The Barnum Effect

Unfit for work this week, I've been comparing the nuances between co-codamol and trammadol for a spasmodic symphony of pain from a cricked neck. Co-codamol seems to ease the spasms, it also makes me queasy and dopey. Trammadol, aka tremmadol, relegates the pain to something of an irritation, whilst hitting me with the buzz of a dozen double espresso's. Back at the ranch, it seems the rumoured axe has manifested and culled the herd. First they came for the poor performers,     and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a poor performer. Then they came for the long of tooth,     and I didn't speak out because I wasn't long of tooth. Then they came for the weak and sickly,     and I didn't speak out because I wasn't weak and sickly. Then they came for me,     now just another weak and sickly, long of tooth, poor performer. Someone up top is divorced from the ugly reality of a demoralised workforce, brutalised by repe...

The UK is a free and democratic society today, but what about tomorrow? History has plenty to teach us about the fragility of society, and the ease with which a totalitarian regime can emerge given the right conditions. It seems to me that we're on the brink catastrophe on so many levels - climate change, population growth, and fossil fuel scarcity. Imagine the measures governments would have to take to keep order in a world where crops are failing due to changing weather patterns, populations are displaced by rising sea waters, and fuel & electricity have become rationed commodities. In such circumstances we'd be lucky if we just had to put up with a totalitarian government - resource scarcity also triggers war. We all hope that a new energy source will be invented, and climate change will turn out to be a load of bunk, but perhaps we should be planning for the worst? We often joke in the family about putting together a Mad Max kit - a survival tool chest for a p...

I'm in a dark place. Storm clouds have rolled in to block out the sunlight, leaving the world tinged in that sickly yellow light that precedes a thunderstorm. Gulls circle overhead, and beneath me the waters swirl in a vortex that threatens to suck me deep into the maelstrom, where I would surely drown. Suddenly, my folly laid bare, I realise the ocean despises me and will not tolerate me to stay in its demesne. The strong might be allowed to swim its waters, but the weak and ill are fools to believe the sea to be as supportive as it appears. You might paddle in the shallow bay awhile, rising with the gentle swell, but tarry too long and the sea will test you, falter and the riptide is merciless. I had been so sad and lonely on the beach, watching my friends swimming back and forth, slowly recovering from the grievous injury that had washed me ashore. Fear and longing held me immobile for the longest time. 'Come in, you can do it,' urged the swimmers....

I used the last of my vacation allowance to take this week off, but it hasn't been what you might call a successful holiday. There have been too many weekends where I've been required to work, which has left me tired and run down. I had a cold nine weeks ago, but the cough is still with me. At times my chest is so tight I can't speak, while at other times I feel I'm drowning. I've been told its time to get that checked out - find out if I'm becoming asthmatic, have allergies, a chest or sinus infection, or something altogether worse. A sore has developed between my buttocks, which makes standing up, sitting down and walking all ghastly painful. I'm on antibiotics for that, but to be truthful it seems it is the painkillers that are having the biggest effect. To cap it all, I'm due to see my consultant on Monday for the results of all the cancer follow-up tests I had last week. All of this has left me a bit fed up. Meanwhile the big bad world out...

I was at the supermarket this afternoon picking up bacon, eggs, sausages, black pudding and mushrooms for a family breakfast I'll be cooking for my dad & brother tomorrow morning. On my way back to the car I passed a couple loading shopping bags into their car boot. I only caught a snatch of their conversation, but I could tell they were midway through a domestic. "Why did you..." "But you said..." It struck me that being single might suck mightily, but it does mean I miss out on an awful lot of tense, angry, and frustrated arguments. As silver linings go it's thin but shiny. It is much easier to get on with a person as a friend than it is to get on with that same person as a partner. A friend's flaws are foibles, easily accepted, loveable even. As a partner those flaws aren't so easy to laugh off. They grate. They irritate. They become intensely unbearable. Couples have to work together, mutually agree on a whole range of choices. Which ...

Like a turtle retracting arms and legs, people retreat into themselves when stressed. I was surprised that my mother took shelter in the mundane routines of home life while she was in remission. I didn't expect her to draw up a '100 things to do before you die' list, but I was taken aback by just how little interest she had in getting out and about. With a few more years of life experience under my belt I've come to appreciate my mother's perspective. One doesn't need to fill every moment with things to DO, it is enough to simply BE. It is true we enjoy new experiences for their novelty value, but when we need comfort we seek the familiar patterns of our day to day life. My mother was a staunch atheist. She did not believe in god, nor an afterlife. When she knew she was dying she lost interest in the future that beyond her own lifespan. In her case I suspect a little existential nihilism was at work. When life has no intrinsic meaning or value the experien...

