Error corrected, just in time

A grey drizzly day. It was after midnight when I got to sleep last night. It took me extra time to wind down after recording and editing late in the evening. When I prepared to say Morning Prayer I realised that I'd mistaken the date when preparing this week's prayer video due tomorrow not today. I need to re-record the correct Office before tomorrow, at least the variable sections, and edit them together with the other parts. 

My morning meds had a more pronounced effect than usual. I was sleepy and light headed until I walked in the park for three quarters of an hour. Clare's study group members arrived for their session and I spent the rest of the morning recording the correct Office for Wednesday. A slow process, juggling with half a dozen small audio files and replacing them in the sound track. Surprisingly by the time I had half finished the chore I was alert and clear headed. 

Meanwhile, Clare cooked penne with a veggie sugo for lunch. I walked in the drizzle again for another hour afterwards, and then worked on the audio edit. After supper I revised the video slide show which I made last week. It was trickier than expected, as cloud based file components were slow updating and displaying. Eventually, I uploaded the video to YouTube relieved to have noticed my mistake early enough to rectify rather than having to apologise for the omission. That's enough for today. Time for early bed.

Recording

Overcast with occasional showers this morning. I slept well and didn't wake up until nine. A reminder from Ovo Energy prompted me to renew our household energy tariff for the coming supply contract year. I understand that wholesale energy prices fluctuate, affecting our bills, there's a lot of information to check out. It's quite well presented on the website, though there's an element of ambiguity referring to accepting  the new tariff offer as a 'switch' when it's described as a  'Loyalty' tariff, which in my thinking means no change at all.

I was pleased to have an email from Dr Hughes' secretary acknowledging my message to him. It may be a while before I get to see him, but at least I can be sure of an appointment with him some time soon. 

I went out for a mid morning walk as it helps to dissipate the effect of the meds and my head stays clearer for longer if I do. I cooked lunch while Clare went to town to buy a replacement printer cartridge. Sausages with mushooms abd onion, plus veggies. 

I recorded the first chapter of 'Retrieving Jesus'. It took over an hour. The chapters are dense, lengthy with quotes and anecdotes. Will the finished product serve as an introduction to discussion on the theme of conversion? The text can be read in half the time with space in between to digest the narrative. Will anyone listen in the absence of or preference toca book in hand? Have I bitten off more than I can chew? 

I walked for nearly an hour at sunset. Then after supper continued work on editing the recorded audio. It took me three hours to reduce the file to less than an hour while Clare was out at choir. I hope I haven't overdone it. 

Quiet healing

Rain in the night, lighter showers this morning. I woke up early, and despite not sleeping long enough, felt fairly clear headed, and listened to 'Sunday Worship' on Radio Four before getting up. It was a recorded service of Morning Prayer for Candlemass from St Giles' Parish Church in Wrexham, with Froncysyllte male voice choir contributing several items. It certainly wasn't Choral Matins as we know it, but the parts recited together were clear and coherent. The homily was about the nature of waiting. 

I was slow sorting myself out after breakfast, as I had a shower and washed my hair.  I was annoyed with myself for failing to put my fitbit back on when I got dressed afterwards. It means having to guesstimate when I've had enough exercise for the day. Clare left for church before me, and was waiting for the service to start, and for me to arrive when I caught her up in St Catherine's. On time, just! The brisk walk was refreshing and helped clear away the side effects of the meds.

We were about forty adults and kids. Ordinand Jeremy preached about waiting, starting from an anecdote about the loyalty of pet dogs waiting for their deceased masters to return. Fr Sion apologised for the lack of Lent books ordered for an ecumenical study session,  but not yet supplied. 

The idea crossed my mind, of recording a chapter each week for circulation to people signed up to order the book for the course, as and when it arrives. This would give them an opportunity to prepare the session in advance. I mentioned it to Sion who agreed it would be a useful thing to do. Fortunately Fr Andrew has a copy of the book in question, and agreed to lend it to me, so I can get busy and record a reading of the first session in good time.

