I woke up this morning in time to listen to BBC Radio Four Sunday worship, which during Lent is taking an unusual form. It explores the scripture theme and readings set for the day in the manner of an Ignatian retreat. There's music and select prayers, but explanations of the texts and reflection upon them are woven together in a way that encourages the listener to imagine understand and dig deep into their meaning. It worked very well I thought, and look forward to the rest of the series. I read through Morning prayer before breakfast and the Eucharist of the day afterwards, then went out for a walk in the rain down to the weir.
The flood water did rise a bit more last night and washed over the footpath, leaving some fresh silt in the puddles, but the water level had dropped half a metre by mid morning. The force of yesterday's torrent washed a heavy tree stump off the top of the fish trap, where it's been stranded for several months. Heaven knows how much further downstream it's travelled now. The river level needs to drop another half a metre before we can see how the islands of stones in the river bed have been re-shaped, and what other big debris has been caught up with them. How the river bed looks changes over the years, sculpted by the water.
After lunch we went out again down to the weir, and walked up the riverside track to Western Avenue. It was very muddy and unpleasantly slippery to negotiate, and left me feeling quite tired when we got back, Clare baked a bara brith for tea for the first time in a while - good cheer to come home to.
This Tuesday I have a long overdue telephone consultation with pharmacology expert about blood pressure medication as I was having such problems keeping it under control with the additional dosing of doxazosin at various strengths before the last operation. Since then my blood pressure has been less high. It seemed nevertheless that the extra medication was making me feel slightly faint and dizzy.
Then I remembered that such symptoms could also be due to inner ear blockage and mis-alignment of neck vertebrae and pelvis, due to the presence of the open wound. Muscles instinctually adjust to shield it from painful pressure. It's possible to mitigate these conditions with simple physical exercises to compensate when needed, so I was able to get rid of the headache and dizzyness. I thought I would drop the doxazosin and see how I got on without it, but stopped checking my blood pressure occasionally. So, I thought I should do so before taking to the consultant, and was horrified to find that it was sky high again, which perhaps explains why I have been rather short tempered lately. So, I have resumed taking the dozazosin, starting with a low dose, to see what impact it has, and increase it if needs be. I have spare pills to be going on with. I'll be interested to hear what the specialist has to offer when I tell him all this.
In all other respects, I'm fit and well, except for this wound, which is a fundamental source of stress, as it's so close to the vagus nerve that runs through the central nervous system. Living with this must have something to do with the difficulty of keeping blood pressure near to normal. Long ago I stopped being anxious about the unending wait for another round of treatment.
The pandemic has added to the wait and that's accepted, cannot be fought against. I've survived a stressful year of infection risk, to reach the point of being vaccinated. I don't find it that difficult to live under restrictions, as two years worth of surgery has obliged me to come to terms with this, and be grateful to be alive. Normalising my blood pressure relies on completing the surgical process and healing. It's a matter of how it can be made less worse in the meanwhile. Just think - there are thousands of people made vulnerable by forced delays in their treatment regime, thousands hoping that they won't become collateral damage in the battle against this pandemic.
Clare watched an episode of the highly acclaimed series about the AIDS pandemic 'It's a sin', with some powerful acting and a deeply distressing story exposing people's range of reactions when the nature of a then incurable disease is uncovered and linked exclusively at the start to gay people enjoying new found freedoms in the seventies and eighties. As we've moved on so far in forty years, I find it hard to revisit and decided I didn't want to watch when the series started. Tonight the telly was on and I was sitting in the room uploading photos. I couldn't avoid getting the general drift of the episode, but what I did find disturbing was what I consider to be pornographic portrayals of gay sex on mainstream TV. 'If it can be seen it must be seen' is the contemporary maxim, interpreted as if we can shove it in your face and shock you, we'll do it for the sake of it.
Later we watched the final episode of 'Finding Alice'. A superb talented cast saddled with interpreting a bizarre if slightly believable tragic plot in a slightly comic way. A realistic look at the impact of bereavement on a family not expecting it? Or just playing about with it? Nothing shocking here, unless you're shocked that nice middle class ladies swear with the same disregard for grammar or context as football hooligans. Relieved that it's all over at last.
On the Sunday when the church thinks about Jesus in the desert, I feel that we're also in the stuck out in a cultural wilderness, a dearth of dignity and meaning, marked by hunger for sensation and excitement. Or perhaps it's just me coming to realise that old age is just one long desert, where you have to search diligently for oases that nourish and sustain.
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