Two years ago cancer claimed my health, work, independence, home, and threatened my future. I grieved for all those things, a process which has turned out to be much more lengthy than the treatment for the cancer. Apparently there are five components to our reaction to catastrophic news: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. It is not a linear process, a person may not experience all five, they may feel several at once, and even flip back and forth between them. The major components for me have been anger and depression. Depression focuses the mind inwards, to dwell on past events and the unfairness of life. Anger squeezes out in unanticipated ways. With all the crappy aspects of my life I feel I deserve a break in other areas, to balance the scales: the flexible work arrangement that allows me to live in Leeds; sitting in a priority seat on the bus so I don't have to shoulder my rucksack longer than absolutely necessary; the holiday I was entitled to a...

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It is so curiously foreign to feel whole and balanced. This week I have had an unrivalled amount of energy and concentration to bring to bear in my work. I have heard assertive and confident tones to my voice in meetings and on conference calls. I'm not tired by the daily and weekly variants of my commute. Echoes of a past version of me. A deja vu moment for the soul. Will my new found equanimity will triumph the anxieties attendant on my appointment with the oncologist tomorrow? Answers on a postcard to...

I seem to have made a decision to participate in life beyond the autonomous actions of blinking and breathing. It was not a choice I was conscious of making. The actual moment passed by unrecognised. It is nearly two years since my last cancer diagnosis. The first year zoomed by in a flurry of treatments and appointments. The second year dragged me along in a state of numb distress and depression. Off work, socially isolated, dealing with the daily discomfort of lymphedema, there seemed nothing in my future but the prospect of more bouts with cancer. I couldn't see much point in living my life. Each day I continued the bare routines of existence, on the premise that a reason to live might crop up, whereas ending it all would certainly rule out any further contemplation on the subject. A few weeks ago I saw a headline about a solar eclipse which sent me off on an internet quest to learn more about the phenomena. I discovered a great website with predictions for all the eclipses, det...

I saw a GP yesterday about this itchy rash. She's given me antihistamines, and a referral to a dermatologist in case it doesn't clear up in a few days. She said that it could be a reaction to insect bites but it didn't look like bedbug bites. I managed 9 hours sleep last night. Amazing the difference it makes when you don't think you're being eaten alive.

I was in Liverpool last Sunday for Zappa Plays Zappa. I wouldn't describe myself as a Zappa fan but I'd definitely make the effort to see Dwezil again. The show was awesome. Everyone in our group trooped back to the Liverpool apartment after the show for a natter and a nightcap. I bowed out early to get some sleep knowing I had to rise early and catch the 5:27am to London. The banter and the "whmp whmp whmp" coming through the walls from an adjacent nightclub kept me awake despite my valiant efforts. I'm sleep deprived again this Monday. An itchy rash developed behind my knees, and has spread over my legs during the course of the week. The most benign thing it could be is contact dermatitis, or stress related eczema. Less pleasant would be insect bites - bedbugs perhaps. Worst case, and hopefully unlikely, would be a misguided autoimmune response triggered by a tumour. Perhaps I've seen too much House MD; it's one of the favourites from their differential ...

I was in the garden one day, I must have been about 15 years old, and mum was nattering to the next door neighbour. My ears perked up when the neighbour asked mum whether the test results were back yet. I had no idea until then that anything was amiss, although we had had a record number of takeaways that week. It turned out that my mother had discovered a breast lump and was waiting for the results of a biopsy. She told me this a bit later in the day, saying that she hadn’t wanted to worry me unnecessarily. I learnt that my grandmother had breast cancer as a young woman, and that my great-grandmother had died from the disease. Mum's test results came back a week or so later and the lump was just a fatty deposit. I went to university and graduated. While I was job hunting, my grandmother collapsed and was rushed into hospital. Within a few weeks she was admitted to a hospice, and two weeks later she passed away. We were told that her body was riddled with metastasized cancer. ...

I’m nearly at the end of my two week vacation. The second week has been spoilt somewhat. My team leader texted on Tuesday asking to speak to me. It was Wednesday before we actually managed to catch up, so I spent a day uneasy, wondering what was so urgent my holiday had to be interrupted. I was told that I’ll be put on the rota starting the Monday I return from holiday. The call was a courtesy to let me know. Each person in the team spends a week on the rota. If something goes wrong out of hours, the problem will be escalated to the on-call person. I’ve been very concerned since it became apparent that they intended to include me in the rota. I could get a phone call at any time during the evening, night, or weekend with a problem so intractable that it has to be escalated. I’m going through life at the moment trying to act as though everything is ok, that I’m fine, and fully recovered. The truth is that I’m barely getting by. I fill my personal time with tasks in order to keep my mind...