After lunch I went to bed and slept for a refreshing hour instead of sleeping in my armchair. Then I went for a walk as far as Sophia Gardens and back along the Taff to Llandaff Fields. The sound of a Song Thrush duetting or competing for attention with a Great Tit was enchanting, I called in to the Padel courts 'Square + Fair' cafe through the side entrance to use a toilet. While I was in a cubicle the external shutters descended noisily without me realising. It was a surreal dreamlike experience. When I came out of the toilet I found myself in a strange darkened corridor with metal walls, and wondered where I was, but didn't panic. I went along the corridor to where light was shining through a glass door. Mercifully it was open, and I entered the cafe, just about to close at sunset. 

I was reminded of the sensation of disorientation I experienced after the stroke, unable to identify where I was in surroundings familiar but unrecognisable. I felt so good about coping without bewilderment that I laughed out loud telling the barista what happened. My brain was reacting at almost normal speed to an unexpected change and I didn't panic! A healing dimension of my stroke recovery seems to be revealing itself quietly - a gift to thank God for indeed.

Before supper Fr Andrew dropped off the promised Lent book: Retrieving Jesus - the way of love, by Bishop Marianne Edgar Budde. Time to set up a laptop with my digital microphone and find out how easy it will be to configure the kit for making a good clear voice recording. This took the rest of the evening until it was time for bed. 

Found before I knew it was lost

When I woke up and looked out of the bedroom window as the sun was emerging behind the rooftops there were strips of orange cloud running east to west along the horizon in an otherwise clear sky. Shepherd's warning. By nine it was raining, overcast under cloud not as low as usual. I took my meds and was relieved that the toxic head reaction was less pronounced that it usually is. Heaven knows why. Maybe drinking a pint of water to start the day is making a difference. If so, why isn't this mentioned in the medication prescription?

Clare cooked pancakes for breakfast while I was getting up but after eating, I fell asleep in my armchair and slept for another hour. Meanwhile, the sky cleared and the sun shone, so I went out for some fresh air and walked for nearly an hour, feeling light headed and slightly unsteady. Clare was eating the lunch she'd cooked when I got back. I hadn't intended to be out for so long. Maybe I was walking slower than usual to cause me to be late. 

Helen, a lady who lives on Llanfair Road whose husband Dave, a regular walker in Llandaff Fields, about the same age as me, tapped on the door and handed me my National Express coach card. She noticed the card, lodged in the frame of the Penhill Road bus shelter, recognised my name and tracked me down. Such a surprise! I hadn't noticed that I'd lost it. The last time I was at the bus shelter was when I caught the bus into town with Clare yesterday. I remember putting my wallet with the TFW free bus pass on the scanner and it responding with an error message, so I had to repeat the scan. This was unexpected and I reopened my wallet to be sure it scanned correctly a second time. 

This must have been the moment when it fell out of the adjacent wallet compartment, as my attention was distracted, though I was half aware of something falling out of the corner of my impaired eye, just not enough to look on the floor below. I don't know who picked it up and lodged it in the bus shelter window frame, only that a neighbour was returning it to me. I might never have discovered how I lost it if she hadn't looked at it and known me. When I examined the wallet, the mouth of the slot where it lives appears to be wider than other slots. Wear and tear I suppose.

A delicious veggie pasta lunch cooked by Clare. I ate so much spinach green tagliatelli, a favourite of mine, that I had no room for the apple pie she baked. With a full stomach I slept for another hour, not because I was tired but because the meds induce drowsiness. When I went shopping afterwards, the light headed and drowsy sensation accompanied me. It was as if I was sleepwalking. I was glad to reach home before sunset, now at five o'clock, and drink a mug of coffee in an effort to wake myself up.

A new episode of 'Astrid - Murders in Paris' appeared overnight for streaming and I watched it as the toxic effect of the meds wore off. The stories are often quite complex, but today's episode was special, when a murder investigation reveals that the victim was assassinated, with French intelligence service and the CIA secretly competing rather than co-operating to cover up a diplomatic scandal. Rafaële and Astrid find themselves 'recruited into games spies play. The plot is complex, but comedic, laugh out loud crime drama, with deep threads of sadness running through the secondary storyline. It's brilliant, unusual and in my opinion, award winning entertainment.

