Surviving misfortunes

We’ve all been ill at some time or another. If you’re reading this you survived, possibly completely, mostly intact, cognitively able and sensorily aware. You might even be as you were; or better than you’ve ever been. Or not. For myself, I fear the latter although at the time of the recovery I showed such bravado that even I was convince that there is truth in the adage: “what you suffer only makes you stronger”. What I now know is that the marginal gain in fortitude is quickly lost as we age and any gain at the time is compounded negatively in our senior years.

Our body, though, has an amazing set of actions and reaction to deal with illness. We have an entire system devoted to such a task. The immune system can turn adversity into reward. A child gets sick and immediately the body goes into overdrive to not only rid the body of invasion but prepare the child for any future occurrence of the same troublesome bug. We now know how that works and have developed vaccines to trick the body into believing it has been contaminated just so the antibodies produced will deal with future infection.

 The causes of illness are numerous and varied. They don’t all work in the same way either. The body needs a bank of strategies to tackle each individual invader. We might be infected with microbes, injected with toxins, attacked by our own body, denied the proper use of an organ or two, inflict our own pain and suffering by a number of means, or just wear out.  

My personal collection of inflictions include glandular fever (from whence I know not where it came), an overdose of alcohol from time to time, a blocked artery causing my heart to malfunction and from which it has never recovered, the odd collision with objects less tenuous than myself, and a sticky hip, claimed by the medical profession as ‘worn out’. Surely there is a more alarming medical term I can use in company.

 Along with that we seem to treat our body as we might an enemy of the state. We drop it, strike it with all manner of things, allow others to do same, adorn it with self-inflicted wounds, and act as if we are made of titanium steel instead of the putty-like jelly of soft, pliable and easily damaged cells that we are. Foolishly, we are risk takers. More foolishly we thing we can survive unscathed.

 It’s a wonder we survive at all. Life expectancy isn’t really an expectation, it’s a guess. Don’t rely on it too much.

 But there are two things we must also contend with during these times of indisposition and, hopefully, convalescence: ourselves and others.

 There is nothing more self-centering and draw us to focus on our own mortality than ones own illness. The last thing you really want to hear is the tales of woe from others. Nevertheless they will inform you of how sick they had been or still are with a disorder that is far worse than yours and how they suffer beyond description and belief.

If the other isn’t currently debilitated by their own infection or infliction they will know of someone who is: close or distant relative, friend, neighbour, or someone they read about or saw on the tellie. 

Now, I’m not sure what the purpose of these diabolical tales of obscure disorders is to serve but you can be reassured that the perpetrator will be the only person gaining any satisfaction or consolation. 

 The possibility of the other to have a cure, a better doctor, a placebo in the form of a platitude or consolation prize, or the name of a reputable undertaker is quite high. The other will also ask you if you are OK, knowing full well that you are not and feeling even worse since the other arrived to cheer you up.

 Interestingly enough, the cures offered have little to do with current medical knowledge. More so, they will be ancient Mayan cocoa and beetroot brews or a sparkling crystal one is supposed to place under ones  pillow at night with the end result being a bleeding scalp in the morning and withdrawals from the excessive caffeine.

There will always be a nutritionalist in the mix with a sure fire recipe containing essential superfoods such as kale and leaf litter from a rainforest floor. I was once offered blended wheat shoots to help with a gut ache I had. I couldn’t get my senses past the colour. Then I remembered how much cows like wheat grass and how much farting a cow contributes to greenhouse gases, so I declined the offer.

 If you have any religious friends, prepare yourself. They will surely pray for you; hopefully in the privacy of their own home or distant alter. I have such friends. They know full well what I think of their connection to their god and even if he existed, how little notice he would take of them looking to find a cure for me. Besides, why is it that such others have the gall to think that their very busy god would even be aware of their existence, or mine for that matter, and be decent enough to stop flooding Bangladesh or setting in place an Ebola outbreak in southern Sudan just to deal with my wacky hip or man flu. I don’t think even a case of cancer would get him out of bed on Day 7.

