing to do and be free to kick back and relax at home, but when you have to ingest a cocktail of extremely strong pills which actually make you vomit before they start working, drink gallon after gallon of water and thin broth, then subsequently having to urinate every five minutes, try and force yourself to eat when you can't, continuously try to adjust your internal chronometer to adapt your system to being totally wired at four o clock in the morning, then practically unconscious by lunchtime, spending time at home soon becomes an arduous task. It’s not so much fun when you can’t enjoy a nice bottle of red and a side of baby back ribs or a fillet steak.

Creature comforts such as a hot shower, a full larder and fridge, television, an extensive DVD and book collection, many guitars, amplifiers, effects, wireless internet, an open fire and soft furnishings which I normally would never take for granted are becoming mundane and uninteresting, and serve to add to the tedium. If I watch any more television I will start to lose all cognitive brain function, and my synapses will collapse. If I read any more books my eyeballs will liquefy. If I count the number of squares on the sofa upholstery again I'll have to be sectioned. The fire is being a pain in the arse and I think I’ll just burn all the guitars for something to do.

As from today, I officially know everything there is to know about the mating rituals of the Burmese clouded leopard, how to re-bore a cylinder head from a 1982 Ford Fiesta, make the perfect beef Wellington, abandoned Soviet missile silos, male and female wannabe non-celebrities plastered with fake tan and makeup pretending they can dance on a stupid show, honey badgers, gyroscopes, solar flares, craft beer making, the Botfly, topical jungle medicine, keyhole surgery, money laundering, composting toilets, floating raft foundations, the Panama canal, people who never met each other getting married, teenage moms, the man with 37 wives and last but not least, Margaret Thatcher's secret henchmen.

Tomorrow morning, I’m expecting a small package from An Post AND a delivery from a courier simultaneously!! I can’t say I’ve ever been excited about seeing the postman before, and my normal interaction with the courier is a long winded argument about how he knows full well where my house is but just can’t be arsed to deliver the item because it’s a few minutes out of his way, but I can barely contain my glee! If he does make it the house I'll drag him in for tea and make him watch a really long film with me. Schindler's list, Titanic or Ben Hur, something like that, even though my eyes will be burnt out of my head. I’m also very much looking forward to loading the dishwasher and folding towels. That’s how boring it can get. If I ever thought about becoming a professional criminal this has put me right off, as I know now I could never do prison.




On a serious note, these few days have given me a lot of time to think. This is only a temporary situation and I’m expecting my exile to end within another week, and I fully realise and appreciate what those who may be battling a serious illness, convalescing from surgery, receiving palliative care, or suffering from severe depression or anxiety have to face on a day to day basis.

I know I will be able to get back in the car in a few days and do the normal, routine, monotonous, everyday rat-racing that we all whinge about from time to time. But compared to what so many other poor people have to endure, the rat race is glorious, the routine is a blessing and being fit and healthy enough to deal with all life’s challenges, setbacks and assholes is a privilege.

Life is all too brief. Don’t put anything off. Be nice to others but be true to yourself. Don’t allow yourself be judged. Don’t be a walkover but don’t be an asshole. You’re only human. If you think someone needs help then they probably do. Ask them. Don’t wait for someone else to do it. If someone asks you an awkward question answer them honestly. They wouldn’t have asked if they didn’t want to hear the answer truthfully. 


Till next time...Adios!!

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