My alarm goes off. Bleary eyed and disorientated, I fumble around til
I find it. 0540. Thursday. Light is flooding the room. I literally just
went to sleep; how can it be that time already? But it is. And the race
is on. Shower dress tea run for the bus. Wait for the train. Change
onto Victoria Line. Then Northern. It's 7am and I've been on public
transport for 40 minutes. Less than half way through the journey. Deep
breath. Damn. Forgot my breakfast. And exhale..
Get off near the
end of the line after much squishing and sweating and very careful
avoidance of making eye contact with ANYONE in case they think I'm a
total weirdo, or half human, heaven forbid, only to be welcomed to the
outside world by torrential rain for the 30th day in a row followed by
the inevitable fight with my eternally reversible umbrella. Arrive at
work and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. When did those bags
get there? No, I know those ones have always been there. I mean those
ones. Maybe I should wear make up tomorrow..
The ward is just
waking up. Straight into it. Mr. Bond is choking on his tea is he. Yes
I'll re-assess him. No it won't be right now. And Mrs. Middleton doesn't
like her minced moist diet, right. I don't blame the girl. And yes
thank you I know I look tired. I AM tired. And Mr. Pitt has been
coughing through the night but has been eating and drinking lying down.
Nice. Yes I'll do some education. And document it in the notes. And no i
won't forget to update Mr. Smith's daughter on his change in status.
And yes I'll reassess Mrs. Brown's language, I did try to see her
yesterday but.. Well that's wonderful thank you for that. Can I get
through the door now?
A haze of chasing notes and talking to sons
and calling daughters and discussing with staff and writing therapy
plans and rewriting discharge summaries and sending onward referrals and
why haven't I seen an actual patient yet? And how is it 1130 already?
Ahh ha. Mr. Smith. I need to get to him today. Nil by mouth, high risk
of aspiration into the lungs. No entry in the notes from the night shift
Nurse. Hmm. Okay. Not good. Come to think of it, no sign of a Nurse.
Check the charts. No oral cares in over 16 hours. Really not good. Mr.
Smith is not good either. After I use 18 swabs to clean the secretions
away from his gums and the roof of his mouth, he says he doesn't want to
be here anymore. In this hospital? Oh. I see. This world. He's crying. I
look at this intelligent, eloquent man, undoubtedly a shadow of his
former self, and I feel like crying myself. I feel helpless. What can I
say? I wipe his face and hold his hand. I've got to look after him and
do my job, I tell him. Is this my job? Maybe it is now.
Mrs.
Brown has finally got rid of her entourage of Physios and OTs and Rehab
Support Workers and nephews and neighbours and I can get to her. Severe
dyspraxia of speech, talking muscles just not playing ball on command,
but understanding of language fully intact. Today is particularly bad;
she's tired out. Those bloody Physios! One whole session later and
despite some minor progress at a phoneme level, the only compete word
she can get out, which she does at least two dozen times, is "f*ck". My
thoughts exactly, Mrs. Brown ! She collapses in a fit of giggles and I'm
not far behind. Persevere, I tell her, we will get there. She
nods. I hope I am right.
It's half 2 already and maybe I should
eat some lunch now and LOOK there's a Nurse! Hurrah! I'm not sure if you
noticed in the notes or on the handover or from the timetable I made
for his wall or the huge red sign above his bed but Mr. Smith needs oral
cares every 2 hours and I wonder if you could please- I'm sorry?
What's oral care? I bang my head repeatedly against the metaphorical
brick wall that is already deeply indented with the imprint of my face.
Where is the team in this MDT? Is this the NHS I left behind 3 years ago
or has something changed? Again? I breath deeply once more and wonder
if I'm in some kind of parallel universe to real life. Nope. I'm not.
I catch Mrs. Middleton who is no longer bothered about her swallow and
is more interested in telling me that she is a Professor at a top
university and an economics magazine Editor on the side. At least, she
was before this. To be honest, I'd rather talk about that too. That
sounds amazing!! So this swallow then..? A yoghurt, banana, biscuit and
glass of water later and Mrs. Middleton has progressed and is back on
normal fluids normal diet and I am HER FAVOURITE PERSON EVER. I have a
little glow of happiness that I changed someone's life for the better.
