I see that The Junior Doctor is a fan of the Olympics. So am I. I have to be honest and say that I do not watch very much sport on television, but if there is a major games on I start to get glued to the box.
The last Olympics were not too much of a problem because Greece is only a couple of hours ahead of us, so I could rearrange my working hours a little if there was something that I particularly wanted to watch, although most of the best stuff was during the hours that I was at home anyway (or at the weekends). But with the time difference between here and Beijing being much greater it means that things are happening when I should be asleep, or when I should be getting up and doing whatever it is that I need to do during the day. It looks as though my sleeping pattern may be seriously disturbed for the next couple of weeks.
Cycling has never been a sport which attracted me in any way, after all a bicycle is just an object that gets you from Point A to Point B quicker than if you had to walk. However, when the Cycling World Championships were held in Manchester earlier this year, I was going through a bad period for sleep and consequently I became hooked on the late night programmes covering the event. As it happened, Team GB were absolute stars and wiped the floor with the other nations, winning almost every gold medal that they could. This meant that the cyclists from Great Britain were going to be a force to be reckoned with when it became time for the Olympics. Although some of the events in which we won medals in Manchester are not going to be be included in Beijing, our boys and girls are still favourites for most events. So I would like to wish then good luck and tell them that I will be shouting for them. Only please don't always leave it to the last possible second to take the lead because my poor old nerves can't stand it.
I have only once tried my hand at sailing, I was about 16 at the time, and I found it a very confusing thing to do. I think that this was partly due to the fact that I have enough problems being able to work out my right from my left, so when things suddenly became port and starboard, it was too much for me to cope with. I'm not counting my day spent cruising around Corfu in a yacht as part of my sailing adventures; I was very much a passenger on that occasion and spent much of my time indulging in beverages from the large supply in the cool boxes on board. Sailing must be difficult when it is very windy, but the almost calm conditions that faced our sailors this morning must make sailing almost impossible. How on earth do you get a boat to move when there doesn't even seem to be enough wind to mess up your hair?
Our rowers have also started their battle to win as many medals as possible. Team GB has had a good record in the rowing for a number of years and it seems that this year we may even have a stronger team than ever before. I expect that many of us rowing as a somewhat elitist sport, although it gained more support and probably more fans as a result of the exploits of Steve Redgrave and Matthew Pinsent. They have nine Olympic gold medals between them and that is more than we sometimes manage to get in a particular games. Food for thought, indeed.
Gymnastics and Judo have also started, although our fortunes have been somewhat mixed so far. But for me the games will be really underway, when first the swimming, and then the athletics, begin. But, one thing that has saddened me a little is that a nation, other than the host, can dictate when events will be held. I am sure that the television rights for the USA will bring in a great deal of money, but is it right that the way in which the swimming events have been timetabled should rely on when it is convenient for the Americans to watch. Instead of having the heats in the morning and finals in the evening (Beijing time) as would be the norm at major swimming events around the world, in order to fit in with American TV schedules the heats will be held in the evening and the finals in the morning Beijing time.
I sincerely hope that when the Olympic Games are held in London in four years time, which I hope I am able to enjoy, that we don't change the timings of things to suit another nation other than ourselves. Many of the sports that form part of the Olympic Games will not be shown in the US, they are really only interested in a few, so it is wrong that they should be able to affect the way in which things are timetabled, just because they are a large, rich nation. Why can't they get up in the early hours, or have a very late night, like the rest of us mortals? Just because they are the USA, and will probably win more medals than any other country (although China will be making a determined effort to see that this doesn't happen) doesn't mean that they have the right to dictate how things are run.
Ranting over; it's time to get a nap so that I can be fresh for when things get going again in the early hours of the morning! Oh, and lots of luck and best wishes to all our athletes, whatever their sport. If you just do your best, we will be proud of you all.
Saturday, 9 August 2008
Just Another Saturday
It's just another Saturday; when I was working it was the day that I had a lie in, sometimes not getting up until 7.30am. I ought to explain that on weekdays I used to call in at the gym for an hour's workout or a swim before I went in to face the rigours of the day. This meant that I would leave the house shortly after 6am to be at the gym when it opened at 6.30am, then do my exercise, have a shower, get dressed into my work clothes (usually a suit, but not always) and then drive to my place of work.
Much of my day would be spent reading through reports, editing them and advising on where rewriting or rewording was necessary. Sometimes it would be me who was writing the reports, on various subjects, some technical and some organisational. At the end of the day I would go home and spend a couple of hours reading the course material for whatever Open University course I was working on at the time, and when necessary writing the assignments that formed part of my assessment for these courses.
Saturdays were the day that I kept for myself. I could have a lie in, go shopping if I wanted to, or just veg out if it had been a particularly bad week at work. Sundays were for housework, getting everything ready for the next week at work, and spending a considerable period of time studying. It must have all been worth it because I managed to get a BSc(Hons) while continuing to work full time in a job that often required me to work very long hours.
Since I have had to stop working I have tried to continue to study with the OU as it has been a life saver for me, but it has not always been easy. You would think that now I don't have to fit work into my schedule, the studying could be done at any time of the day. But it can't, I just don't seem to be able to get myself to follow some sort of timetable, although one of the most important things for anyone who suffers from depression is to try to establish a routine and to stick to it no matter what.
So why do I have so much of a problem? I'm not really sure, but I think that part of it is having got myself into such a strict routine for last six years that I was working, I find it difficult to do things at times and on days which I associate with other things. Therefore, as it is Saturday, and I've had a lie in, and I haven't any money to spare so there is no point in going shopping. But Saturday used to be the one day when I didn't do any studying so it is not a normal Saturday thing.
I'm doing one of the OU's 'Openings' short courses at the moment, just as a fill in before starting a longer course in October, and it should be easy for me to do the two tutor-marked assignments (TMA) and the end of course assignment that is in lieu of an exam, but regular readers will know that I have had real problems sitting myself down to write the assignment (nothing too difficult, an essay plan, a 1000-word essay answering a particular question, and two simple exercises in reflecting about the learning experience), however, I did eventually manage it and I got it back from my tutor with lots of nice comments and some useful feedback.
