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

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

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

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

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:

“5^th 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”