Schist just got real...

Before we go any further, you know how occasionally I do a serious post about real things and they're usually all deep and meaningful and you get as far as the middle and you're about ready to slit your wrists and then there's an uphill slog to the denouement where it's all puppies and gamboling schoolkids and suchlike as a big volte-face making sure we all go home with a song in our hearts and a lovely firm hug for our nearest and dearest.

Well... This is one of those - And it's all about me. And I wasn't really sure about how to give it an uplifting ending.

If you read my last blog (or if you know me in real life)  You'll know a couple of things about me:

• I write, it's my thing - It's the second funnest thing you can do when it's just you and an Internet connected laptop and the curtains are closed. You should all give it a go, you might enjoy it (But don't be better at it than me, I shall pout and possibly kick you in the danglies... Multiple times)
• I am old, and fat, and unfit, and bald. It's a good job that I'm happily married because there is literally no other way that I would ever get to have sex otherwise without it costing me the GNP of  a reasonable sized European country. I'll be 50 in six weeks for God's sake.
• I had a TIA a couple of months ago. A 'mini' stroke and I didn't take it anywhere near as seriously as it seems that I should have done.

A couple of weeks ago, a letter landed on the mat, asking be to drop by my friendly neighbourhood outpatients department and have a quick chat with a Consultant Neurologist; which I did, last Thursday. There was nowhere in the letter to say what it was all about so I assumed that it was the stroke clinic 'signing me off' and letting me live out the rest of my life quite happily, if a little over-medicated in a 'rattle when I walk' kinda way.

It turns out that it wasn't that at all.

The nurse working with the consultant did my measurements, height, (185cms) weight (about 19st) and blood pressure (190/140 - Which I believe in the trade, they like to call a 'Hypertensive Crisis' and causes them to start shouting words like 'Stat!' and 'Crash' and similar into the light fittings) - She whistled at that one, and quickly said "That's not the worst I've seen." when I raised my eyebrows at her. I asked if she'd seen worse in anyone who was currently still alive, she went very quiet. Then I asked her if any of those people had died by actually exploding, to which her only reply was, "You're taking it very well..." When I asked if running around the room crying and yelling would help, she replied that it was probably best not to if I could manage it, all things considered.

Then she led me gently by the hand in to see the consultant, who proceeded to set about me with a hammer, allegedly to make sure I still had reflexes, but I wasn't convinced. He did all the standard 'follow my finger' stuff and asked me to put my clothes back on, whilst also reminding me that he had never actually asked me to take them off in the first place.

We did a bit of small talk about it being unseasonably hot, and he introduced me to a junior doctor who was sitting in with him - Seemingly they all want to get experience of when a sturdy looking fat bloke goes postal when he finds out his diagnosis and how best to call security without copping for a dead-arm. Then he showed me a picture the inside of my own head... It looked a tiny bit like this:

Although the actual brain sort of filled the skull as you might expect, because: clever

Consultant: See that? [pointing a my brain]
Me: Yes?
C: Not this, [circling the whole brain] But THIS, [pointing at a white cloud the size of a 2p piece]
Me: Yes...
C: That's a damaged area of your brain, the white cloudy bit is brain damage.
Me: Your actual brain damage? [Sticking my tongue firmly in my cheek and crossing my eyes]
C: Yes
Me: But just that bit right? Is that from the stroke?

He shook his head and flicked through about ten other picture 'slices' through my brain, pointing out the damage on pretty much every single picture, including one that he got quite excited about that was in my 'deep brain area' and one near the connection between the left and right hemispheres that looked like a hand-print.

I must admit to not listening very hard over the next bit of his explanation, but I heard words like 'extensive' and 'incurable' which to be honest, are not good words to hear on a Thursday afternoon, the day before you're due to go on a relaxing weekend away, if at all.  It seems that most of the damage has been caused by years of undiagnosed high blood pressure and that the only way to slow (but not stop) further damage is to lower my blood pressure both chemically and by making changes to my lifestyle.

• I asked if this is what would kill me - He shrugged
• I asked how long I have got - He said somewhere between ten minutes and 50 years, much like anyone else.
• I asked if there will be any odd effects - He shrugged, but said that there may well be, and I should come straight back if I felt anything 'suspicious' or started having headaches etc. 

I will freely admit to feeling quite frightened about this, but then I suppose you would, even if you knew there was nothing you can do about it.

And I have started to experience what I assume to be the first effect... I have started to forget words that I use quite regularly, and I feel that is immensely cruel - And you should totally let me off if you find anything nonsensical or misspelled in this post.

Anywho, talk more next month probably... It's my 20th Wedding Anniversary and I'll be expecting a fairly decent present especially if you want to roll it together with my 50th birthday the month after, if I'm not around you could just give it to the wife.

Is THIS the Playground of the Broken Heart?

Hello friends,

How've you been?