Having been bolstered a little by this, which showed that I had not completely lost the knack of writing an essay in answer to a specific question (I mean I really did answer the question that was asked rather than what I thought was asked as I did in one of my very earliest TMAs all those years ago), I thought that I would spend today working towards my second TMA for this course. But it seems that I have my Saturday head on today, and no matter how hard I try I cannot find it in myself to concentrate on the study material and start to pull together some notes to form the basis of the essay.
The second TMA is much like the first one in composition; an essay plan and then a 1000-word essay for the first task, and two reflective questions, this time about feedback I received for the first TMA, for the second. However, try as I might I just can't do it. I obviously have a different head for Saturdays and it just doesn't allow me to do anything constructive as far as the studying is concerned.
Perhaps part of the problem is that the 'Openings' courses do not have a strict timetable like other OU courses, where you have to submit TMAs by certain dates and it can sometimes be quite difficult fitting in all the reading and other activities that you have to do. I'm glad that they didn't have these taster courses when I was first looking for something to fill the empty hours, because I know that it would have been all to easy to just coast along and not make too much of an effort. Starting my studying with the Science Foundation Course was the best thing that I could have done. It stretched my mind, and gave me something to focus on that was not work, but was worthwhile. I often regret that I did not do better at school and that I did not go to university when I was younger. But with hindsight, I have to say that I probably would not have got so much out of studying had I done it when young, and I probably wouldn't have had it to fall back on to help me through the desperate times as I do now.
What a wonderful thing is the Open University.
Much of my day would be spent reading through reports, editing them and advising on where rewriting or rewording was necessary. Sometimes it would be me who was writing the reports, on various subjects, some technical and some organisational. At the end of the day I would go home and spend a couple of hours reading the course material for whatever Open University course I was working on at the time, and when necessary writing the assignments that formed part of my assessment for these courses.
Saturdays were the day that I kept for myself. I could have a lie in, go shopping if I wanted to, or just veg out if it had been a particularly bad week at work. Sundays were for housework, getting everything ready for the next week at work, and spending a considerable period of time studying. It must have all been worth it because I managed to get a BSc(Hons) while continuing to work full time in a job that often required me to work very long hours.
Since I have had to stop working I have tried to continue to study with the OU as it has been a life saver for me, but it has not always been easy. You would think that now I don't have to fit work into my schedule, the studying could be done at any time of the day. But it can't, I just don't seem to be able to get myself to follow some sort of timetable, although one of the most important things for anyone who suffers from depression is to try to establish a routine and to stick to it no matter what.
So why do I have so much of a problem? I'm not really sure, but I think that part of it is having got myself into such a strict routine for last six years that I was working, I find it difficult to do things at times and on days which I associate with other things. Therefore, as it is Saturday, and I've had a lie in, and I haven't any money to spare so there is no point in going shopping. But Saturday used to be the one day when I didn't do any studying so it is not a normal Saturday thing.
I'm doing one of the OU's 'Openings' short courses at the moment, just as a fill in before starting a longer course in October, and it should be easy for me to do the two tutor-marked assignments (TMA) and the end of course assignment that is in lieu of an exam, but regular readers will know that I have had real problems sitting myself down to write the assignment (nothing too difficult, an essay plan, a 1000-word essay answering a particular question, and two simple exercises in reflecting about the learning experience), however, I did eventually manage it and I got it back from my tutor with lots of nice comments and some useful feedback.
Having been bolstered a little by this, which showed that I had not completely lost the knack of writing an essay in answer to a specific question (I mean I really did answer the question that was asked rather than what I thought was asked as I did in one of my very earliest TMAs all those years ago), I thought that I would spend today working towards my second TMA for this course. But it seems that I have my Saturday head on today, and no matter how hard I try I cannot find it in myself to concentrate on the study material and start to pull together some notes to form the basis of the essay.
The second TMA is much like the first one in composition; an essay plan and then a 1000-word essay for the first task, and two reflective questions, this time about feedback I received for the first TMA, for the second. However, try as I might I just can't do it. I obviously have a different head for Saturdays and it just doesn't allow me to do anything constructive as far as the studying is concerned.
Perhaps part of the problem is that the 'Openings' courses do not have a strict timetable like other OU courses, where you have to submit TMAs by certain dates and it can sometimes be quite difficult fitting in all the reading and other activities that you have to do. I'm glad that they didn't have these taster courses when I was first looking for something to fill the empty hours, because I know that it would have been all to easy to just coast along and not make too much of an effort. Starting my studying with the Science Foundation Course was the best thing that I could have done. It stretched my mind, and gave me something to focus on that was not work, but was worthwhile. I often regret that I did not do better at school and that I did not go to university when I was younger. But with hindsight, I have to say that I probably would not have got so much out of studying had I done it when young, and I probably wouldn't have had it to fall back on to help me through the desperate times as I do now.
What a wonderful thing is the Open University.
Friday, 8 August 2008
It Hasn't Been A Waste Of Time
I really can't believe it, but sitting and writing this blog does not seem to have been a waste of my time. What started off as a means of putting pen to paper, figuratively speaking, in order to get things out of my system, has become quite an important part of my days. What is more important is that it enables me to keep my mind active and to rant about things that really upset me, without having to raise my voice or resort to violence.
It would be untruthful of me to say that I didn't hope that someone would read what I wrote. Who among us doesn't write in the hopes that someone else will read what we have to say, and maybe agree with us. I was lucky because I received a comment on my second post, so I knew that at least one person, other than myself, had bothered to read what I had written. The comment welcomed me to the blogosphere. Then I wrote a few more things, and more comments arrived. It seemed that there were a number of people out there who felt that I had stuck a chord somewhere and that what I had written had some merit.
The day that the visitor counter passed 250 was a good one for me. It seemed that I had started to do something that was worthwhile, it was helping my state of mind, and I had already started to get a regular readership. Because my Internet connection has been down for a couple of weeks, thanks to BT, I haven't been able to access my blog as easily as I would if I could do it at home, and I haven't been able to read my blog favourites as easily either. I did note on Wednesday that the landmark of 500 visitors to the blog was approaching, but today I have found that it has been passed and significantly so.
How have people found my site I wondered? Some have found it because of reading other bloggers who have been kind enough to mention me (a big thank you to Jobbing Doctor here, because he really put me on the map), some have found me by searching the web for things about depression. Depression is one of those things that affects so many of us, and it is a shame that we have to write anonymously about how it affects our lives because mental illness is something that those who don't suffer from it feel is not a nice subject of conversation.