 So, what is my advise to those who are suffering  or will suffer a malady. 

Tell no-one.

Unfortunately we tend to tell everyone we come across. It’s like the weather. It’s a cordiality we use to start a conversation or greet a friend. We can’t help ourselves.

And since I know you can’t resist, all I can suggest is to be patient. Death will come soon enough and both the pain of mind and body will vanish along with the others who will add you to their bank of stories of woe when they next meet a sick friend.

 

The best part of any illness is when it belongs to someone else’s misery.

 

 

9 comments

                   Image result for Surviving misfortunes"

i am, suze.

my hip hurts like hell.

it never used to.

Sorry to hear that ... try rubbing it with some Voltaren Cream a couple of times a day.

And there is the unrequested remedy freely given just as Dingo said it would be! lol

Hello The Dingo,

Bloody awful having pain or being sick and no easy answers from me - but no doubt we all have to live with it from time to time...and some more so or less so than others.

Believe there is such a thing as ‘pain management’ think it involves elements of mindfulness meditation or some such but it might be worth a ‘google’.  And hopefully not sounding like ‘the kale and leaf litter on rainforest floor’ brigade you referred to in your piece, but personally find  meditation or even breathing exercises beneficial for just about everything.  Think there’s even something in ‘the healing power of nature stuff’ so a bit of ‘forest bathing’ might be right up your alley - mind, body, spirit links etc...Also am told no need to run a marathon but keep the body - even bits and pieces of it - moving as best you can...even whinge, laugh, think, write or whatever.

But hey if that doesn’t work just opt for what some of us would scream during the final stages of childbirth  (provided it doesn’t hurt the baby)

’GIVE ME  - well ANYTHING really’- or just knock me out!

PS.  I’m sure I’ve heard of people getting a new hip/s or new knee/s - that might be worth considering.

Hey Dingo, could be worse.  This bloke, who shall remain nameless, has a rather unusual emerging problem.  

 

The Electronic Dunny Seat

 

I’m classified as senior now, the government said so.

They sent a little booklet full of things it’s good to know,

like where to buy a walking frame to save me from a slip

or pills that help to ease the pain in my arthritic hip.

 

There’s something in the catalogue that has me quite intrigued.

At first, I couldn’t understand how anyone might need

a dunny seat with batteries (I think they throw in some)

but further reading told me it’s designed to wash ya bum.

 

Apparently, it washes with a lukewarm water spray

then gently dries you off with heated air - or so they say.

I don’t know who invented it but I guess they were thinking

that this could be a useful aid for folk whose arms are shrinking.

 

I hear the young folk sniggering but one day they might find

their arms will all be shrinking too and won’t reach round behind.

The shrinking starts off gradually the first sign they might see

is needing longer arms to read, that’s how it was for me.

 

If mine shrink any further I might need the dunny seat,

though for the moment all the bits that need to meet still meet,

but there’s another thing that it has made me think about.

I’d never have to change the dunny roll when it ran out.

 

The missus gets all cranky ‘cause she reckons when I’m done

I never change the bloomin’ thing, like she’s the only one

who winds up with no paper. If we used this seat instead,

that problem would be sorted … til the batteries went dead.

 

Image result for good one electronic dunny seat"

Always enjoy your writings Leonie :)

Thanks, Suze :)

Great poem Leonie, very funny :)))

Hey Ding, not good at all, pain is a PIA but this is worth having a look at. Ever heard of Ayahuasca aka the tea, the vine, and la purga (called that for a very good reason). Recent research has shown that Ayahuasca may benefit health, particularly brain health. This drink was used for spiritual and religious purposes by ancient Amazonian tribes, so if you’re feeling a bit down, it can give considerable boost.

https://www.healthline.com/nutrition/ayahuasca#benefits

your ex new best invisible friend Reag.

