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Lung physio…

No, it is not what you think. No one is thumping my back with cupped hands to loosen phlegm. I wish someone was.

I acquired a contraption that is like a whistle but much bigger. I blow into it and a ball lifts and vibrates. It is the vibration that I inhale that loosens phlegm. The only problem is that I am unable to cough it away.

The thing is though, my breathing has improved. At the same time though, I have started drinking ginger, turmeric, honey, and lemon as a tea. I feel this helps too. They are all decogestants. I didn’t think to start them at different times as I’m a bear of little brain. I’m just happy that my breathing is improved.

Tomorrow, I have a zoom meeting with my boss to be at SWASFT. Another phoned me earlier today to reassure me that messages with links to other articles are the products of the unintelligent. He didn’t say it quite that way though…

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A malicious person…

I write here to document my journey with my health, and I also share my published poetry and articles. I share my successes and my not so great days.

My boss at SWASFT has let me know that someone left a message that tried to sabotage me. Why am I not surprised? I know that there are very sad people out there who read this blog. I know that malice comes very naturally to them. I know who they are. And they are boring and futile.

I must be doing something right with my life to get such opposition.

I wish the boring man had never crashed into my bedroom. I would have continued to not notice him and would not be subjected to such harassment. What empty lives.

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Some Points Of View

To some, gun control is
a firm grip and a steady hand.
A mind made up with resolution.
A good aim, or a clean sweep.

For some life is in a besieged city.
Talking on Skype to neighbours and
friends far away. They joke as bombs
fall. They will move the dead later.

For one percent of the world population
Money is no object, hunger never a thought.
Their only fear is death, tax no problem,
And should they buy another mansion?

Published 2016 by Dissident Voice

FacebookTwitterRedditEmailChrissie is much traveled and has lived and worked in several countries. She gained her degrees in Psychology at USC and worked with recovering addicts in the LA area for four years She now lives on the South Coast of England where she writes. Chrissie has been published by Ariel Chart, Bournemouth Borough Council, Plum Tree Books, Mad Swirl, Anti Heroin Chic, Dead Snakes, and other publishers of poetry. Her articles appear in Novel Masters, Democracy Now, Sudden Denouement and other newspapers. Read other articles by Chrissie.

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Another string to my bow…

Last week I became a governor for the ambulance service in my area. I feel very honoured and privileged. I have such admiration for paramedics, but I have a feeling I’ll be communicating with lots of management. That is my experience the last time I worked for the NHS.

We have a health service here which is second to none, but the Government keeps messing with it and adding more managers.

I’ve helped my daughter sort a few things. I no longer have a ‘bubble’ to be in my home. But I do have a support bubble.

It seems a bit odd. But as my daughter moved away, it’s how things are.

I have my phone friends and my cleaner. And the delivery people are lovely.