One thing that writing this blog has taught me is that I have something to say, and even if I can't say it out loud to the population at large, I can start to get my message across to a growing number of people through this medium. I don't know if what I write has helped anyone, I hope it has, because it has certainly made a big difference to my life. So thank you to anyone who has taken the time to read what I have written.
It would be untruthful of me to say that I didn't hope that someone would read what I wrote. Who among us doesn't write in the hopes that someone else will read what we have to say, and maybe agree with us. I was lucky because I received a comment on my second post, so I knew that at least one person, other than myself, had bothered to read what I had written. The comment welcomed me to the blogosphere. Then I wrote a few more things, and more comments arrived. It seemed that there were a number of people out there who felt that I had stuck a chord somewhere and that what I had written had some merit.
The day that the visitor counter passed 250 was a good one for me. It seemed that I had started to do something that was worthwhile, it was helping my state of mind, and I had already started to get a regular readership. Because my Internet connection has been down for a couple of weeks, thanks to BT, I haven't been able to access my blog as easily as I would if I could do it at home, and I haven't been able to read my blog favourites as easily either. I did note on Wednesday that the landmark of 500 visitors to the blog was approaching, but today I have found that it has been passed and significantly so.
How have people found my site I wondered? Some have found it because of reading other bloggers who have been kind enough to mention me (a big thank you to Jobbing Doctor here, because he really put me on the map), some have found me by searching the web for things about depression. Depression is one of those things that affects so many of us, and it is a shame that we have to write anonymously about how it affects our lives because mental illness is something that those who don't suffer from it feel is not a nice subject of conversation.
One thing that writing this blog has taught me is that I have something to say, and even if I can't say it out loud to the population at large, I can start to get my message across to a growing number of people through this medium. I don't know if what I write has helped anyone, I hope it has, because it has certainly made a big difference to my life. So thank you to anyone who has taken the time to read what I have written.
I Spoke Too Soon
Yes, I'm afraid I am guilty of speaking without checking my facts first. Just because a particular symbol had become lit on my router I assumed, erroneously as I now know, that I had my Internet connection back. My ISP did say that they would send me an email when the connection is back, but as I said in an earlier post, the fact that my connection is down makes the receipt of emails somewhat difficult.
Yesterday was a pretty bad day for me, and with it almost constantly raining, I decided that perhaps I would not venture to the library to use a computer. That way I may at least have some emails to look at the next time that I went to the library, and maybe something to blog about.
Friday is psychotherapy day. As usual I woke at some ridiculously early hour, so I decided to fire up the laptop and sit in bed doing a bit of housekeeping on my files. Once it had fired up and all the various little symbols and icons had appeared in their various locations, I noticed that there was a new symbol partly overlapping with the icon representing my network access. Yes, it's amazing isn't it? Me, a middle-aged lady and I understand things like networks and all that sort of thing. So I clicked on the icon and found that my local network (I have two computers and a couple of printers and this seemed to be the best way to be able to do some of the things that I wanted to) now wasn't working properly. I could not believe it. No Internet, and now no network. What was I to do?
I sat in bed and watched a bit of television, then I got up and had a bath, washed my hair, brushed my teeth, took my morning tablets, dried my hair, got myself dressed, switched off the laptop, and on my way out of the house I switched off the router and unplugged it. After travelling to the hospital for my psychotherapy, having the session, travelling back, and visiting the library to use one of their computers, I will in my own good time, go home, plug the router back in again, switch on the laptop, and if things are not working properly this time, I will very probably say some very rude words.
Therapy is hard, but computers are even harder!
Yesterday was a pretty bad day for me, and with it almost constantly raining, I decided that perhaps I would not venture to the library to use a computer. That way I may at least have some emails to look at the next time that I went to the library, and maybe something to blog about.
Friday is psychotherapy day. As usual I woke at some ridiculously early hour, so I decided to fire up the laptop and sit in bed doing a bit of housekeeping on my files. Once it had fired up and all the various little symbols and icons had appeared in their various locations, I noticed that there was a new symbol partly overlapping with the icon representing my network access. Yes, it's amazing isn't it? Me, a middle-aged lady and I understand things like networks and all that sort of thing. So I clicked on the icon and found that my local network (I have two computers and a couple of printers and this seemed to be the best way to be able to do some of the things that I wanted to) now wasn't working properly. I could not believe it. No Internet, and now no network. What was I to do?
I sat in bed and watched a bit of television, then I got up and had a bath, washed my hair, brushed my teeth, took my morning tablets, dried my hair, got myself dressed, switched off the laptop, and on my way out of the house I switched off the router and unplugged it. After travelling to the hospital for my psychotherapy, having the session, travelling back, and visiting the library to use one of their computers, I will in my own good time, go home, plug the router back in again, switch on the laptop, and if things are not working properly this time, I will very probably say some very rude words.
Therapy is hard, but computers are even harder!
Wednesday, 6 August 2008
I Might Be Connected Again
I may have my Internet connection at home again! It's a bit of a shame really because I have quite enjoyed the exercise that I get walking to the library to use one of their computers, but I must admit that it will be nice to read my emails as they arrive, and be able to write my blog whenever I think of something rather than when I can get access to a computer. So when I have finished writing this I shall go home, play around with my network to make sure that everything is connected properly and then fire up my laptop and hopefully surf to my heart's content.
Yesterday I needed to go to see my GP because I haven't been feeling particularly well for a couple of weeks now, and I have completely gone off food. It's not been my usual case of not knowing what I fancied; this was more that I just didn't want to eat, no hunger pangs, nothing. My previous GP retired last week, so I had to see one of the other partners in the practice. I had been a bit concerned about this because with my long history of depression, when things start to go wrong, they can be disastrous, and having to see a doctor who does not know my history can be difficult.
But I have been lucky. I had to see a doctor a couple of months ago when my GP was away at a conference, and the one I saw was sympathetic and kind. When I spoke to my GP about him and said that he was the one that I wanted to take over my care, my GP said he thought I had made a good choice, and that he would fully brief him about my difficulties. And he has. New GP made me feel safe and thanked me for choosing him to take care of myself. We chatted, he decided that a change in my medication may be necessary as he felt that my anxiety levels were much higher than they should be, and we talked about how this change may be effected.