By way of comparison I watched an episode of 'Patience' this evening, the anglicised retelling of 'Astrid - Murders in Paris' starring Ella Maisie Purvis as an autistic archivist who is in real life autistic. She's a fine actor portraying the archivist as shy hesitant, intuitive, less remote than Astrid whose IQ is very high, her memory encyclopaedic and logical reasoning clinically precise. While the stories have a measure of charm and sentiment about them, they aren't humorous or whimsical, a tad earnest, to my mind.

By bed time the worst effects of the medication wore off, in time for an early night and hopefully better sleep.

 Neurodiverse for sure, but with a different set of neurodivergent conditions

Noteworthy improvement

I went to bed at eleven and fell asleep quickly as I was tired and relaxed, but woke up just after midnight with the thought I had not taken the statin to sleep on, as recommended by the GP. I couldn't work out from looking at the content of the 'blister' pack whether I had or not. Days of the week aren't marked on it as they are with many meds on sale. I have to mark them on each aluminium foil 'blister' as a precaution against forgetting to take one. The trouble is, ink from most pens will not deposit on the foil surface,  but it will leave a visible impression, some clearer than others. On this occasion the mark wasn't clear enough to decipher, and I couldn't be sure my memory wasn't playing tricks on me. I could have woken up from a dream about taking night time medication. I gave up inspecting the pack and went back to sleep, and took the statin when I got up instead after five and a half hours' poor sleep. A miserable start to the day, light headed, ill coordinated, slow thinking. 

We took the bus to town after breakfast to buy Clare a new winter coat. First to John Lewis, then M&S, and several other clothes stores. Somehow despite the 'toxic head' I coped with crowds of shoppers and painfully bland incessant upbeat background muzak, processed by sound editing tweaks until it doesn't sound natural but artificial, composed by AI even if it wasn't. 

Five months ago I'd have been overwhelmed by the stimulus of sound, movement and bright light, driven to  flee from the shopping mall in a state near panic. My peripheral vision impairment seems to be reduced as well. What I see is no longer like looking ahead wen entering a tunnel. It too is a notable improvement.

After two hours traipsing around the shops, lunchtime approached. I was worried that I'd start to feel faint as well as light headed, as hunger too over and my blood sugar dropped, so we hunted for a fast food fix, A couple of Greggs sausage rolls for me and a slice of pizza for Clare. We ate, sitting on a stone bench by the City Library on The Hayes, surrounded by pigeons ready to snatch from our hands any food they could reach. Not the most aesthetic of picnicking experiences on damp grey day. We decided to make up for this by dining out nearer home later in the evening. Unable to find any coat Clare wanted to buy, we decided to go home, and try again another day after a preliminary on-line search.

Having not received a response to my letter delivered a week ago to the surgery asking for a referral to the Tom Davies the consultant I saw in December I decided to email directly his appointments secretary with my request for a referral, giving as a reason for doing so, his advice when I last saw him of making a note of the impact for different medications to establish which one was causing me problems, This was my way of reporting back and requesting a second opinion about the appropriateness of taking statins which impair my quality of life, and doing so while my brain function in many ways is improving. We'll see if this gets a response.

At six we walked to Emmanuela's Italian restaurant in Pontcanna Street for supper early. Seafood risotto for Clare and spaghetti bolognese for me. On returning home we listened on BBC Sounds to yesterday's and tonight's missed episodes of 'The Archers'. Perhaps because of tiredness tonight, when I came to write this, my mind was blank and I need to ask Clare what we did this morning. Once she said "Shopping" my memory recall sprang back to life and I spent the rest of the evening writing this blog, before bed. Tonight I have extra reasons to thank God for noteworthy improvements in my condition. I look forward to there being a matching improvement in my medication regime.

