A Pain In The Neck

A Pain In The Neck

I wrote some time ago about having neck, shoulder and elbow problems...

 

I went to the doctor about it almost three months ago at the beginning of November.

 

Things are moving along.

 

Since the doctor’s appointment I have had an x-ray, spoken to the doctor on the phone and had a meeting with a very nice ‘triage’ woman early in December.

 

“Right, let’s have a look at your x-ray.” She said and clicked around on her computer. “Oh, it’s not here. Where did you have it taken?” she asked.

 

Apparently, although only a few miles away, the hospital was in a different district and she didn’t have access to their files.

 

We were both disappointed as it would have been quite useful to her for planning the necessary treatment.

 

Fortunately she was able to use creative imagination and a plastic skeleton to demonstrate the possible problem and propose the way forward; physiotherapy and a consultation with the orthopaedic team.

 

She told me that one would phone me and one would write to me. I can’t remember which was which.

 

So, while I am eagerly awaiting further contact, life goes on with manageable discomfort.

 

Yesterday I went to the hairdressers and was directed as usual to the dreaded backwash:

“Could you put YOUR head back for me please?”

I carefully put my head back.

She washed my hair vigorously and by the time she asked if I was “having conditioner today” my neck had had enough and I declined.

“Could you put YOUR head forward for me?”

With no small effort I put my head forward. She rubbed the back of my hair and I heard that ‘still soapy’ sound.

“Could you put YOUR head back again for me?”

I obliged and she did the necessary further rinsing.

“Could you put YOUR head forward for me?”

I creakily put it forward and she placed a towel on the edge of the sink.

“Could you put YOUR head back for me?”

I gritted my teeth; put my head back again and she rubbed it manically with a towel.

“Can you put YOUR head forward again for me.”

I was getting rather agitated by this torture but managed to heave my head forward to the upright position.

She placed another towel on the edge of the sink. I knew what was happening now. This was the finale where she loosely wraps the towel around my head before leading me to sit looking at myself in the mirror. Looking at myself and acknowledging that my head wrapped in a damp towel with a corner hanging over one eye is not my best look. Not my best look but a little better than the woman next to me with silver flaps stuck to her head and sheepishly reading a magazine.

“Could you put YOUR head back again for me?”

“Actually, no, I can’t.” I replied “I’ve got a bad neck. I can’t be putting it backwards and forwards like this all the time.” My words came out surprisingly more harshly than I had expected.

She struggled awkwardly across the backwash to ineffectually wrap the towel around my head.

“Would you come over to THIS chair for me? Would you like a coffee?”

“No thank you.” I replied as I sat down and, with my unobscured eye, regarded my grumpy little face in the mirror and wondered when I would hear from the orthopaedic team.

“The two enemies of human happiness are pain and boredom.” ~Arthur Schopenhauer~

An Eye for Music

An Eye for Music

The quest for perfect quavers…

 

Amongst the many shortcomings of my violin playing, the one that currently frustrates me the most is the seemingly increasing inability to play a long series of short and fast notes without faltering.

 

I have practiced studies for hours, but still hesitate and stumble.

 

I have tried gradually increasing the speed of the metronome.

 

I have really tried hard to look ahead without forgetting where I’m up to.

 

I have quizzed my proficient orchestra colleagues who claim to be looking a good two bars ahead.

 

I have raised my concerns with my teacher who assured me that if I move the bow at the right speed and use the correct part and amount of the bow, my fingers will keep up.

 

I have tried concentrating really hard (a novel idea).

 

But still the problem remains.

 

Then last week I realised that I had difficulty distinguishing between notes. By the time I had decided whether a note was a ‘b’ or a ‘d’ the moment had passed.

 

I phoned for an appointment with the optician.

 

“You’re on a two year call-back. Is there any reason why you want an appointment now?” asked the receptionist. “Yes, I can’t see properly.” I explained. This seemed to be a good enough reason and along I went for my appointment.

 

First was the peripheral vision test. I was instructed to focus on the little black square and click the aptly named ‘clicker’ whenever I saw groups of lines.