So after my meeting with new GP, I'm feeling relieved that it's not all in my mind, he's told me not to worry too much over my eating problems, after all they have had the added benefit of allowing me to lose weight without really trying, something that I couldn't do earlier this year when I was trying really hard, and I have found a new GP who is kind, caring, and fortunately young enough not to be retiring for a few years yet.
Yesterday I needed to go to see my GP because I haven't been feeling particularly well for a couple of weeks now, and I have completely gone off food. It's not been my usual case of not knowing what I fancied; this was more that I just didn't want to eat, no hunger pangs, nothing. My previous GP retired last week, so I had to see one of the other partners in the practice. I had been a bit concerned about this because with my long history of depression, when things start to go wrong, they can be disastrous, and having to see a doctor who does not know my history can be difficult.
But I have been lucky. I had to see a doctor a couple of months ago when my GP was away at a conference, and the one I saw was sympathetic and kind. When I spoke to my GP about him and said that he was the one that I wanted to take over my care, my GP said he thought I had made a good choice, and that he would fully brief him about my difficulties. And he has. New GP made me feel safe and thanked me for choosing him to take care of myself. We chatted, he decided that a change in my medication may be necessary as he felt that my anxiety levels were much higher than they should be, and we talked about how this change may be effected.
So after my meeting with new GP, I'm feeling relieved that it's not all in my mind, he's told me not to worry too much over my eating problems, after all they have had the added benefit of allowing me to lose weight without really trying, something that I couldn't do earlier this year when I was trying really hard, and I have found a new GP who is kind, caring, and fortunately young enough not to be retiring for a few years yet.
Tuesday, 5 August 2008
What's Happened To Summer?
Here we are, August is progressing, and it seems that Summer had given us a miss again this year. I know that they say that Summers always seemed to be sunny when we were children, but they weren't really; however, I have to say that the last two or three Summers seem to have been particularly lacking in one vital element. Lots of sun.
It's been raining here in London already this morning, although it is trying to brighten up a little. We'll just have to hope that it improves soon and that we can managed a period longer than three consecutive days of sunshine before the rain hits us again. Still, I know that the water companies will find it a bit harder to ask for a hosepipe ban for a while.
It's been raining here in London already this morning, although it is trying to brighten up a little. We'll just have to hope that it improves soon and that we can managed a period longer than three consecutive days of sunshine before the rain hits us again. Still, I know that the water companies will find it a bit harder to ask for a hosepipe ban for a while.
Monday, 4 August 2008
All Quiet On The Blogging Front
It's very quiet on the blogging front at the moment. Most of my favourite bloggers seem to be on holiday at the moment so I don't have anything to read on a regular basis. Never mind, I thought, I'll just write a few more to make up for them.
Some days my mind is in torment. I don't mean that I suffer from terrors; rather it is a case of my mind just whirling around constantly, moving from one thing to another, and never giving me the opportunity to rest. On days like these, I am often able to sit down and write very long posts without really having to think too much about what I want to say. The words just seem to flow from my fingers, although sometimes my fingers run away with themselves and the spelling leaves a lot to be desired. But I try to check everything before I publish each post and hopefully there aren't too many mistakes when the post hits the ether for the rest of the world to read.
On other occasions it is as much as I can do to string two or three words together into coherent sentences; on these days any post that I write is like to be short, or non-existent. These days seem to be less common but can be just as worrying as those when I am in torment.
Just occasionally I have 'normal' days. These are rare and are the days when I can sit down to study, write essays, and generally get up to date with my OU work. Hopefully, I am in what may be a short period of these 'normal' days and this afternoon I shall sit down to write an essay that will complete my latest assignment for my current OU course. I'm not to worried about how I do on this course as I am not planning to use it towards any present or future qualification, but being able to complete the assignments is important for me because suffering from severe depression as I do means that studying can be a very hit and miss affair which is very much dependent on how I am feeling at any particular time.
Once this assignment is completed and sent to my tutor I shall begin work on the next assignment. I shall start work on the essay that forms the major part of the assignment as I have already done all the necessary reading, and made copious notes for the essay. But my problem at the moment is actually being able to sit down and write something meaningful and relevant. It sounds silly when I can sit here day after day writing posts without really having to think about it, on all manner of subjects, that I am having so much of a problem writing 1000 words about what methods we employ and how we use our memory to remember things, such as lists of objects or instructions to get from point A to point B.
Depression can do funny things to your memory. Things that happened a day or two ago can be forgotten instantly, yet other events, some traumatic and others completely insignificant, can be recalled as though they were yesterday, when they actually occurred 10 or 30 years ago. But tomorrow it may be completely different. It is the recent things that will be crystal clear while memories from the distant past are hard to recall.
So, I shall leave the library now, walk along the road to the shops to pick up a couple of items that are necessary for everyday living, then walk home and attack the dreaded assignment again. With luck it will be finished quickly, and I will wonder why I had so much difficulty with it. Whatever happens, I will be glad to get it out of the way and be able to move on with my studying, after all I have a new course starting in a few weeks and I need to get this one out of the way before that starts.
Why on earth do I put myself through these agonies? Because the OU and my studies are one of the few things that have actually kept me alive for the last 10 years. And I hope that I can continue to afford the costs of studying in the future as maintaining my sanity is pretty important to me.
Some days my mind is in torment. I don't mean that I suffer from terrors; rather it is a case of my mind just whirling around constantly, moving from one thing to another, and never giving me the opportunity to rest. On days like these, I am often able to sit down and write very long posts without really having to think too much about what I want to say. The words just seem to flow from my fingers, although sometimes my fingers run away with themselves and the spelling leaves a lot to be desired. But I try to check everything before I publish each post and hopefully there aren't too many mistakes when the post hits the ether for the rest of the world to read.
On other occasions it is as much as I can do to string two or three words together into coherent sentences; on these days any post that I write is like to be short, or non-existent. These days seem to be less common but can be just as worrying as those when I am in torment.
Just occasionally I have 'normal' days. These are rare and are the days when I can sit down to study, write essays, and generally get up to date with my OU work. Hopefully, I am in what may be a short period of these 'normal' days and this afternoon I shall sit down to write an essay that will complete my latest assignment for my current OU course. I'm not to worried about how I do on this course as I am not planning to use it towards any present or future qualification, but being able to complete the assignments is important for me because suffering from severe depression as I do means that studying can be a very hit and miss affair which is very much dependent on how I am feeling at any particular time.