Competing crimmies

Cold and cloudy today. It felt a lot colder than the 7C actual temperature. I had an adequate night's sleep. After taking my meds and having breakfast I felt light headed - not quite dizzy or faint, but a bit unsteady on my feet. After saying Morning Prayer sitting in my armchair I slept for another hour and a half, though I'd intended to go out for a walk before doing anything else. I was going to to cook lunch, but by the time I woke up Clare was already cooking fettucini with a smoked fish sugo. It was delicious. 

After lunch I went for a walk in Pontcanna Fields and along the Taff trail. It was bitterly cold in the wind. I went home, swapped my rain jacket for a padded one, then went out again and walked another half hour to complete my daily step quota. By this time the 'toxic head' and limb stiffness feelings of a negative reaction to statins had worn off. I'm still waiting for a response from the surgery to the letter I delivered a week ago asking for a referral to the cardio consultant I saw before Christmas. I think it's time I wrote to him directly.

Having made the Morning Prayer video slideshow for next Wednesday and uploaded it to YouTube after supper, I looked for something to watch on 'Walter Presents' and discovered that the fifth series of Astrid - Murders in Paris episode one is running this week. 'Patience' series two is running at the same time. Weird competitive programming. I wonder why? Bed time already.

Recovery gratitude

A night of disturbed sleep, bladder irritated more than usual due to the meds. I wonder if it's a by product of the blood clot dispersal process? The kidneys filter from the blood substances that don't belong. Maybe the bladder is letting me know they're working. I've also been drinking more water to help the gut absorb the meds I've taken, with inevitable consequences.

I got up while 'Thought for the Day' was being broadcast and busied myself with getting ready to leave the house after breakfast to ensure I arrived at St Catherine's early to celebrate the Eucharist for the first time since the stroke. When I woke up in the night I didn't feel anxious about returning to the altar to take the service. My night time thoughts were of gratitude for being able to celebrate and give God thanks for the ministry of the congregation to me in the eighteen weeks since that moment the stroke occurred during Mass on Holy Cross Day. 

My head was clear when I woke up, though I didn't escape the mild ache and light-headed sensation that usually follows taking medication. It's a matter of slowly making the effort to keep going. I just wanted to give thanks for being held in the care, kindness and prayer of the worshipping community and its pastors. And what better way to do this than by presiding at the Eucharist. It was ike getting back on a bike or joining in a circle dance you know. The body remembers the moves and you're carried forward by the liturgy despite strange sensations which suggest an out-of-the-body experience. In reality, it's the opposite - an experience of being in the body of worshippers, the Body of Christ. 

Only four of us regulars were together. Clive, Paul, Sheila and me. I had prepared a homily to read to avoid going off piste, but didn't think to prepare intercessions, which I usually pray ad extempore. Though I remembered all the topics it's customary to pray for, when it came to praying for the Archbishop of Canterbury taking the Oath of Allegiance before the King in St Paul's Cathedral this morning, I couldn't recall her name. 

I wasn't aware of making any mistakes in conducting the service, and invoked the Trinity at the beginning and the final blessing in Welsh as other clergy do in the Parish team. Five months without standing at the altar in prayer could have triggered an emotional reaction, but it didn't. Neither joy nor relief, nor sadness at loss of commitment to a regular role in the prayer life of the Parish. But come to think of it, I'm still contributing Morning Prayer to the Parish WhatsApp thread weekly, as I did first thing today. Celebrating my return to the other side of the altar at this stage in my stroke recovery is nothing more than what it should be - meet, right, a bounden duty to give God thanks and praise.

I was bending over to clear up a mess I made after supper and a nosebleed started, which scared me, given the catastrophic outcome of the one I had due to clot dispersal meds after the stroke. Fortunately the leak was small and didn't last long, perhaps because my blood pressure is not as persistently high as it was back then. It shows how careful I must continue to be when bending down or putting myself under pressure with long spells of head work, writing or editing. It's an ominous reminder of how vulnerable I am now. 

