In Which I Plod On

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I have a new found respect for my tongue these days.

No it’s okay the entry isn’t about to drop into the gutter – it’s just that after reading the journalist John Diamond’s book about having oral cancer ‘C – Because Cowards Get Cancer Too’, I had no idea how many important functions the tongue is performing on a daily basis and how, without one, life becomes so very much more miserable.

Initially he only had part of his tongue cut out when the cancer was found at the back but eventually, when it reappeared, he had to have the rest out and apart from obviously being unable to speak, he was then unable to swallow, eat, taste, drink properly and on one horrific occasion, breathe.  I was just totally unaware that your tongue actually assisted in the progress of food going down your throat and that without it, food just sits there and goes nowhere.

What misery!  I’m not sure I could live like that but of course that’s easy to say when not faced with the decision – presumably your instinct would be to live no matter what the cost although Jennifer Worth (who wrote ‘Call The Midwife’) has written an excellent book ‘In The Midst Of Life’ about the process of death and various folk who have had their lives prolonged but not necessarily had a better quality of life as a result.  She herself developed cancer and made the decision not to have treatment, preferring instead to enjoy what time she had left with her family.

Difficult difficult decisions.  I don’t suppose any of us knows what we would do until faced with the crisis.

I find it fascinating how the brain makes associations between place and situations and just keeps on repeating them endlessly.

Every month I go to the bank to top up the petty cash for work and put the cheque in an A5 manila envelope so that I can put the notes and cash into it which I then fold over and put in my handbag so that it’s bulky enough for me to remember to take it out when I get to work.

And every time I do it, it reminds me of Janet Leigh in ‘Psycho’ when she stole the client’s money because she also had it in a manila envelope which she folded over and put in her bag.  I never think of it at any other time – it has to have the ingredients of the bank, the folded envelope and my handbag (even though Marion Crane didn’t actually get to the bank but made off with the money instead) then going back to the car.  There’s no danger of me taking off with our petty cash though because it only ever reaches the not-so-dizzy heights of £100 and I wouldn’t get far with that these days.

I developed a bad habit of having a couple of Crunchies in the evening while I was on the computer.  It didn’t seem to affect my ability to get off to sleep although made me thirsty right enough and I looked on it as my ‘treat’ at the end of the day but obviously it wasn’t doing me or my teeth any good so I tried to have various other things instead one of which was yoghurt raisins.  I discovered I really liked them and the night that happened I was on Open Diary reading Bullwinkle6’s diary.  I had poured a few packets of the raisins into a dish and was reading it as I was doing that then realised ooo I like these so decided that would be my new treat.  Now if I take the packets upstairs and pour them into the dish beside the computer I immediately think of Bullwinkle6’s diary which I haven’t even read for months because she hasn’t updated for a while – I don’t even have to be on OD or anything.  I can even picture the actual entry I was reading at the time – instantly.  If I pour the raisins into the dish downstairs in the kitchen then take them upstairs – nothing.

Are you bored to tears yet?  I just find that stuff fascinating.  Suppose it illustrates that to break a habit you also have to break the associations around that habit as well as the habit itself.

My taper plods on in lumbering tortoise fashion – slow and steady wins the race as they say.  I hope so anyway.

I’ve also been finally diagnosed with Dysthymia – a fairly continuous low mood which persists for at least 2 years and doesn’t respond to the general ups and downs of life.  So for instance something nice happening won’t alleviate it and a crisis won’t make it worse.  It’s very often never treated because sufferers think it’s part of their personality and they’re just basically more negative thinking in general than other people – the average time for getting treatment is usually around a shocking 20 years.  A lot of folk who have it develop addictions because they will try and self medicate to lift the mood and feel better or just to feel ‘normal’ thereby causing even more problems.

The anti-depressant which the doctor mentioned to me – sertraline – has had varying success in treating dysthymia, OCD and opiate addiction apparently so appeared tailor made for me.  The doctor suggested it at the beginning of May but I wasn’t keen because my history of anti-depressant side effects hasn’t been wonderful – however I also wasn’t keen to carry on feeling the way I did so decided to give it a go at the end of that month.

I don’t think the medical profession realise how debilitating it is to feel like crap then be given something which makes you feel much crappier for at least another month before anything will change and even then there’s no guarantee things will get better.  The Internet is full of forum posts from folk unable to tolerate endless days of horrible side effects and who give up almost before they get started for that very reason.

Anyway I’m now into Week 3 and feeling rotten but I know it takes around 6 weeks in general for things to change so will persevere.  When I write anything I generally write in longhand then every so often I’ll type up the pages which means I’m often typing about stuff which has happened a few days before.  This I’ve found quite useful because when I’m having a bad day I could be typing up an entry about having a good day which makes me realise that good days actually exist (because on bad days they slip very easily from the memory).  So I try and write every day about how I’m feeling hoping I’ll start to see more good days than bad eventually.  Sleep is still very much disturbed (waking up a lot during the night and not drifting back off again) – a common side effect – and although they’re not supposed to have a sedative effect there are days when I feel very much in a horrible lethargic haze – that sort of feeling you get when the weather is humid, hot and muggy, your brain feels in a complete fog and you have no motivation or energy to do anything.

I go back to the doc on the 11th July to get the dose doubled which will no doubt produce another month of misery but it’ll be worth it if it helps in the long run.

Doing some research I was amazed to learn that only 10% of serotonin, the rogue component often lacking in folk with depression, appears in the brain, the other 90% living in the gut, controlling what’s going on in your intestines.  However that 10% still controls appetite, mood and sleep, all very important for a healthy lifestyle and a natural feeling of wellbeing.  And that makes sense – if enough serotonin is needed for all that to work efficiently then a lack of it will cause things to go haywire in these areas presumably.

Now a question for all your nature buffs out there of which I know there are many.

What are the wee white flowers in the middle of this photo of buttercups?  (sorry – should have done more of a close up).

They look exactly like white buttercups but I’ve never seen such a thing before and where those buttercups are is one long field which I often frequent with Trooper, it being at the back of the house.  No other white flowers such as these appear in the whole field.

Do you get white buttercups?

Have they wondered in from the wrong end of town and are hoping no-one will notice?

Are they the James Deans of Buttercups?

Maybe they hate butter with a passion and simply refused to be tarred with the same brush as their contemporaries?

Who knows?

Whatever the answer, they certainly filled a boring 20 minute dog walk for me as I scoured the whole field trying to find more, a confused dog at my heels wondering what the hell I was looking at!