Once this assignment is completed and sent to my tutor I shall begin work on the next assignment. I shall start work on the essay that forms the major part of the assignment as I have already done all the necessary reading, and made copious notes for the essay. But my problem at the moment is actually being able to sit down and write something meaningful and relevant. It sounds silly when I can sit here day after day writing posts without really having to think about it, on all manner of subjects, that I am having so much of a problem writing 1000 words about what methods we employ and how we use our memory to remember things, such as lists of objects or instructions to get from point A to point B.
Depression can do funny things to your memory. Things that happened a day or two ago can be forgotten instantly, yet other events, some traumatic and others completely insignificant, can be recalled as though they were yesterday, when they actually occurred 10 or 30 years ago. But tomorrow it may be completely different. It is the recent things that will be crystal clear while memories from the distant past are hard to recall.
So, I shall leave the library now, walk along the road to the shops to pick up a couple of items that are necessary for everyday living, then walk home and attack the dreaded assignment again. With luck it will be finished quickly, and I will wonder why I had so much difficulty with it. Whatever happens, I will be glad to get it out of the way and be able to move on with my studying, after all I have a new course starting in a few weeks and I need to get this one out of the way before that starts.
Why on earth do I put myself through these agonies? Because the OU and my studies are one of the few things that have actually kept me alive for the last 10 years. And I hope that I can continue to afford the costs of studying in the future as maintaining my sanity is pretty important to me.
In The Library Again
Yesterday I wrote a long post about our local library, and I'm in there again today. In yesterday's post I commented on how quiet libraries were when I was a child, there were lots of elderly lady librarians who 'Ssshhd' you if you made the slightest sound. Fortunately today, things are a little more enlightened, and as a result should make libraries more friendly places for young and old alike.
In our library, you can hear the gentle tapping of computer keyboards, as various people from the very young to the very old, are using the numerous Internet-connected computers that are there for us to use, and children can be heard talking, in not too quiet a manner, but undoubtedly doing their best, to Mum who is busy trying to find a book to read or sort out a thorny problem on the Internet. All of this is quite acceptable and shows that the library is a living building that is getting good use from the local population and therefore fulfilling its proper function.
However, today the library is not a pleasant place to be. It's nothing to do with the people inside; they are the usual mix of young and old, Mums with little children, the elderly looking for a book to help pass the time, and people like me who would do this at home if BT hadn't messed up my Internet connection. No the noise is outside; it is the sound of pneumatic drills as the road is dug up alongside the library.
The library is on the corner of two roads. One is a main road that is busy throughout the day with buses and cars, while the other is a small side road, typical of many of London's residential streets. I'm not absolutely certain what the work is for outside the library, but I can guess and I am absolutely certain that my guess will be right. At present the Victorian water mains in London are being replaced and this entails access to the mains running under the streets and to every property in the area to lay new pipes. I fully understand that this work is necessary, and I also understand that this is no small job to carry out, affecting all of London as it does. But I am seriously concerned how long some of this work is taking.
When they were doing the roads where I live, which is only a short distance from the library, there were holes in the road and pavements, as well as a number of roads closed, for more than 12 weeks. I actually had a hole in the road, and an unsightly pile of rubbish and gravel outside my house for the whole of this period. They didn't actually dig up the pavement outside my house until the penultimate day they were working in the area, and yet I had to put up with the inconvenience and noise of these workmen and their machines for three months. Some days we saw no men working at all, while on others only one or two were seen. I know that at least three complaints were made to the contractors about the length of time that the work was taking, and that the contractors came to inspect the work being carried out by the subcontractors on two occasions (because they stood and talked outside my garden).
Will they be as long working in the road alongside the library? I hope not, for the very good reason that on the opposite corner to the library is one of the local primary schools. The school has been closed for the summer holiday for a fortnight now, and yet work has only just begun outside it. Judging by the length of time that they took dealing with the roads around my house, the workmen will need to work at breakneck speed to finish the work outside the school before the summer holiday is over. Sitting here listening to the drills is bad enough for me even though I don't need an excessive amount of concentration to be able to type this post, but I should imagine that for young children trying to concentrate on their lessons, the noise will be intolerable.
Let's hope that the work is finished soon and the children's lessons will not be disturbed once the new school year begins.
In our library, you can hear the gentle tapping of computer keyboards, as various people from the very young to the very old, are using the numerous Internet-connected computers that are there for us to use, and children can be heard talking, in not too quiet a manner, but undoubtedly doing their best, to Mum who is busy trying to find a book to read or sort out a thorny problem on the Internet. All of this is quite acceptable and shows that the library is a living building that is getting good use from the local population and therefore fulfilling its proper function.
However, today the library is not a pleasant place to be. It's nothing to do with the people inside; they are the usual mix of young and old, Mums with little children, the elderly looking for a book to help pass the time, and people like me who would do this at home if BT hadn't messed up my Internet connection. No the noise is outside; it is the sound of pneumatic drills as the road is dug up alongside the library.
The library is on the corner of two roads. One is a main road that is busy throughout the day with buses and cars, while the other is a small side road, typical of many of London's residential streets. I'm not absolutely certain what the work is for outside the library, but I can guess and I am absolutely certain that my guess will be right. At present the Victorian water mains in London are being replaced and this entails access to the mains running under the streets and to every property in the area to lay new pipes. I fully understand that this work is necessary, and I also understand that this is no small job to carry out, affecting all of London as it does. But I am seriously concerned how long some of this work is taking.
When they were doing the roads where I live, which is only a short distance from the library, there were holes in the road and pavements, as well as a number of roads closed, for more than 12 weeks. I actually had a hole in the road, and an unsightly pile of rubbish and gravel outside my house for the whole of this period. They didn't actually dig up the pavement outside my house until the penultimate day they were working in the area, and yet I had to put up with the inconvenience and noise of these workmen and their machines for three months. Some days we saw no men working at all, while on others only one or two were seen. I know that at least three complaints were made to the contractors about the length of time that the work was taking, and that the contractors came to inspect the work being carried out by the subcontractors on two occasions (because they stood and talked outside my garden).
