Uphill Battles

Hello dear readers!

Sometimes writing a weekly blog can be difficult. This is one of those times.

No, this is not due to any technical difficulties or the less than perfect state of my MS riddled eyes (see here). It is, in fact, due to a distinct lack of that small thing that makes it possible to put finger to keyboard in the first place... Inspiration.

The fact is that, some six weeks after leaving hospital with the above mentioned diagnosis still ringing in my ears, the silence is becoming deafening.

The staccato appointments seem to have dried up for the moment (ahead of Thursday’s appointment with the specialist), and I am left sitting and waiting for things to happen. Waiting is not something I’m, apparently, particularly good at.

By The Book

So, with your friendly neighbourhood seated person spinning his wheels at home (both metaphorically and literally) it has become important to fill that time up as best as possible. But what, oh what, is a boy to do?

Well I do have my ‘other writing’, a project that might, in the far distant future, become a book, although in order to achieve this magic of some kind may be necessary. Having the time to commit and hour a day as a minimum to this means that the word count is ticking over nicely, and I’m even reasonably confident that some of the words make sense. Having my name in print, nestling proudly on the shelves of the book shops and libraries of this world has long been a dream, a bucket list item if you will, so having the opportunity to dedicate time to it is actually something of a positive. Getting paid for it would be nice too but you can’t have everything.

So, what else?

Now That's Magic!

Well, aside from the compulsory time spent playing FIFA, the odd ten minutes catching up on Facebook (I can’t live on Facebook, unlike some people. Not mentioning any names. *Cough, Tina Rankin, cough*), and pimping this blog of low repute across social media in order to placate my over-inflated ego, I’ve been indulging in a bit of Body Magic.

Get your minds out of the gutter.

For the less depraved among you I’m referring to is the Slimming World term for, well, exercise. This is something that I have traditionally struggled a tad with. Gyms are not designed with me in mind. Treadmills, exercise bikes, and rowing machines not being particularly disabled friendly. The loss of the car has changed that considerably.

Shanks's Pony

I say loss, but the car is still there. It is currently sitting on the driveway, looking at me accusingly at it’s own imposed inactivity. No, ive just checked again and  it’s definitely still there. I just can’t drive it. Not, that is, until after I’ve seen the specialist and attended a driving assessment (coming to a DVLA facility near you 1lth September!).

This has meant that rather than hopping into the car for short journeys, a more perambulatory means of propulsion has become the norm. On top of the daily dog walks, the mile-and-a-half journey to the local supermarket has become an at least weekly walk (you know what I mean) as has the journey to Slimming World on a Thursday night.

Before you, get to congratulatory on my transformation from inaction-man to last action hero there are a couple of things to consider.

Ups & Downs

The first is that, since my less than triumphant return to slimming world, (11 pounds on in three weeks, partially thanks to a mega-dose of steroids making me want to eat anything and everything in sight, from trucks to prickly trees), I have recorded a loss of 7 pounds, quickly followed by a gain of four. Now, it’s possible, although increasingly less probable, that even after four weeks, a hundred milligrams of steroids for five days (that's 500 in total), is still playing some kind of havoc with my system. It’s also possible that the last few chunks of birthday Toblerone have something to do with it but even in that unlikely scenario, the exercise seems to be having variable effects at best.

The second is that the mile-and-half journey into the centre of Mirfield, where I live, is decidedly downhill. It takes some of the achievement out of it when for reasonably large portions of the trip one is able to simple steer and let the hill do the work. Apparently this works for my wife, Tina, as holding me back is quite energy sapping (yeah, back to back losses for her. Grrr) Of course the trip back up is just a little different.

Admittedly I’ve only attempted this twice in the last two weeks partly because bags of shopping would make this unlikely to be a successful venture, but mainly because it nearly kills me.

Going Backwards

To add a little context to that rather melodramatic statement, the hill in question is sufficiently steep that turning round and going up some sections backwards is pretty much the only option other than hopping on a passing bus (which unfortunately don’t always pass all that often), or passing out.

The second attempt went a lot better than the first and this gives me hope that the third will go even better. Hopefully I can extend my record of not running anyone over in my reverse race uphill and people will soon get used to the admittedly comedic sight of my sometimes backwards progression.

With a little luck Thursday’s appointment will not result in me being put on yet more medication that will pile on the pounds, and a healthy diet coupled with some more trundles will see me start to rake up the losses in time for Xmas (when it will invariably pile back on).

At least in the meantime it’s filling the days.

Until next time...