in the swim

It's an experiment that might fall flat on its face or lay me flat, but so far so (tentatively) good. I swam four times last week, no ill effects and possibly some good ones. Muscle pains/fatigue are there, no worse than usual though, painkillers as per, when needed. I am being very careful indeed, bringing movement in, listening to what happens. I begin by swimming a little. The muscles become resistant and painful very quickly, but I have made an interesting, and possibly significant (for me), discovery. If I spend time sitting in the jacuzzi, which is very warm (and I only like it gentle, no energetic frothing), I can then go back and swim some more and the muscles feel lightened, cleared of the resistance. After the second swim I go back into warmth under the shower. The activity is about all I can substantially manage in the day, and I so there is constant danger of overdoing.

It occurs to me that I might be doing a version of the dreaded Graded Exercises. But what I am doing is particular to me at this moment in time, comes out of my own inner promptings rather than a prescription. It is not a "method" I would urge or advise for another PWME and I can only do it because I am relatively free of other commitments. And it's risky. I'll keep you informed.

Life goes on apace, though, it really does, it is still horribly cold but we are going into spring and sometimes I feel moved to ask everything to slow down - the seasons, the passage of time, how seeds fall, take root, things come to fruition - because I can't keep up. Like the poor frog prince who chased after the princess once he had restored her golden ball, and she cheated him by running off. Come back, he said, I can't run as fast as you. Come back with my life, your promise to me, turn me into what I was before this - a properly functioning human being. Well perhaps not like the frog prince, but this is extempore, on the hoof, it's a blog post dammit, and I am soon off to the Smoke, not even dressed yet, but there was something else I wanted to bang on about, because of a recent conversation with a friend:

Other People - doncha hate 'em? You know what I'm talking about: Les Autres. Of course I don't mean Us, dear reader, how could I? We are we, and Les Autres are the Others. You know, the ones that get in the way and bug us, lay their infernal acting-out-of-unconscious-unresolved-issues trips on us, or are just annoying and get in the way. How dare they. The bloke who fixes my car, for example, does the service, MOT etc. He suffers from a chronic anger condition which means that whatever the situation, anyone who deals with him is going to be given the 'you are a really bad person' message. I took the car to him the other day because it doesn't seem to be accelerating as it should. He took this as a complaint about his services, me saying that he hadn't done his job properly at the last service. Didn't matter what I said, the blood rushed to his face (it always does), he pressed his lips together, became defensive, looked mutant. When are you going to learn, says Mr. Signs, that trying to appease someone with anger issues never works because they want a reason to be angry and you're just spoiling it for them.


And then there are the annoying OPs, the ones that gather in gaggling groups (in nice, quiet swimming pools, for example, when I said I was the only riff raff I was wrong) and talk - shout - about their sex lives, depilatory creams, who ratted on who, they are like OPs who talk loudly into mobile phones on trains, no idea that anyone else might be around having their psychic space violated. And don't get me started on OPs who come storming into the scene with expectations and demands, those with a sense of entitlement who feel that the world (and you in particular) should make up for something or other in their lives that has nothing to do with you - no. Well that will do, for the moment. Said my piece. But watch this space.

I'm off to stay with my lovely daughter and her boyfriend, looking forward to the vegetarian meal she is cooking for me, tomorrow being mother's day.