Creaming it

Head Rambles Posted on by

I have just been into the grocery site.

One of the greatest modern inventions is the online delivery service. I haven’t set foot in a supermarket in years [not counting the local store], and frankly that is a claim I have no intention of breaking. I hate supermarkets.

I was idly browsing the various categories and I came across Milk.

What the fuck has happened to milk?

As a kid I well remember how the milkman would come in the morning, collect the empties and replenish our supply. We didn’t order any specific type of milk [I think there may have been an option for Gold Cap but memory fails there] so the milk we got was standard out-of-the-tit milk. The most noticeable thing was the slightly yellowish portion at the top of the bottle. This was the cream and was the source of much fighting as to who was to get the top-of-the-bottle for their porridge.

I did a search on the grocery site – list all items “milk”. I got 468 results. A lot of those would be the likes of “milk chocolate” but buried within is their offerings of milk. “Milk with extra whey”? “Super Milk”? “Low Fat Super Milk” [surely a contradiction in terms]? “Lactose Free Milk”? “Whole Milk”? “Buttermilk”? The list goes on and on. Sadly there is no mention of the Old Milk – the stuff that comes out of cows and isn’t treated to within an inch of its life.

I miss the old top-of-the-bottle.

 

Catch 22

Head Rambles Posted on by

Yet another night without sleep.

Add to that, a previous night with only a couple of hours.

It’s no wonder the brain is just a little bit scrambled.

On Tuesday in the hospital I mentioned my concerns regarding the lack of kip and they started querying me on the sleeping tablets I use. I had to point out to them that generally the tablets work and I do get to sleep [as per the couple of hours I just mentioned] and the trouble lay in not staying asleep.

I had been giving the topic some thought – I had to have something to think about in those long dark dreary hours after all? I came up with a theory. Waking for no apparent reason could be down to anxiety? But I’m not anxious. There again, I have reason to be anxious even though I’m not. So the theory gradually emerged – what if I am anxious but am not aware of it? It made a weird sort of sense. So I named my new-found discovery Subconscious Anxiety.

The only problem with my new discovery is that it can’t exist. If I am aware of it then it is no longer subconscious and just becomes plain vanilla anxiety which I don’t have. It is the ultimate Catch-22.

So I mentioned this possibility of Subconscious Anxiety to the doctor I happened to be with. Yes, says she, that is a distinct possibility. I was surprised at her lack of excitement at my discovery of a new mental state. She didn’t offer any kind of cure though which was a bit of a bummer. Maybe anxiety is compulsory with cancer and it mustn’t be thwarted?

Yesterday I did a little research. I checked the Interwebs to see if anyone else had come up with my theory. Apparently I had just invented something that is well known and well documented.

Damn!

Here was I hoping to get my name in the Irish Medical Journal.

 

Are diamonds forever?

Head Rambles Posted on by

Daughter called it my Diamond Jubilee.

I suppose there was some numerical significance? Three quarters of a century?

It’s interesting how as a kid, birthdays are enormously significant. Each one represents a step up the ladder away from childhood towards that mysterious world of being an adult. Then, with the passing of time we realise that maybe they aren’t that significant at all and can safely be ignored. But then a stage is reached where birthdays just signify the relentless passing of time and a stark reminder of mortality.

So yesterday arrived not with a bang or even a whimper. To be honest I completely forgot what day it was until I got the cheery text from Daughter. Later on though I had a quiet chuckle. Once again I was stuck in hospital while they ran all sorts of tests. As part of hospital procedure they keep asking me the date of my birth which, like a prisoner number makes sure I am who I am and that hopefully they don’t remove a limb by mistake. Would anyone notice the significance of the date? In fact a couple did so I was treated with a little more cordiality than usual.

There were no wild parties at the Manor yesterday. If I remember correctly the last wild party here was in ’71 [yiz can work out why for yourselves]. People still talk about that one in hushed revered terms. Some in the village never recovered.

No, yesterday was very quiet.

And that’s the way I like it.

 

Weighty matters

Head Rambles Posted on by

I never bothered about my weight.

I am one of those fortunates who can eat what I like and rarely gain or lose a few pounds. I know when I got married I was around the ten stone mark, and a combination of good eating, loads of pints and life in general meant that my weight crept up a bit.

For the last forty five or so years the weight has gently fluctuated around the eleven to twelve stone mark. With a height of over six feet that is bang on the recommended range. The only change over that period was in the waist which spread a little and presumably I lost somewhere else. It meant I had to shelve a few pairs of trousers but what the hell…

I had heard often enough that cancer can cause a loss in weight, Certainly my appetite has changed over the last months and not for the better. The hospital obviously had the same ideas as I am weighed regularly. I didn’t pay much attention.

Last night, just out of curiosity I weighed myself on the scales here at the Manor…….

Nine and a half stone!

Fuck! The last time I was that weight I was probably in short trousers.

I did have my suspicions. My watch which used to sit happily on my wrist has lately taken to migrating up my arm. My wedding ring slips easily off the finger [but not too easily]. I can revert to some of my older clothes and I notice the notches on my belt are tightening a bit.

So now I’m on a diet. I have to avoid “healthy” food. Anything that brags that it’s “sugar free” is to be shunned like the plague. “Diet” on the label? Fuck off! As soon as the appetite returns in full it will be a succession of Mars Bars, curries, chocolates, cakes and anything else that takes my fancy. The coffee shop does a nice line in Chocolate Brownies [almost pure sugar] that I shall delve into. I never avoided any of these before but now I’m going to hit them with a vengeance.

At last – something positive out of the cancer.

[Recommended reading. Heh!]