Food is my all time favourite thing and I can't even imagine what it
must be like to be deprived of it. It feels good to remember so acutely
why I love this job, despite the challenges it brings. The patients are
just amazing.
The receptionist comes over to give me a hug. Why?
Just because. Just because. That's a lovely reason. It's Friday
tomorrow, she tells me. I know, it's lasted forever but gone in a flash,
this week, I tell her. That is hospital life for you, she says. Is it?
Intense and fast and furious. A flurry of notes and phone calls and
handovers follow before I look up and realise I should have left
already. A while ago. But I need to do MORE. That old chestnut. Yes yes,
but I can only do what I can do Zzz Zzz.. I slink out the ward, head
spinning, mental to-do lists being written frantically. I should really
jot this down but OH RAIN. WHAT A SURPRISE.
If people are keen to
get to work in London in the morning, they are DESPERATE to get home in
the evening.. Much jostling and jabbing and squidging and running and
seriously, what's the rush, people? And why can't we talk to each
other??! It would make the journey so much nicer and I promise I won't
be weird. Kind of promise.. And the heat on this train. How can you be
wearing that jacket in this heat ?! Do Londoners ever feel the heat or
are they born with a natural ability to store heat and use it at a later
date? Someone should look into that. News to keep the fatigue at bay.
Something about Boris Johnson, the market plummeting, more on Istanbul
and is the world ending?? The long white clouds, black beaches and lush,
green hills of New Zealand seem like more than half a hemisphere away
right now. A whole world away. Beautiful Aotearoa. I shake off the pangs
of something I can't quite recognise, or acknowledge, right here and
now, on this crammed, stifling carriage, with rain lashing the windows
and travellers crushed together. This city wants Thursday to finish and
Friday to start.
I get home 1 hour and 58 minutes after leaving
work. I have a 60 second turnaround and head straight to the gym because
I know if I sit down there is not a chance in hell I'll get up again.
One meal, season finale and brew later, it's time for sleep again. Where
did the evening go? I need more evening. More time. As I fade in and out of
consciousness, I think about Mr. Smith. I think about his daughters and
his wife. I think about Mrs. Middleton and her previous life, and wonder
if she'll ever return to her editorial post. Or the teaching post.
I smile at the small successes, happy to have helped, and mull over the rest. My brain swirling in the darkness. Where is the off switch?
My alarm goes off. Bleary eyed and
disorientated, I fumbled around til I find it. 0540. But, to borrow the simple word of Mrs. Brown, THANKF*CKITSFRIDAY.
Tales from Aotearoa
Thursday 7 July 2016
Sunday 28 September 2014
We can but try.
So I discharged this lady on Friday. She was one of them. No, not a favourite patient,
because I learnt the hard way that you can’t have them. But she was one of those that
you care about and try so hard and take home with you in your head and wonder
why oh why is nothing you are doing helping?
Sometimes, we believe in something so much that we flog it
til it’s almost dead. We go hard without stopping to look for progress. Is it
because we are after professional gains? I
want to feel good at my job! Or want personal gains to feel good about
ourselves? Would be so great to feel like
I’ve helped.. Or ‘cause we really care? The
poor woman!! Whatever the reason, it’s destroying and sobering to realise
that nothing you are doing is helping. Like, nothing. But why? Is then that a reflection on you? Or the
problem? Or both? No wait, am I single-handedly responsible for this woman’s
difficulties? Okay, so she had made some
small gains. Baby gains. But I hadn’t “fixed” her. I didn’t want to send this
woman home with almost no language. After a month of rehab. One month. That would be
like admitting I am awful at my job! Well.. maybe I am. No, wait, again. From
one person? Does that make me a bad Therapist? Maybe. Really, though? Really?
Whatever. I thought about it. And talked about it. And
thought about it some more. And then a little bit more. And finally, when I
realised and accepted that I was not
helping, I was able to distance myself from the situation. I could look at the
cold hard facts of the matter. Which are these:
The brain is pretty amazing. But when parts of it die… like,
big fat chunks of it, they ain’t always going to come back to life. Neither
surgery nor therapy nor a magic wand will change that. The end fullstopAMEN.
