Tempting fate

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...so last night, my cold (oh, stop being such a blokey wuss, etc.) turned ugly. My temperature crept up. This I knew before reaching for the thermometer, as my inbuilt system for telling me when something is wrong kicked into action. And I mean kicked. Like a donkey. Suddenly I felt as if I was being trampled by several donkeys in fact, with twinges and belts of pain up and down my legs and all through my lower back. This is not good. Knowing when something isn't right with my health? That's good. But surely a more subtle and user friendly system could be installed? One where perhaps my index finger glows orange and flashes intermittently, or the spasm in my toes taps out a message in morse code. "What is it, little piggy? Is Tim in trouble?"

Pain is, without doubt, the most difficult facet of my disability. It's ever present, usually in the background, but often demanding attention, and lurking in the back of my mind should I ever attempt to make plans of any kind. Occasionally, when it gets really bad, I knock myself out, and that can sometimes reset the clock.

So, this morning, having rested through a combination of my normal meds, a sleeper and a decent single malt, I found myself under water, wafting at the day ahead, and still showing a slight fever. Paracetamol helped to get things back to snotty status, but I do still possess an unnaturally low voice.

Still, while I have been doing the brave soldier routine, P has been rushing hither and yon with R in tow.

 And she has much more to deal with, especially after the advance copies of a certain women's weekly magazine arrived. We did an interview for them, and they have put us front cover. Only thing is, as well as the cheesy strap line, they have photoshopped P beyond all recognition.

It wasn't the only disappointment with this particular encounter with the meeja. Despite and agreement that they would read the copy through over the phone before it went to print, some kind of holiday/voicemail/missing note scenario caused this particular aspect to be overlooked. And the end result is a quattro formaggi of a telling. It's not use of invented conversations that grates, so much as the nature of those conversations. I for one feel that our story is 'dramatic' and 'moving' enough, without having to sound like an episode of Dr. Kildare.

On other, more positive subjects, we are having another open studio event in a couple of weeks. Only trouble is, I haven't done any work yet... Still, there's nothing like a deadlineto hone the creative process. I hope.


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hi, saw you on the 'ouch' website...

have been peering at your blog over the last couple of days and really interested in the way you talk about chronic pain;

I have chronic pain in my leg due to nerve damage after an accident and was impressed to see that somebody 'real' has finally written a book about it!

I'm planning to buy the book soon and look forward to reading more of your blog :)


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