Will they be as long working in the road alongside the library? I hope not, for the very good reason that on the opposite corner to the library is one of the local primary schools. The school has been closed for the summer holiday for a fortnight now, and yet work has only just begun outside it. Judging by the length of time that they took dealing with the roads around my house, the workmen will need to work at breakneck speed to finish the work outside the school before the summer holiday is over. Sitting here listening to the drills is bad enough for me even though I don't need an excessive amount of concentration to be able to type this post, but I should imagine that for young children trying to concentrate on their lessons, the noise will be intolerable.
Let's hope that the work is finished soon and the children's lessons will not be disturbed once the new school year begins.
Sunday, 3 August 2008
I Went Hungry, Then What Happened
For those of you who read my post from Thursday, you will know that I had to have a colonoscopy on Friday. This was not the first time that I have had a colonoscopy, but it is the first time that I have been sedated for it. The hunger that I was fearing on Thursday did not seem to be a problem at any time; this was good because I knew that I was not likely to be getting anything to eat until sometime after 2.30 on Friday afternoon. I had my Friday morning psychotherapy session as normal and I was glad I did because I was starting to become anxious and this helped to concentrate my mind on other things, although it won't be until next week that I find out whether I made any sense in the things that I talked about, or whether my therapist just sat there and listened to me without saying too much because he wanted to help me over this anxiety without introducing any more into my life as a result of a difficult session.
After a slow start, my sessions always start with silence because I find it so difficult to talk, the time flew by and it seemed like only five minutes later that he was telling me that it was time to stop for that morning. I parted from him with a 'See you next week' went downstairs and suddenly realised that it really might be quite a good idea to make a very quick run for the loo. Accidents were avoided and the laxative that the hospital had given me to prepare for the colonoscopy seemed to have done its job.
I'm afraid that I had to have one of those infrequent cigarettes while I walked to the other hospital. I sat outside for a while but as the weather cooled and the possibility of rain became more likely, I decided to walk to the Endoscopy department because even though I was very early for my appointment, they did have comfortable chairs for me to sit in while I waited.
As it happened, having told the reception desk that I was there and gone over some details with them, I did not have to sit in the waiting room for too long. A nurse came through, called my name and invited me to take my clothes off and put on one of their lovely gowns, with the opening at the rear unsurprisingly. This was still more than an hour before my appointment time, but it meant that I could relax on a trolley and try to doze off if at all possible. I didn't because it seemed to be a constant trail of nurses coming to ask me questions, even though I had filled in the questionnaire that I received when my appointment was made, it seems that this questionnaire doesn't contain all the right questions. Why am I not surprised. After that I was given my label so that I wouldn't forget who I was. Then a few minutes later someone came to take my blood pressure. Then I was asked if I had signed a consent form. The answer was no, as my appointment literature told me that the doctor who would be carrying out the procedure would come and discuss this with me and get me to sign it before we began. Next it was time to find a vein to insert the cannula that was to be used to administer the sedative and painkillers. The nurse went to my right arm, which appears to have a very nice vein, but I know from past experience that it can be very difficult to get into this one, so I suggested she try my left arm which I knew to be my old GP's favourite when trying to get blood from me, and although she looked at it with some disbelief, she was somewhat surprised to find that what had appeared to be a poor specimen allowed her access with no problem at the first attempt. She was suitably impressed that I had managed to steer her in the right direction; but it's simply self-preservation because I absolutely hate having needles stuck in me.
Then the wait began. About 40 minutes before my procedure was due the Sister came over and told me that there would be a delay because my doctor would not be down on time due to some problems with patients on the wards. When he did arrive, 35 minutes late, he introduced himself, apologised profusely and assured me that the procedure would begin in just a few minutes, we went through the consent form and I signed it, and before I knew what was happening my trolley was being wheeled through to the room with the colonoscopy equipment. A few minutes of preparation passed as I was hooked up to monitoring equipment and oxygen was administered, then I was asked to roll over onto my side, the drugs were introduced via the cannula, and the procedure began.
I remember my last colonoscopy very clearly. As I said before I had it without sedation and I felt every movement along the length of my colon that was examined. This time I remember very little. Whether this is purely because of the sedative I was given, or whether its effect was heightened by the antidepressants that I take, I do not know, but while I was still awake I was certainly away with the fairies. I did as I was told and laid on my back when I was asked, and although the screen was easy enough for me to see, I seemed to forget to watch what was going on, although I had found it very interesting the last time I had undergone this procedure. I do remember the doctor saying that he would be taking some biopsies, but I forgot to watch this happening on the screen too, and I don't remember being wheeled out of the room and back to the position in the ward where I had been before. I have no idea how long it took, I have no recollection of them checking my monitor several times while I recovered from the sedative, but I really did enjoy the cup of tea and the biscuits that I was given when I became alert enough to handle a hot liquid.
My transport arrived a little later, my neighbour came to collect me, and we laughed and joked about what I was going to do for something to eat. I said I would be going for fish and chips after I had laid down for about half an hour or so. Actually, I went to bed and woke up again at 2.30 yesterday afternoon. So I still hadn't had anything substantial to eat since Thursday morning. And would you believe it? I still wasn't hungry. Now all I have to do is phone the consultant's secretary tomorrow morning to make an appointment to find out what they have discovered and what treatment is going to be necessary.
After a slow start, my sessions always start with silence because I find it so difficult to talk, the time flew by and it seemed like only five minutes later that he was telling me that it was time to stop for that morning. I parted from him with a 'See you next week' went downstairs and suddenly realised that it really might be quite a good idea to make a very quick run for the loo. Accidents were avoided and the laxative that the hospital had given me to prepare for the colonoscopy seemed to have done its job.
I'm afraid that I had to have one of those infrequent cigarettes while I walked to the other hospital. I sat outside for a while but as the weather cooled and the possibility of rain became more likely, I decided to walk to the Endoscopy department because even though I was very early for my appointment, they did have comfortable chairs for me to sit in while I waited.