Image result for ayahuasca plant or you could just have a cup of Irish Winter, my latest craze!

• So, what is my advise to those who are suffering or will suffer a malady.
• Tell no-one.
• The best part of any illness is when it belongs to someone else’s misery.

The dingo ... your comments gave me a huge laugh today, thank you.

Having just come home from my cardiologist ... my lips are sealed.

Glad to accommodate, RnR. 

At this point I feel the urge to provide you with some suitable advise regarding your cardiovascular system but will resist for the sake of consistency on my part.

i, too ‘see’ a cardiac specialist from time to time. He’s probably not the best so I won’t suggest you make an appointment. ‘Seeing’ is the optimum word here. I fail to understand why I’m paying him upkeep on his mortgage or down payments on his yacht. He does no more than I could do myself if I used YOUTUBE as a guiding source.

Next time you go see your person, ask him this:

if (s)he was your dearest friend and you invited him to all,your future birthday parties in advance on the condition he bought all the presents right now, how many gifts would he buy?

id be interested in his answer. You probably would be as well. 

The question could apply to anyone with any medical,professional treating you for an illness.

The evasive answer will probably something like:”It’s hard to tell” which is a peculiar answer considering they might be saying you could extend your life by x years if you do as they say.

I think most of us really don’t take the fight for life seriously until it is pending. 

As Chrsitopher Hinchin said in his book on mortality we don’t fight FOR life; we fight WITH it.

its a constant battle. 

Only today did I see a bloke drive through a red light at a busy intersection with cars sucking and diving as he went on his way. I’m sure there’d have been a few people telling themselves and others how they were nearly killed today, including me. One driver did offer some advice to the perpetrator of our road space. 

“Fuck off, you wanker?” seemed to be  the remedy choice we all agreed on at the time. 

 

“Fuck off, you wanker?” ... Oh yes.

My cardiologist visits involve driving a long way on the M1 towards Brisbane.

By the time I survive that Dingo, I'm beyond asking even the simplest of questions LOL.

Mr C and I even joke about my M1 wanker blood pressure readings.

Seriously, guys and girls, I was just rambling before bedtime.

But, as I expected, there would be the few who ignore my reflections and take it upon themselves to aggravate me even further.

Meditation indeed. I’m always meditating. Well, thats what I tell my wife when she catches me in the lotus position with my eyes closed and a strange strangled noice emanating from within.

Actually, I’m just trying to get my right foot close enough to my hands so I can put on my sock.

As for the ‘forest stuff’, I’ll pass. Nature has a way of carrying all sorts of creepy-crawlies, fungi, invertebrate blood suckers and a few vicious vertebrates. Besides, what’s wrong with the ‘nature’ right here in my own living room. Quiet, sterile, fully furnished, close to food and water, conditioned air, and close proximity to a soft bed. Which one of those things would bite me or send me into a toxic shock, I ask. (Other than my wife or one of the grand children).

Thanks, Reagan, for the Alpaca juice recipe. Are there any ancient Amazon tribes still alive? And what was their life expectancy.

the consolation prize here is that no-one is praying for me. I can understand the efforts of those mentioned above, and I thank you all for your willingness to improve my physical state.

But praying is just downright selfish. After all, the only person who feels good about praying is the person who prays.

 

 Cheers

 

The dingo,

Such a wonderful philosophy ... sense of humour.

I hope we hear a great deal more from you ... on all sorts of things.

 

At least your brain is working well The dingo :). Enjoy your stories which highlight funny human foibles and idiosyncrasies :). Will remember to keep quiet and tell know one next time I'm screaming in agony.

Good god, my brain isn't working well (but kindly pretend I didn't tell you that and especially don't tell the trolls). I meant "no-one", not "know one".

Another good read Dingo. Keep it up!. Always enjoy your musings, look forward to the next one.

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