Okay. Are you sure? Are you SURE? Oh. Okay. Right. So maybe
this isn’t about me after all.. I took
this lady on in a state of bad damage – sadly, beyond repair, for now, anyway. Her
potential for recovery was limited from even before I’d done my very first
assessment. I almost felt silly that I’d kept her as an inpatient for as long as
I did. Everyone loves a good project, ay? But did I really stop to consider if
I was doing the best for her, or for me? I think I just wanted to help. So I
tried and tried and tried.
Of course, there are always things you could have
differently and hindsight is a wonderful thing (as a sidenote, I would pay many
hundreds of pennies, cakes and buttons to have this..), but at what point does
it stop being personal and stop being about you? Not everything is about you. About me. Was everything in my control.
Well.. no. Not really. Did I do my best. I think so. Could I have done more
than that? I don’t think so. Really?
Okay, FINE: NO, I could not have done more than that. I didn’t fix her, and I’m
okay with that.
That is all.
Just try your best, people.
JP
Sunday 4 May 2014
The four laws
It's 0558. I stumble from the murky dark and cold air into the Den half-asleep but suppressing yawns (burpee rewards otherwise..). Lights glaring and music blaring, a hive of activity in stark contrast to the sleepy night I left behind at the door. Our morning's exercises are chalked onto the wall, predictably a mix of pushes, pulls, jumps, jogs, squats, sprints and a list of other strenuous things that you really don't feel like doing at silly o'clock in the morning when you'd probably rather still be in the delicious warmth and comfort of your now-distant bed.. But this routine has a comfort of its own.
Music cuts out at 0600 sharp and Gaia takes centre stage. And after a brief chat with your neighbour, it's soon time for the four laws. My favourite part. The principles of the Arena. The backbone of our training. And what has gradually seeped into my subconsciousness after countless early morning sessions..
"The first law is positivity. When you come into the Den, we ask that you bring your positive energy and attitude, and be positive with everything you do. If you have any negative looks, comments or vibes, we'll ask you to leave the Den and come back with a better, more positive attitude.
The second law is can and love. Two words that we don’t say are can’t and hate. We say that we can do anything we set our minds to and that we love everything that we do.
The third law is 100%. Commit to everything you do with 100%. Keep your form, don't slack on effort and do everything to the very best of your ability.
Finally, the fourth law is leave a profit. Make a place better for having been there. Whether that's picking up a piece of rubbish, putting weights back at the end of battle or G-ing up a fellow warrior, make sure that you leave a positive sign of having been in a room.
And now, for battle.."
Music cuts out at 0600 sharp and Gaia takes centre stage. And after a brief chat with your neighbour, it's soon time for the four laws. My favourite part. The principles of the Arena. The backbone of our training. And what has gradually seeped into my subconsciousness after countless early morning sessions..
"The first law is positivity. When you come into the Den, we ask that you bring your positive energy and attitude, and be positive with everything you do. If you have any negative looks, comments or vibes, we'll ask you to leave the Den and come back with a better, more positive attitude.
The second law is can and love. Two words that we don’t say are can’t and hate. We say that we can do anything we set our minds to and that we love everything that we do.
The third law is 100%. Commit to everything you do with 100%. Keep your form, don't slack on effort and do everything to the very best of your ability.
Finally, the fourth law is leave a profit. Make a place better for having been there. Whether that's picking up a piece of rubbish, putting weights back at the end of battle or G-ing up a fellow warrior, make sure that you leave a positive sign of having been in a room.
And now, for battle.."
I admit, I paid very little attention to
these first laws when I first heard them a good 6 months ago. They probably
went over my head as my mind was occupied with dreams of fluffy duvets, electric
blankets and being sound asleep instead of wide awake at a veryunreasonablehour
of the morning..