I’ve taken to sitting up in my loft. Last year I got floor boards installed as the builder said it would make a great storage area. It is an old leaky slate roof. Every now and again I hear a thump on the bedroom ceiling which indicates another lump of compo has lost its tenuous grip on a slate and succumbed to gravity. The slates need taking off then re-laying over felt. Some steels, a couple of velux windows, insulation and plasterboard and I’d have a fantastic extra room. However budget constraints mean I put buckets under the drips, and wait for that magical lottery win (must remember to buy a ticket.) I went up there to check whether everything was ok, and ended up running the vacuum cleaner around to hoover up some of Leeds’ industrial history – black soot - which on windy days drifts down from rafters where it has lain since the days of tall chimneys and woollen mills. When I finished I sat at the loft hatch with my legs dangling over the landing, ready to swing onto the ladder ...

I've had to step away from my desk. It is stiflingly warm. I can't get a breath of fresh air. Ludicrously it is only a matter of walking 5 meters to an office which is several delicious degrees cooler. It is a pity I don't have a good reason for lingering in here. I feel like a kettle simmering just below boiling, agitated and dangerous - likely to let out a prolonged screech if I reach boiling point, a transition I fear could occur anytime without warning. I hate this pent up tension. The effort it takes to remain in control. Fighting the urge to explode and unleash my frustrations. I need a safety valve. An outlet which could drain away my anger and anxieties. Answers on a postcard to...

So hopefully I've managed to get the right fluorescent bulb at Maplin's today. Proof will be when I'm teetering on the stool trying to reach high enough to plug it in. I didn't sleep so well last night. Confused dreams of hospitals and doctors who were unwilling to communicate have left me jittery today. I've felt better as the day has gone on, but this morning I was getting random shooting pains, aches and discomfort. My left eye has developed a nervous tick, which periodically starts fluttering. It scares me that I'm in such a shambolic state after just two days with a sleep deficit. I have been trying to stay focussed on the two week break I have coming up, the light at the end of the tunnel. If the 'one day at a time' mantra is best then I should focus on getting the light at the top of the stairs working tonight, and let tomorrow take care of itself.

I was so chuffed with myself yesterday evening. I got back to the flat, got the light fitting dismantled, got the bulb out, and got down to B&Q in time. When I got back to the flat and realised the bulb had got the wrong number of pins I got pretty cheesed off. It is a folded fluorescent that makes sort of a U shape. They have the same clip connector, and look identical from the front, but on the back there seems to be a number of possible pin variations. The one I need to find has 2 pins closest to the clip. The one I bought has 4 pins set a bit further away from the clip. Fancy making several incompatible light fittings and giving them the same name. Why do they have to make consumer light bulbs such a minefield? I imagine the head of the sales department shouting 'Gotcha!' everytime some poor dumb shopper is tricked into buying the wrong thing.

The combination of an excess of heat in the office and a shortfall of sleep has left me struggling to stay alert this morning. I'm starting to get pains in my right wrist which are very reminiscent of the RSI symptoms I've suffered in the past. It hurts when I try to manipulate the mouse, and it hurts now typing this on my PDA. Lymphedema and RSI in the same arm would be a serious issue. I'll have to mention it at my next clinic appointment. I dashed away from my desk the moment the clock ticked to 12pm, desperate to inject some movement and sunshine into my day in a bid to re-energise. I'm sitting in the shade in Paternoster Square letting my eyes soak up the rays without broiling in direct sunlight. It is a gorgeous day. On a day like today with its basking heat and bleaching sun, Paternoster Square reminds me of Piazza del Campidoglio in Rome. Of course we Brits are distinctly less well dressed than the Italians, and Michelangelo had nothing to do with the design of ...

I walk along the cliff top path, a fresh breeze on my face, and the sun on my back. Gulls swoop overhead. The blue sea stretches to the horizon broken by shards of light, glittering reflections fragmented by waves shimmering with movement. Life feels good, and I contemplate what lies beyond the horizon. What it might be like to cross the sea? What possible futures might unfold? Then a rock moves beneath my foot, and turning an ankle I stumble, falling to my knees at the cliff edge. Putting my hands down to steady myself, I look in horror down the cliff face to the waves crashing over the ferocious rocks below. The cliff top which had felt so solid as I ambled along crumbles beneath my fingertips, little clods of soil tumbling down to the foaming water below. I freeze in place, too terrified to move, lest I further disturb the ground and cause a catastrophic landslip. My eyes are riveted to the cliff face noting every bone breaking protrusion. The sea alternately pummels then su...