As it happened, having told the reception desk that I was there and gone over some details with them, I did not have to sit in the waiting room for too long. A nurse came through, called my name and invited me to take my clothes off and put on one of their lovely gowns, with the opening at the rear unsurprisingly. This was still more than an hour before my appointment time, but it meant that I could relax on a trolley and try to doze off if at all possible. I didn't because it seemed to be a constant trail of nurses coming to ask me questions, even though I had filled in the questionnaire that I received when my appointment was made, it seems that this questionnaire doesn't contain all the right questions. Why am I not surprised. After that I was given my label so that I wouldn't forget who I was. Then a few minutes later someone came to take my blood pressure. Then I was asked if I had signed a consent form. The answer was no, as my appointment literature told me that the doctor who would be carrying out the procedure would come and discuss this with me and get me to sign it before we began. Next it was time to find a vein to insert the cannula that was to be used to administer the sedative and painkillers. The nurse went to my right arm, which appears to have a very nice vein, but I know from past experience that it can be very difficult to get into this one, so I suggested she try my left arm which I knew to be my old GP's favourite when trying to get blood from me, and although she looked at it with some disbelief, she was somewhat surprised to find that what had appeared to be a poor specimen allowed her access with no problem at the first attempt. She was suitably impressed that I had managed to steer her in the right direction; but it's simply self-preservation because I absolutely hate having needles stuck in me.
Then the wait began. About 40 minutes before my procedure was due the Sister came over and told me that there would be a delay because my doctor would not be down on time due to some problems with patients on the wards. When he did arrive, 35 minutes late, he introduced himself, apologised profusely and assured me that the procedure would begin in just a few minutes, we went through the consent form and I signed it, and before I knew what was happening my trolley was being wheeled through to the room with the colonoscopy equipment. A few minutes of preparation passed as I was hooked up to monitoring equipment and oxygen was administered, then I was asked to roll over onto my side, the drugs were introduced via the cannula, and the procedure began.
I remember my last colonoscopy very clearly. As I said before I had it without sedation and I felt every movement along the length of my colon that was examined. This time I remember very little. Whether this is purely because of the sedative I was given, or whether its effect was heightened by the antidepressants that I take, I do not know, but while I was still awake I was certainly away with the fairies. I did as I was told and laid on my back when I was asked, and although the screen was easy enough for me to see, I seemed to forget to watch what was going on, although I had found it very interesting the last time I had undergone this procedure. I do remember the doctor saying that he would be taking some biopsies, but I forgot to watch this happening on the screen too, and I don't remember being wheeled out of the room and back to the position in the ward where I had been before. I have no idea how long it took, I have no recollection of them checking my monitor several times while I recovered from the sedative, but I really did enjoy the cup of tea and the biscuits that I was given when I became alert enough to handle a hot liquid.
My transport arrived a little later, my neighbour came to collect me, and we laughed and joked about what I was going to do for something to eat. I said I would be going for fish and chips after I had laid down for about half an hour or so. Actually, I went to bed and woke up again at 2.30 yesterday afternoon. So I still hadn't had anything substantial to eat since Thursday morning. And would you believe it? I still wasn't hungry. Now all I have to do is phone the consultant's secretary tomorrow morning to make an appointment to find out what they have discovered and what treatment is going to be necessary.
Sunday Morning In The Local Library
I am very lucky. My local library is open between the hours of 10am and 4pm on a Sunday, and so I have been able to book a computer for a few hours to enable me to get up to date with my emails and read my favourite blogs, and most importantly, post something myself. This is a good example of a local authority doing things well for the benefit of the community. It's not a very big library, but there is a regular throughput of visitors each day, and having been in here a lot just recently because of my lack of an Internet connection at home, I have seen just how much this facility is being used by the local population.
I remember this library from my childhood. I've always been a great reader and to have bought me enough books to read and keep me quiet would have cost my parents a fortune that they didn't have, so membership of the local library was something that my parents sought for me at the earliest opportunity. I remember visits to this library with my father on a Saturday morning when I was very young. It was quite a long walk from where we lived at that time, but it was lovely to spend an hour or so looking for things that I might like to read, before taking the long walk home. I lived at that time, and do again now, in a part of London that is very hilly, so walking on the flat is quite a novelty for me, even though I spent more than 30 years living in Cambridgeshire, the lowest lying county in England.
In those childhood days I remember the library being filled with shelves of books arranged around the walls and in regimental lines in the centre of the various rooms that made up the Victorian building. I also remember the forbidding ladies who looked daggers at you if you inadvertently allowed your shoes to squeak on the shiny linoleum floor, or accidently dropped a book from your little hands that really weren't designed to both hold books that you had already selected as likely candidates for borrowing to read at home, and for those that you were still considering.
Everything about the library was manual, and time-consuming in those days, but it was somewhere that I loved. When my parents decided to buy their own house, you can imagine my delight to find that we were moving so much nearer to my beloved library, and by this time I was old enough to be able to go to the library by myself; there was only one major road to cross and that had a pedestrian crossing almost outside the library. Other children went to the cinema on a Saturday morning, or to dancing classes, or learnt to ride a horse, while I would disappear up the road to the library, safe in the knowledge that I could spend the whole morning there in a world of books and knowledge, and only have to leave when I got hungry.
In those days, libraries had extensive reference sections, full of encyclopaedias and other books of reference, that could not be removed from the library but could be perused for hours by a child with a mind anxious to learn. By the time that I was 10 I had read most of the books that attracted me in the children's library, so I used to bring my parents' library tickets with me so that I could borrow books from the adult section of the library instead.
Today, the library has very few reference books, they have computers instead, which allow you to carry out far more research than was possible in those dim and distant days of my childhood. what can now be achieved in a few minutes through a search on Google, would have taken days of searching and requesting of books from more central libraries in my childhood. You can borrow films on DVD and music CDs from the library today, something else that wasn't possible when I was a child, although the library did have a limited selection of classical music available on long playing records, and even some on 78s, believe it or not. The books are no longer arrange with military precision around the walls and the open floorspace, shaped racking gives a much friendlier appearance to the building and carpet covers the floor. Nor is silence the rule; although what chatter there is seems to be carried out in hushed tones. And in these days of electronic systems and barcode readers, it is no longer necessary to have a member of staff stamp your books with the date that they are due for return. No, today, you can go to a machine, have it read the barcode on your library card, then lay the books that you wish to borrow onto a plate to have the machine determine what the books are, almost miraculously, and then print out a receipt like that which you receive at the supermarket, only instead of listing items and their prices, it lists the books and the date that they are due for return. It is technology such as this that makes it economically viable for libraries to be open 7 days a week, and for quite considerable hours for some of those days.