I also remember the first time I was attempting
a wall-to-exit of caterpillar dead legs.. (You don’t even want to know what
that is!) I HATED it. There, I said it. I thought to myself this is painful. I’m not enjoying it. I can't
even do it. In fact, it’s killing me and HOLD UP - WHY am I actually here
anyway?? I only gave the four laws a shot when I looked around at everyone else and realised there was an inevitable feeling of shame and failure that was barring the only exit
route.. URGH. Okay.
Positive attitude. I want to do this.
Can. And I can do it. Cheeeeesey. BUT
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have that conversation with myself in my head and that I actually DID find it easier
second time round. I got to the end and had a little imaginary high five with err, me, when
I realised I’d been so busy convincing myself that I could do it instead of being all groany and whingey and telling
myself that I couldn’t, that I genuinely had enjoyed it. Who knew?! I, for one,
was amazed. Next time I heard those four laws, my ears pricked up.
Positivity: We all love having a good moan.
A right old rant. A “the whole world is against me” day. Evvverything is
negative. And then we take our negativity and put it onto others. “Joe Bloggs:
whyyy is it Monday AGAIN? Hate my job. 5 days til the weekend #worksucks #FML” Sound
familiar? (You know who you are!) And somewhere in the back of your mind, probably without even
realising, you’ve taken on just a wee little bit of someone else’s negative
vibe.. Blocking it out, that negative energy in the workplace, online, in
backhanded comments, in words spoken directly in the line of fire or perceived
in the subtle mood of a room.. It’s not easy. Negativity, it’s powerful and
contagious. But ever caught a smile? Or a giggle?! Positivity is infectious too,
no? Use it!
Can / love: How much more likely are you to fail
if you tell yourself you will? You’re surely setting yourself up to do so
before you’ve even begun; you might as well quit on the spot. Self-fulfilling
prophecy, in a way. Back yourself. With a strong mindset. And while you’re at it, why waste energy
resenting something when you could turn it around into something you like?
There will always be a plus, something to be learnt out of every situation.
Kiwi ingenuity and style is based upon a ‘can-do’ attitude, creativity and
positivity and an enjoyment of and appreciation for some of the simplest things. SO much more fun
than can’t and hate! BOOM.
100%: I tend to take a lot on. It’s easy to
do with all the opportunities we are presented with. How much satisfaction can
you feel when you know you have only given something 50%? Okay. So you can’t do
it all. But pick what you can do, commit to it and give it your absolute best
shot. 100%.
Leave a profit: This is my favourite law.
It’s the easiest one to carry out and it’s the highest impacting one, too.
You’ve got to go through that door. So hold it open. You think that dress looks
really nice. So say so. You are stepping over that rubbish. Just pick it up. You
are walking past a stranger. So smile at them. Why the hell not?! Leaving a
profit can be on the smallest scale ever, a subtle gesture that no one may ever even
know about, or it can be an open act of kindness that is felt by everyone. Pass
something on to someone else. Make a place better for having been there. So good.
Sometimes it’s hard. Blocking out negative
energy from others can be draining. Committing to everything 100% can burn that
candle real low. Definitely been there.. Hyping yourself up to believe you can do something that you
think you really can’t can feel a bit pointless. And smiling when you enter a
room just to leave a positive mark on its occupants when really, sometimes, the thing you
most want to do is screw your face up and shout “WAHH”.. Yeah, all a bit of an effort. It’s not always easy. Especially not at 0600.. But so worth it! These four laws mean
something now. And hey - what's the harm in at least
trying?
Monday tomorrow, folks. Chin up, it’s gonna
be a good week :)
JP
Monday 10 February 2014
Patience and patients
So I played this
hockey game. And I got this niggle. The “hmm, I’ll stretch again when I get
home..” kind of niggle. The “maybe I should have a long bath” kind of niggle.
The “perhaps I best skip that run tomorrow” kind of niggle. You know the kind.
Nothing major. No stress.
Next day: Yeah,
that kind of hurts.
That weekend: All
good. Woo! Back to training on Monday morning.
Monday afternoon: Oh
WOW. YeahItotallycantwalknow. Sweet.
Cue: Crutches,
painkillers and a week of desk work on doctor’s orders.