 

I clicked away when I saw little groups of lines. Then the black square moved around and both sides of the image shimmered with long black wavy lines.

 

“Am I supposed to click at these big lines down the sides?” I asked.

 

“Yes, that’s right. Just click whenever you see lines.”

 

“Oh, the whole thing is flashing now.” I said.

 

“Can you see lines?” She asked.

 

“Er… oh. Yes… no…. oh, everything’s gone black.”

 

“You’re not epileptic are you?” she said as she rushed round to look through the viewer “Oh, not again. This thing’s on its last legs. Would you like to come over to this one?”

 

The other testing machine was in perfect working order, as apparently is my peripheral vision.

 

The rest of the testing went without a hitch other than the horrible eye-puffing machine, not a nice experience for someone of a nervous disposition.

 

Apparently my eyesight has deteriorated and my existing glasses are no good for either close or intermediate distances.

 

I perused the frames and decided on the pair that reminded me of Gareth Malone – he knows a thing or two about music so I trust his choice of frame shape.

 

My new glasses should be ready for Saturday’s orchestra rehearsal. I’m expecting great things.

Halloween Shivers

Halloween Shivers

Halloween is almost upon us. It seems that it’s increasingly becoming an occasion geared towards children’s enjoyment – an occasion that’s dreaded by adults…

The other day I spoke to a teacher who has the unenviable task of supervising a large group of children for an overnight stay away on Halloween night.

One of the highlights is wearing fancy dress and drinking hot chocolate outside in the evening. She said that the children love it but that for her it was just cold and miserable.

Me: “What will you be going as?”

Teacher: “I’m borrowing my mother-in-law’s long silver and black dress because it’s warm.”

Me: “Just the dress, no other fancy dress type thing?”

Teacher: “No, I don’t think so, just the warm dress.”

Me: “But don’t you have to be a character? You can’t just dress up as your mother-in-law can you?”

Teacher: “I suppose I could get a witch’s hat from the supermarket.”

Me: “And what about the other teacher? What’s she going as?”

Teacher: “Oh… I think she’s going as something warm.”

It’s funny how your priorities change as you get older.

The Garden Centre

The Garden Centre

It’s always a pleasure to visit the Garden Centre; to see all of the beautiful flowers and plants of course, but also to witness how a love of nature can act as a common bond between the generations...

 

The stocks of plants at this time of year are rather depleted, with barely a few trays of cheerful winter pansies to brighten the gloom that lies ahead. I felt a little saddened at the changing of the seasons but realised that this is the natural course of things both in nature and life itself.

 

I cast my mind back to an earlier season at the Garden Centre, the raised tables overflowing with an abundance of exquisite blooms and a host of people of all generations filling their trolleys hoping to capture and nurture this beauty within their own garden havens.

 

My attention was drawn to a woman and her wheelchair-bound mother. The mother was complaining bitterly that she had been abandoned in the cactus area for too long.

 

The daughter apologised and explained that she needed plants for her garden and found it difficult to manage the trolley and the wheelchair at the same time. She then devoted her full attention to her mother and wheeled her carefully around the plant displays.

 

“Oooh! Look mother. Foxgloves, aren’t they beautiful? Would you like a foxglove for your garden?” asked the daughter.

 

“I don’t like foxgloves.” replied mother.

 

“Ah look at these mother, they’re lovely aren’t they? They would look lovely in your border. Would you like a tray of these?” asked the daughter.

 

“No, I don’t want any of those.” replied mother.

 

“Oh! Now! Look at these delphiniums! They are gorgeous aren’t they? Would you like a delphinium mother?” asked the daughter.

 

Her mother replied: “No. I don’t want a delphinium. I want you to take me home now. Can you stop off at Bargain Booze on the way and get me some gin?”

 

“Yes of course mother, if that’s what you want.” replied the daughter.

 

As summer gives way to autumn, rather than longing for the colourful blooms now fading; I look forward to the treasures to come: cosy jumpers, pomegranates, autumn leaves, bright red berries, romantic candles, toasted crumpets and... gin.