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Black Lives Matter…

I am pleased to quote the poem TheHill We Climb by Amanda Gorman

When the day comes we ask ourselves,
where can we find light in this never-ending shade?
The loss we carry,a sea we must wade
We’ve braved the belly of the beast
We’ve learned that quiet isn’t always peace
And the norms and notions of what just is
Isn’t always just-ice
And yet the dawn is ours before we knew i
tSomehow we do it
Somehow we’ve weathered and witnessed
a nation that isn’t brokenbut simply unfinished
We the successors of a country and a time
Where a skinny Black girl
descended from slaves and raised by a single mother
can dream of becoming presidentonly to find herself reciting for one
And yes we are far from polished
far from pristine
but that doesn’t mean we are
striving to form a union that is perfect
We are striving to forge a union with purpose
To compose a country committed to all cultures,
colors, characters and conditions of man
And so we lift our gazes not to what stands between us
but what stands before us
We close the divide because we know,
to put our future first,we must first put our differences aside
We lay down our armsso we can reach out our armsto one another
We seek harm to none and harmony for all
Let the globe, if nothing else, say this is true:
That even as we grieved, we grew
That even as we hurt, we hoped
That even as we tired, we tried
That we’ll forever be tied together, victorious
Not because we will never again know defeat
but because we will never again sow division
Scripture tells us to envision
that everyone shall sit under their own vine and fig tree
And no one shall make them afraid
If we’re to live up to our own time
Then victory won’t lie in the blade
But in all the bridges we’ve made
That is the promise to glade
The hill we climb
If only we dare
It’s because being American is more than a pride we inherit,it’s the past we step into
and how we repair it
We’ve seen a force that would shatter our nation
rather than share it
Would destroy our country if it meant delaying democracy
And this effort very nearly succeeded
But while democracy can be periodically delayed
it can never be permanently defeated
In this truth in this faith we trust
For while we have our eyes on the future
history has its eyes on us
This is the era of just redemption
We feared at its inception
We did not feel prepared to be the heirs
of such a terrifying hourbut within it we
found the powerto author a new chapter
To offer hope and laughter to ourselves
So while once we asked,how could we possibly prevail over catastrophe?
Now we assert
How could catastrophe possibly prevail over us?
We will not march back to what was
but move to what shall be
A country that is bruised but whole,benevolent but bold,fierce and free
We will not be turned aroundor interrupted by intimidation
because we know our inaction and inertia
will be the inheritance of the next generation
Our blunders become their burdens
But one thing is certain:
If we merge mercy with might,and might with right,then love becomes our legacy
and change our children’s birthright
So let us leave behind a country
better than the one we were left with
Every breath from my bronze-pounded chest,
we will raise this wounded world into a wondrous one
We will rise from the gold-limbed hills of the west
we will rise from the windswept northeast
where our forefathers first realized revolution
We will rise from the lake-rimmed cities of the midwestern states,~
we will rise from the sunbaked south
We will rebuild, reconcile and recoverand every known nook of our nation and
every corner called our country,our people diverse and
beautiful will emerge,battered and beautiful
When day comes we step out of the shade,aflame and unafraid
The new dawn blooms as we free it
For there is always light,if only we’re brave enough to see it
If only we’re brave enough to be it

read at the inauguration of President Joe R Biden 20 01 21

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Please click ‘like’ when you read…

I have no idea to whom this photo should be attributed. It came in an email.

I have been enjoying my coffee even more now, as I have been grinding the coffee myself.. No more coffee grounds that have lost lots of flavour.

It’s something my Dad did. Milling the coffee beans, and making filter coffee. Weekend mornings. I don’t know what my mother was doing. I never sought out her company. I sought out my Dad, and the comfortable silence we shared.

I don’t want my Dad to be forgotten when I die. My daughter will remember him, but she’s quite different to me. Though when I was her age I did not have nostalgia, except for Germany. I still pine for Germany.

The terrible tension is my leg has abated, though I can still sense the nerve path it followed. I had a rough 48 hours, with sleep at very strange times. But I am here.

On Friday I spent an hour and forty minutes on the phone, trying to sort something out. I don’t recommend this. Especially when the music while you’re put on hold has a fast beat. Your stress levels go up as your heart beats faster…

I have yet more plants. I have nowhere to put them. And two cyclamen are missing. I can’t find where my daughter put them.

Everyone is fretting about when they’ll get their vaccine. They worry they will be missed. I, and some others, are not worried. We won’t get missed out.

I have snowdrops. I look forward to my daffodils. But snowdrops are so delicate and understated.

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A bit trepid…

Since my leg spasmed, I have felt a slight trepidation about my future. It’s not fear, more of a vulnerability.

My doctor has precribed more of the medicine that controls my neurological disease, so I feel much more in charge of my life.

Since I wrote about my auditory hallicinations I haven’t had any. Isn’t that strange?

Two neighbours walked by as I was looking out of an upstairs window. I didn’t recognise them at first as they were all togged up for the weather. Then I recognised their dogs. They didn’t even wave. We have socialised. Some people are very strange.

Someone has dumped a bed frame outside my gates. We call it fly tipping and it’s a crime. I have reported it but have no idea who did it. It’s hard to get assistance with such things during lockdown but leavingit where it where they did is appalling.

I have become a governor for the ambulance service in my area. I feel very privileged. I admire paramedics tremendously. I won’t get paid or anything.

I went out yesterday. It was crisply cold and a bit of sun showing. There are snow drops out which boosts my looking forward to spring. The daylight lengthens.

I’m so grateful for everything in the last paragraph. I feel joy in seeing snowdrops and feeling the crisp cold.

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Along this odyssey…

SinceI last posted, I realise I am more shaken by the fraudster who tried to access my bank account than I thought. It’s a feeling of not being able to trust in the services we need because there are people who want to do harm and have the know-how to make attacks online. Thank God that my bank is very secure and act instantly.