I cannot stand
feeling less than 100%. True, no one likes being on poor form or incapacitated
in some way, but waiting for something to heal has to be THE most frustrating
thing ever. Possibly more frustrating than getting to work and realizing you’ve
left your lunch at home (especially when it’s Thai beef salad). Than hitting
every red light when you’re in a rush (why
does that always happen to me? Or maybe I’m just always in a rush so the odds
are higher.. Hmm.). Than realizing there is no milk left after making a
much-needed brew (Friday 4pm desk still full of reports OH LORD REALLY??). All
these trivial things - and the list is endless - YEAH, more frustrating than
all of them. You feel like a bit of a pansy. Bit of a lemon. Bit of a wuss. You
can’t do anything. You’re just a
drain on everyone. You just have to sit
there and wait. Wait! In pain. With
ice. Pain and ice and helplessness and lethargy and how much longer do I have
to do this please? And the lesson “rest now to avoid certain aggravation of
above injury later” just really does take an awful long time for me to learn.
What injury?
But on Monday
afternoon, as I was being wheelchaired out of hospital by my boss and
frog-marched (metaphorically, of course, as that would be quite hard to do in a
wheelchair) to the nearest ED clinic due to being in an “unacceptable level of
pain”, I had my first taste of what it would be like to be one of our patients.
I think about my
patients a lot, not just because they are absolutely amazing, that goes without
saying really, but because they are the people I spend most of my time with.
Monday, though, and then the rest of the week, was really the first time I have
ever considered what it must actually be like to be one of them. This was a
little tiny niggle in my lower leg that, okay, was actually a torn muscle that
swelled my entire calve to my knee and creaked with excess fluid and flared up
with pain and swelling again after being used gently for anymore than five or
ten minutes. And my week since then has been vastly different.
But what about
stroke? What about the people I see every day? Those who can’t move as they
did, or at all? Who are still there but can’t talk to their families because
they’ve lost language function? Who can’t swallow normal food and are surviving
on pureed diet and thickened fluids? Forget a week or two. Some of these
people’s lives will never be the same
again.
We live life to
the full. We walk, we talk, we run, we leap, we laugh, we joke, we jump, we
think, we drink, we drive, we play, we say, we breath. With ease. We live.
We only ever
notice something was working so incredibly faultlessly, so much like a
perfectly-tuned piano, so exactly as it was made to… when something goes wrong.
And when we do, wellll, it’s like the world has ended. I cannot even imagine what it must be like to have an
event that changes my life permanently. Unless we’ve been through it directly,
I suppose we can only imagine.
And so this has of
course made me consider how I treat these people. Yep, left MCA infarct. Um hmm.
He can’t swallow. Right. Or talk. Yeah. Seen it before. Okay. Oropharyngeal dysphagia. Patient unsafe for
oral intake of diet and fluids; at risk of aspiration. Place on puréed diet and moderately thick fluids; review
in 2/7. Expressive aphasia; to be formally assessed. Casual. Next. Hold up: this is a patient. A
person. Do I ever stop to think how this is actually
affecting them? I’m not sure I honestly even know how to do that.. Do I
actually acknowledge what it is that has just happened to them? Do I consider how
helpless and frustrated and incapacitated they might be feeling? I’d like to
think I do, but.. DO I REALLY?
I’m not sure.
I saw 3-minute-long
video on a friend’s facebook page a while back. It stopped me in my tracks and
has since had an impact on my reaction to several different situations I’ve
found myself in. I’ve passed it round my colleagues, I value its message so
highly. Sympathy is not always right in these times. How can you sympathise
when you’ve never actually been there yourself? Empathy.
http://www.upworthy.com/my-wife-didnt-get-why-i-was-so-into-this-woman-but-after-about-40-seconds-we-were-both-obsessed
http://www.upworthy.com/my-wife-didnt-get-why-i-was-so-into-this-woman-but-after-about-40-seconds-we-were-both-obsessed
I feel awful in a
way to have even been grumbling about something so minor. The next time I’m running
around the pitch, or training in the Den, or playing football on the beach, or
pushing a trolley around a shop, or walking down the road, or eating a normal
meal, or sitting at the table, or having a conversation, or typing this, or
sleeping well, or breathing unaided, or just being, I hope I remember to appreciate what it is I have that is
still, thank goodness,
working.