Rather than making the slideshow for next week's prayer video this evening, I went back to reading Gabriel Garcia Marquez's novel El Amor en los Tiempos de Colera for the first time since my stroke. It's a relief to find that I've retained much of the Spanish I learned, and can read and still make sense of the text. I was using Google's dictionary app for words I didn't know back then. Some are from Latin American vocabulary as opposed to Castilian Spanish. I certainly have memory lapses, but if I take time to recall the words, especially names do return eventually. Sometimes it takes weeks. Yesterday I was wondering if one of my Swiss chaplaincy in Lausanne colleagues was still alive. Palestinian American, a decorated Vietnam War military chaplain. I couldn't get beyond his first name Samir last night, but his surname popped into my mind this morning. Samir Habiby is still alive, aged ninety. He told me once that he rescued an injured colleague, was awarded a Purple Heart, and charged with disobeying orders to hunker down during a firefight. What a larger than life character! We last met in Jerusalem when I was on terminal leave from Geneva in 2000, just after his retirement. It's strange being able to remember so much about him, and then taking half a day to remember his name.

Celebrating the Eucharist this morning was a significant occasion in stroke recovery. Not because I didn't make a mess of it, or needed help to get through after falling apart emotionally, but fulfilment in offering the sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving for God's healing grace and the fellowship of the Body of Christ in sustaining me and teaching me during this critical period of my life.

Remembering the Holocaust

Strong wind parted the cloud cover this morning, fallout from fierce storms and colossal rains coming in from the north and west bringing chaos and floods in many places. Eight hours in bed, three hours awake. I felt clear headed from relaxed deep breathing but after taking my meds I began to feel poorly, despite having eaten a banana with a cup of water. It occurred to me that I might not be drinking enough to fend off gradual dehydration during the night. 

I made the effort to drink another liter of water, and this showed me what I haven't been doing enough of recently. My head cleared, and my walk after breakfast was much more energetic than it has been of late. Given the concoction of meds I take, I now realise that I need to make the effort to drink a more to ensure the drugs are digested properly and assimilated into my bloodstream. A lesson learned. But can I change a habit that's not been doing me any good? It's not easy. My esophagus often seems slow to wake up and relax in the morning to work as God intends. I get coughing fits or muscular spasms if it's not ready for action on waking.

Today is Holocaust Memorial Day on the anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz extermination camp. Altogether six million Jewish, Roma  and other minority sub-culture people were murdered in World War two because of who they were seen to be in nazi eyes.  The 'us first' master race ideology treated others as inferior, to be subjugated, enslaved, discarded as disposable assets, a threat to world dominance. Never forget, tell this story. We need to learn from history. Liars, lies and deception can easily fool us There are times when pride, patriotic sentiment and anxiety can divert us from noticing when loyalty to high ideals is being poisoned by ill-will. Be sober, be vigilant today declares. This evil mindset, in blatant or subtle guise must never be allowed to pervert humankind again anywhere.

Chief Rabbi Murvis spoke well on 'Thought for the Day' as I was waking up. As holocaust victims and witnesses speaking from personal experience come to the end of their lives, their educational work with rising generations is entrusted to others. Murvis points out that the Hebrew word for 'remember' is more than subjective recollection, it's a call to action, a call to responsibility for passing on the story. How often the Psalmist exhorts people to remember what God has done and remind others. It fits so well with the Lord's words of blessing bread and wine at the Last Supper - 'Do this in remembrance of me.'

Clare cooked prawns with rice and veg for lunch, and then went out to meditation group. I thought I would snooze in my armchair after the meal, but I found myself reflecting on the Chief Rabbi's words instead. I walked another circuit of Llandaff Fields, and got home before sunset. Already it's light an hour earlier. When the sky isn't overcast with low cloud, the difference is noticeable, an hour later than winter solstice.

After supper I recorded and edited next Wednesday's Morning Prayer. I'm celebrating the Eucharist at St Catherine's tomorrow morning, for the first time since my stroke, so it's early to be for me tonight after a somewhat better day.