Missed me? I've missed you all... In the past eight months since I last blogged - You remember, it was about my daughter running away to live with her boyfriend like a thief in the night* Did you know that a few of the 'Agencies' that publish stuff that makes you think around the Internet picked that up and it was quite popular for a few minutes. They did the same with my piece about trigger warnings too, if your remember, which was lovely - I went all warm and fuzzy for a swift matter of moments.

So now, much as Randy Quaid's character, Russell Casse, said as he nosedived upwards... Wait, can you nosedive upwards? is it a noseclimb? Is noseclimb actually a word? From now-on "Noseclimb" shalt be the word that one Chimping Dandyist can use to identify themselves to a similarly encumbered person - Don't say I never give you buggers anything.

Anyway, Dennis Quaid, noseclimbing into the alien ship in Independence Day with a jaunty, "Hello Boys, I'm back!" - Which is what I'd like to say to you, because I sort of am. Kinda. It won't be every day by any means. More like once a month hopefully - At the moment that's the plan, maybe on a Friday or something, as I don't work Friday afternoons anymore.

Anyway, back to what I was originally going to talk about.  Obviously a lot of water has passed under my own personal bridge since last year, some ploots** of it more oily and foul smelling than others. But the three main ones that spring instantly to mind are:

1: I have finally self-published the book that I swore I would never self-publish.

Yeah, I know, can you smell the disappointment in my voice?  I had always said (And still do whisper to myself when I am locked alone in my damp writing tower and the rain is lashing against the leaded windows, the interior lit only by the dour flashes of lightning) that I would get the Windspider Chronicles published by a bricks and mortar publisher, with launch events and regional rights and a Korean language version. Etc. 

So, true to my word, on the 4th April, I pressed the button that would self-publish 'Volume 1 - Child of Air' into the feverish hands of a waiting public. You can get it on Amazon - That link is to Amazon UK, but it's available on most of the Amazon sites that serve various countries / continents. Trigger Warning: It's only in English. 

One of the few things that I did to try and convince myself that it was a real book, in much the same way that Pinocchio needed reassurance that he was a real boy, was to commission a professional cover artist to design the cover. This is what it looks like now.

By the unfairley talented David R. Shires at TheImageDesigns.Com

Looks bloody ace doesn't it? You should nip off and buy it, if you're poor, or you don't have space in your house for real books you can even buy it for The Kindle - or move house, which would be better in the long run.

2: I have become a Freemason.

Yes, the chaps who wear blindfolds and aprons and roll their trouser legs up at any available opportunity. We all ride goats and there's a mystical secret handshake, we can count on woodland creatures for help if we ever stray from the clearly signed path and go for an unscheduled trek into the undergrowth and I have a limited control over the prevailing weather conditions***

To be honest for me, being a Freemason is all about the camaraderie, the fraternity and the 'giving something back' through charity - No, really, I realise that doesn't sound like me in the slightest, but you should know that people can really change when they get old and worry about being closer to death - We try to pack some good Karma in whilst we can. Also we all get together for a slap-up feed and a few jars about once a month, which has got to be worth the price of entry alone.

As an aside, I'm happy to answer any questions that I can about general Freemasonry that you care to leave in the comments - Sometimes the answer will be, "Sorry, can't tell you that." But I promise I'll do my best to answer what I can.

3: I've had a stroke.

See, told you I was getting old. Well I say it was a stroke - It was actually a TIA, or Transient Ischaemic Attack. It lasted about fifteen minutes and I felt fine afterwards. I even drove myself to casualty (Safety tip, don't do that ever - There's a slim chance of something like an 'aftershock' happening a short time after your attack, which is something that you don't want happening whilst you're driving, you'd be putting innocent people in danger - Call an ambulance - In fact I'll go further and say that your consultant will tell you that can't drive for about a month afterwards. They're usually pretty clever, you should listen to them about things like this.)

So what happened? I was sitting at my desk at work when over the course of ten seconds, I went blind and I lost the feeling in all the diodes down my left hand side, couldn't move my arm or leg on that side of my body. I sat there in wonderment as I tried to feel my gums, which had also gone numb, and trying to talk - Which is a bit of a chore with only half a working mouth - fifteen minutes later, I was as right as rain again - All that it's really left me with is a solid gold excuse to get out of anything stressful at work, just by saying, "But I've had a stroke!" and wincing as if I have a headache and a need to take Clopidogrel tablets for the rest of my natural life.

But hey, it could have been a lot worse. The only difference between a TIA and a 'real' stroke is that the TIA's effect is transient i.e. there's no lasting damage - But I like to think that even if there had have been, I would have been able to find something funny for you guys to share about my situation.

Anyway, it's time for me to get back to the real world for a while, feel free to leave any questions, comments or naked photographs of yourself in the comments section below, and I'll get around to them as soon as I can.

Byesies!




*No, as it happens she hasn't come home as yet - She's set some particular way-points for that to even be considered, which have yet to come to pass.

**Yes, I have invented another word usage, 'Ploot' is a subset of a certain volume of water in a river, to be used when you really can'y be bothered to look and see if there is already a word for this.

***Some or all of these statements are made up - But then I would say that wouldn't I?