Take care all.
JP
Thursday 30 January 2014
The kindness of strangers
"Isn't it strange to think you knew none of these people a few months ago?"
This is what was said to me, in as many words, a few days ago whilst sitting with friends, and as I approach the '6 months in New Zealand' mark, it has made me think: actually, everybody in my daily life was a stranger to me just a few months ago. How did I get to now?
I arrived with 37kg of luggage. Family 5 hours' drive away. And not one single friend. Just one contact and the promise of a room for a month, until I got on my feet.
Well, I'm still in that room, and I am well and truly on my feet. But how did that happen? How did this full and busy life build up around me? It has dawned on me over the past couple of days that most of what I have, what has shaped my life here and certain experiences that have stood out, has come from strangers. Unnecessary gestures and open invitations. Bits and bobs and thingymagigs. From absolute strangers. Maybe friends now, but initially, I was given a lot, an awful lot, from complete and utter strangers.
An iron. From someone who overheard I needed one.
My bus fare when I realised I'd left my wallet at home.
A room as a guest for a month. And unlimited steak (yes I eat it now..). Sirloin. Or scotch, I'm not fussy..
A lift to every hockey match.
A piano. A real piano! For free?!
The first invitation to drinks after work.
The offer of joining in on a fishing weekend away.
A long ride home from Whangnui, halfway down the island.
The invitation on a very first meeting to gatecrash a long-standing group of best friends' New Year break.
Being asked to a girly spa trip..
A cooked dinner and large white on my first day of homsickness.
A welcome sign on my first day at work.
A coffee when the card machine was broken but it was clear I probably never needed a coffee more in my life.The promise of a fully stocked wine fridge and unlimited sleepovers.
The trust given in confiding in me. And knowing it could be returned.
A snickers at mid-afternoon on the ward just because.
The use of a car over Christmas, just so I could be with family.
A weekend in Hawkes' Bay being spoilt. Badly.
A hug at just the right time during a very rare bad day in the office.
Being picked up at silly o'clock.
And an invitation to join a friend and her family for a few days on their annual summer holiday. Where this was said. And where I hadn't felt for a second as though I was in the company of anyone other than friends.
This is all from strangers. People I didn't know less than 6 months ago. Had never met. Had never heard of. Did not even know existed. But these people, their warmth, generosity and their random acts of kindness are what has shaped my life today. I have been welcomed and treated like a friend from the word go. Maybe that would happen anywhere. Maybe it's a kiwi thing. I wouldn't know and I'm not about to debate it.
I am just happy knowing that these "strangers" are in my life.
Be kind, people, you never know how it may make a difference.
JP
This is what was said to me, in as many words, a few days ago whilst sitting with friends, and as I approach the '6 months in New Zealand' mark, it has made me think: actually, everybody in my daily life was a stranger to me just a few months ago. How did I get to now?
I arrived with 37kg of luggage. Family 5 hours' drive away. And not one single friend. Just one contact and the promise of a room for a month, until I got on my feet.
Well, I'm still in that room, and I am well and truly on my feet. But how did that happen? How did this full and busy life build up around me? It has dawned on me over the past couple of days that most of what I have, what has shaped my life here and certain experiences that have stood out, has come from strangers. Unnecessary gestures and open invitations. Bits and bobs and thingymagigs. From absolute strangers. Maybe friends now, but initially, I was given a lot, an awful lot, from complete and utter strangers.
An iron. From someone who overheard I needed one.
My bus fare when I realised I'd left my wallet at home.
A room as a guest for a month. And unlimited steak (yes I eat it now..). Sirloin. Or scotch, I'm not fussy..
A lift to every hockey match.
A piano. A real piano! For free?!
The first invitation to drinks after work.
The offer of joining in on a fishing weekend away.
A long ride home from Whangnui, halfway down the island.
The invitation on a very first meeting to gatecrash a long-standing group of best friends' New Year break.
Being asked to a girly spa trip..
A cooked dinner and large white on my first day of homsickness.