Overthe last few weeks, I’ve been hearing my dog breathing. My dog who died. I’m not going insane, I’ve had auditory hallucinations before. Almost always it was a knocking at my front door.

I started hearing the breathing about three weeks ago. It was early morning, and I had awakened. It seemed normal to hear it and I drifted back to sleep. It was later that I remembered and wondered about it. I heard it again some days later, and now it seems like a usual occurance. Then I began to hear other sounds; my daughter walking on the landing. Last night I lay down to sleep and it seemed that there were several people in my home. I flinched as I heard someone walk in my room.

Now this has happened before in reality. And, of course, I have been married, and shared my home. This was not a memory. My whole body jolted with the alarm.

I am a synesthete. This means I experience colours as a taste, sounds as taste or colours. I am wondering if there is a connection with this. I know I am still grieving strongly for O’Driscoll. This is why I hear him breathing.

In the last few days I have noticed how frequently I find myself ready to write but have completely forgotten what I intended to write about. I go to the browser on my phone and have forgotten what I want to find.

I am also missing my daughter so much. It is fused with the grief of no longer being a needed, hands on mother. I am still a mother but to an accomplished, talented, wonderful young woman. I remember how I felt grief when she stopped breast feeding at one year old. I missed that deep connection, even though her physical closeness was not much altered.

I have found myself in another room, but I am not. I am at my desk as always.

I know that I become sleep deprived quite easily. And I am currently not sleeping well. I take sleep when it comes, or I might go for days without. I know how easily the mind is tricked by lack of sleep. There is my medicine as well. And now I have painkillers on board too. I feel pain in my shoulder often at night.

I see time as an arc. I see the year as a circle. I read words that are angry and in my mind is that person leaning out of the page toward me.

I experience the morning differently than later in the day. And time moves fastest in the evening. I long to sleep but it does not come so I write and research, I read and eat.

I need to write all this because this is a blog about my journey toward death. It does not come. I want to be honest.

I miss my sister so much. I long for my Dad’s company. I still cry about O’Driscoll.

Sometimes in the last week, I have wondered if I have a brain tumour. I wonder also whether the place in my brain where they operated is deteriorating. I have brain damage. How can they operate in a brain and not damage it?

The daybreak is here. The birds are quiet this morning.

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I am getting over it and challenging my council…

The fraudulent activity has shaken mea lot. That person needed to know five separate facts about me. Some of them quite obscure.

I don’t think any of my friends know all of those five. I have felt very vulnerable since Friday.

Last week I put a question to my Council about sewage and nitrates going into the local harbour. It turns out that they are supporting a bill which will deal with this. (A chance to make polluting natural waters.)

I’ve had to block several messages since then.

I’m not sleeping. I go through phases like this but this one is bad. I end up in a deep sleep during the morning. I’m going to phone my doctor.

I am beginning to find lockdown hard with my daughter in Oxford. The grey weather doesn’t help. I’m so grateful that the afternoons are longer now. Each day is longer by two minutes.

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I had a shock…

It continues to be cold here. It got slightly milder but temps have plunged again.

Today, I received a call on my mobile phone saing someone had tried to use my banking app four hundred miles away.

It was an unidentified number which should have aroused suspicion. The call was cut off by a WhatsApp coming in. They did not call back.

Then my bank phoned on my landline, and I realised the first call was a scammer. It is really unnerving and upsetting. I got the mobile banking app because a certain person was fraudulently making purchases with my identity.

As you can tell, I am playing around with blog themes. I don’t know why.

I am still recooperating. This helps me cope with my breathlessness. It is still good, but I forget and do too much.

And wow, what a number Trump did. He needs to be taken down, but I think Pence is too scared.

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Happy New Year, I’m breathless…

It is bitterly cold here. On New Year’s morning it was -5C. That is very cold for where I live. It is common to get -1, but -5 is unusual now.

It is beautiful though, with the hoare frost on leaves, twigs and branches. On grass, it almost looks like snow. The harbour is absolutely still.

I have been getting breathless after walking around. It bothers me a lot, but I just keep going. I really don’t want to be unwell again.

Nothing exciting is happening as we are now in a lockdown. The local hospital is low on blood so I put a request for donations out.

I now will only be able to see people in my ‘bubble’ as we call it. My daughter can visit as Oxford is in the same restriction as here.

Stay safe.