One thing that belonging to the library taught me was that it was alright to read a book more than once. There were books that I read before I was 10 that I still read and enjoy today. One author who has been a favourite all my life is CS Lewis, whose wonderful tales of Aslan and Narnia are undoubtedly metaphors for God and Heaven, and yet they were adventure stories nontheless. I enjoyed a series of books about 'The Ballet Family' although I have no idea who wrote them and I am sure that it would be impossible to find them in a library now, and of course, there was Noel Stretfeild's 'Ballet Shoes' which was revived last Christmas by the BBC as suitable for family viewing, and indeed it was. I should say that I had no interest in learning Ballet, and would undoubtedly have been very bad as I am, and always have been, a bit on the clumsy side.
Reading is still one of my greatest joys. I read to educate myself, and I read for enjoyment. I read old favourites and I am willing to try new authors. I don't necessarily like all the modern bestsellers, and some authors whose early books I read avidly, I now find seem to have run out of ideas, and yet others get better with every book. I still read childrens' books and I loved JK Rowling's stories of Harry Potter; she is a writer in the mould of CS Lewis who can write a book for children, that adults will enjoy reading. I love detective stories, but they must be British detective stories. But even though I am a great reader, I do not particularly enjoy the works of Jane Austen, although I have read them all, and there is no way that you can persuade me to read anything by the Bronte sisters; I have tried, but they just don't grab me.
Books are a wonderful friend to have in your life, and I have no doubt that some of my old, and not so old, favourites have kept me going through the darkest days of my depression. If there is a vote for libraries, count me in, and I will be there to give you countless reasons why we should never let them be closed.
I remember this library from my childhood. I've always been a great reader and to have bought me enough books to read and keep me quiet would have cost my parents a fortune that they didn't have, so membership of the local library was something that my parents sought for me at the earliest opportunity. I remember visits to this library with my father on a Saturday morning when I was very young. It was quite a long walk from where we lived at that time, but it was lovely to spend an hour or so looking for things that I might like to read, before taking the long walk home. I lived at that time, and do again now, in a part of London that is very hilly, so walking on the flat is quite a novelty for me, even though I spent more than 30 years living in Cambridgeshire, the lowest lying county in England.
In those childhood days I remember the library being filled with shelves of books arranged around the walls and in regimental lines in the centre of the various rooms that made up the Victorian building. I also remember the forbidding ladies who looked daggers at you if you inadvertently allowed your shoes to squeak on the shiny linoleum floor, or accidently dropped a book from your little hands that really weren't designed to both hold books that you had already selected as likely candidates for borrowing to read at home, and for those that you were still considering.
Everything about the library was manual, and time-consuming in those days, but it was somewhere that I loved. When my parents decided to buy their own house, you can imagine my delight to find that we were moving so much nearer to my beloved library, and by this time I was old enough to be able to go to the library by myself; there was only one major road to cross and that had a pedestrian crossing almost outside the library. Other children went to the cinema on a Saturday morning, or to dancing classes, or learnt to ride a horse, while I would disappear up the road to the library, safe in the knowledge that I could spend the whole morning there in a world of books and knowledge, and only have to leave when I got hungry.
In those days, libraries had extensive reference sections, full of encyclopaedias and other books of reference, that could not be removed from the library but could be perused for hours by a child with a mind anxious to learn. By the time that I was 10 I had read most of the books that attracted me in the children's library, so I used to bring my parents' library tickets with me so that I could borrow books from the adult section of the library instead.
Today, the library has very few reference books, they have computers instead, which allow you to carry out far more research than was possible in those dim and distant days of my childhood. what can now be achieved in a few minutes through a search on Google, would have taken days of searching and requesting of books from more central libraries in my childhood. You can borrow films on DVD and music CDs from the library today, something else that wasn't possible when I was a child, although the library did have a limited selection of classical music available on long playing records, and even some on 78s, believe it or not. The books are no longer arrange with military precision around the walls and the open floorspace, shaped racking gives a much friendlier appearance to the building and carpet covers the floor. Nor is silence the rule; although what chatter there is seems to be carried out in hushed tones. And in these days of electronic systems and barcode readers, it is no longer necessary to have a member of staff stamp your books with the date that they are due for return. No, today, you can go to a machine, have it read the barcode on your library card, then lay the books that you wish to borrow onto a plate to have the machine determine what the books are, almost miraculously, and then print out a receipt like that which you receive at the supermarket, only instead of listing items and their prices, it lists the books and the date that they are due for return. It is technology such as this that makes it economically viable for libraries to be open 7 days a week, and for quite considerable hours for some of those days.
One thing that belonging to the library taught me was that it was alright to read a book more than once. There were books that I read before I was 10 that I still read and enjoy today. One author who has been a favourite all my life is CS Lewis, whose wonderful tales of Aslan and Narnia are undoubtedly metaphors for God and Heaven, and yet they were adventure stories nontheless. I enjoyed a series of books about 'The Ballet Family' although I have no idea who wrote them and I am sure that it would be impossible to find them in a library now, and of course, there was Noel Stretfeild's 'Ballet Shoes' which was revived last Christmas by the BBC as suitable for family viewing, and indeed it was. I should say that I had no interest in learning Ballet, and would undoubtedly have been very bad as I am, and always have been, a bit on the clumsy side.
Reading is still one of my greatest joys. I read to educate myself, and I read for enjoyment. I read old favourites and I am willing to try new authors. I don't necessarily like all the modern bestsellers, and some authors whose early books I read avidly, I now find seem to have run out of ideas, and yet others get better with every book. I still read childrens' books and I loved JK Rowling's stories of Harry Potter; she is a writer in the mould of CS Lewis who can write a book for children, that adults will enjoy reading. I love detective stories, but they must be British detective stories. But even though I am a great reader, I do not particularly enjoy the works of Jane Austen, although I have read them all, and there is no way that you can persuade me to read anything by the Bronte sisters; I have tried, but they just don't grab me.
Books are a wonderful friend to have in your life, and I have no doubt that some of my old, and not so old, favourites have kept me going through the darkest days of my depression. If there is a vote for libraries, count me in, and I will be there to give you countless reasons why we should never let them be closed.
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