A welcome sign on my first day at work.
A coffee when the card machine was broken but it was clear I probably never needed a coffee more in my life.The promise of a fully stocked wine fridge and unlimited sleepovers.
The trust given in confiding in me. And knowing it could be returned.
A snickers at mid-afternoon on the ward just because.
The use of a car over Christmas, just so I could be with family.
A weekend in Hawkes' Bay being spoilt. Badly.
A hug at just the right time during a very rare bad day in the office.
Being picked up at silly o'clock.
And an invitation to join a friend and her family for a few days on their annual summer holiday. Where this was said. And where I hadn't felt for a second as though I was in the company of anyone other than friends.
This is all from strangers. People I didn't know less than 6 months ago. Had never met. Had never heard of. Did not even know existed. But these people, their warmth, generosity and their random acts of kindness are what has shaped my life today. I have been welcomed and treated like a friend from the word go. Maybe that would happen anywhere. Maybe it's a kiwi thing. I wouldn't know and I'm not about to debate it.
I am just happy knowing that these "strangers" are in my life.
Be kind, people, you never know how it may make a difference.
JP
Wednesday 22 January 2014
The toothbrush list
Okay so a blog. It’s technically been
started. Now what? What is one supposed to write about? Anything, I hear you
say? Anything? Hmm. Alright, then…
I have decided to sign up to a challenge. A
self-inflicted challenge, in a way. Yes, I realise this is not
the usual way to do things, but sometimes, your biggest challenges come from
the limits you set yourself. This challenge is about health, it’s about
fitness, it’s about motivation, it’s about self. It involves eating clean and
lean. It involves exercise and discipline. How good can your body be if you do all
the things it needs, and do them well? Yada yada yada, you’ve heard it all
before. Let’s call the challenge ‘Bob’. I won’t bore you with the details of
that part of it (not just now, anyway..), but the element of the challenge that’s
really caught my eye is the ‘toothbrush list’. Things that I want to do
everyday for the next month. So I picked 3.
Okay, exercise everyday for a minimum of 20
minutes, even on non-training days, whether that be a walk round the lake after
work or a quick run. Secondly, to have an absolute minimum of 7 hours’ sleep a
night. I know, it really should be 8, but some weeks I function on
somewhere between 5 and 6, so a guaranteed 7 sounds like a dream. And finally,
another 20 minutes a day for me.
Easy.
Yep. No problem. Should be sweet. Right.
Hmm. Okay. Wait a mo. Hold up. Say, whaat? Alright so it’s late, yeah, and I’m
shattered and I just want my bed and I remember I’ve not done my 20 minutes of
exercise.. What, so I’m just going to do jump up and down for 20 minutes doing
lunges and burpees and push ups? Yep.
Ah.
Right, so I’m in
bed about to do lights out as it’s coming up to 7 hours before my alarm will be
going off and a friend back home messages on the off-chance I can skype.. Well,
we’ve not spoken in a month, what am I supposed to do, say “no”? Yep.
Oh.
Okay, so I’ve
been up for training since before the crack of dawn at 0530, been in work for what feels like 3 and a half days,
caught up with a friend, been out for dinner, got home late and then realise
I’ve still got to find 20 minutes for “myself”, and that’s not taking into
account the fact that there is a very fast-closing window in which to catch
those elusive 7 hours’ sleep.. Surely I should be hitting the sack but you’re seriously
telling me now is the time to read, write, chill out, to have pretentious,
self-indulgent and very pointless “me time”? Yep.
Time. For me.
Just for me. Like, to do things.. for me. Me
time. No one else, 100% me time spent having time on meeee. Me. Me? Ummm… Yep.
I see.
And these were genuinely my thought
processes. And I realised for the first time just how little “me time” I
actually have. My real first thought was a cross between “what is one actually supposed
to do with time to oneself?!” and “WOW think of all the things I could do!!”
Things I haven’t done in ages. Play piano. Play guitar. Play cards. Make cards.
Make cakes. Decorate cakes. Drink a G&T in the sun. Read a book in the
garden. Do both the above at the very same time!! Sing! To the radio. To
anything. Write. Write that blog I’ve been meaning to start..! Plant some
vegetables. Plant some flowers. Draw some flowers. Have a bath. With smellies. And candles! I don’t even like smellies.
Or baths.. But hurrah, the possibilities are endless! I have 20 minutes a day to
legitimately do anything I like, anything at all!
This was quickly followed by a blunt,
sobering and slightly puzzling question.. So 20 minutes is 1/72 of a day. That
is such a pitifully pathetic amount
of time to spend on the most important person in one’s life. WHY have I not
been doing this the whole time? My whole life?
Why am I not doing things I love everyday? Every single day? Maybe these are the things we need to be finding time
for. Letter writing to whoever and singing to no one and thinking about nothing and walking to
nowhere and hell, even baths. With smellies. The day is mine, mine alone, one
whole day, everyday, and I give it
away to other places, other things, other people and continuously forget to
save just a little bit for me, myself and I. I have forever been chronically busy. It's a recurring theme. I cannot stand having nothing to do. I am Queen
of The Double-Ended Burn of a Candle. I struggle to see an evening spent doing
nothing
as anything other than a huge waste. I feel
cheated out of an opportunity. How dare you rob my night, Time, how simply dare you!! So inevitably, my days are
full and long and tiring. Fun and satisfying, but rarely for “me”. I think this
one, and the 2 other aims on the toothbrush list, are going to take some
serious work. It feels like a bit of a shift in mindset. They suddenly seem
quite important and I wonder how I’ve missed them out for so long. How rare is
it to get a good night's sleep most nights of the week? Or to have that nice
post-exercise buzz routinely? Or to do something you really, really enjoy and
love every single day?
It’s going to require commitment,
dedication and a conscious effort to ignore the subconscious habits of a very
long time indeed. But I’m in.
Are you?
JP
JP
Monday 20 January 2014
The beginning
So here we go. A blog. One of those things
I’ve been “meaning to get around to” since forever and a day and yet never
quite have. Well, now I’ve been challenged to start one, and those that know me
very well will know the best way to get me to do something is to bet me to do
it.. I somehow work best when someone tells me I can’t do something. Is that normal?! I’m sure
you’ll hear more about that challenge later on.. But for now, I thought it
appropriate to share with you, whoever “you” may be, whether the anonymous ghosts
of hollow cyberspace or my nearest and dearest, the first extract of my then-new
diary:
“5th August 2013
0830
Dubai International Airport
Well. I’ve finally done it. What I wasn’t sure I’d ever actually do; get on a plane and move my life to New Zealand, land I fell in love with over 3 years ago. No, I’m not there yet, but sitting in this “Paul” café in Dubai’s shiny, sprawling airport, I don’t think there’s any turning back now. And nor do I want there to be.
Saying goodbye to loved family and friends over a tiringly indefinite amount of time is probably the hardest thing I have ever had to do. The sight of Jess jogging to keep me in her eyesight as I disappeared through to security and departure gates, although fairly comical, did also make me feel immense sadness. A little bit like my heart was breaking, the feeling seemed almost a physical pain in my chest. When will I next see her again? Or Andy? Or Mum and Dad? Or any of my family and friends? Why am I leaving all these people I love?! If it ain’t broke, etc, etc.. This is what I mean about maybe never really believing I’d do it. I had the interview, got the job, said “yes” and went through the motions. And then it was now.
As I sit here, in this pathetic excuse at a French “café”, with 37kg to my name, two teddies in my bag and what feels like a 16 year old mind trapped in the body of a 26 year old, I have probably never been more scared in my life. Or felt more alone. What the ACTUAL EFF am I doing?! Even now, I don’t think it’s properly hit me. I’m kind of hoping it does when I land in Wellington, or else we might have some problems..
But now I think about it, I’m bloody lucky. To have been offered my dream job in my favourite country, it’s incredibly, really. Nowhere near any of the family, but I suppose you can’t have it all! New places, new people, new adventures. I do believe I just smiled at the thought! I’m proud. Proud that I wanted to do this, and did. It’s BIG. But the time is now. Come on, New Zealand! LET’S DO THIS.
JP”
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