Saturday 27 March 2010

WAITING FOR GODOT

Last week attended a course, 'Neuroscience and Attachment' led by Dr Glyn Hudson-Allez and organised by The British Association of Sexual & Relationship Therapy. It was held in a pub on Blackfriars Bridge-a contemporary venue for looking at the impact of childhood trauma on adult relationships and a great view of the Thames. Though the tutor did find the repetitive nature of the busking somewhat trying.
In the evening my oldest school friend and I hobbled through Piccadily. She has a foot problem, so she lent on her stick and I lent on her, like old pals with attachment issues might.
At the Haymarket Theatre, Ian McKellan and Roger Rees, played a couple of ex-Vaudeville performers, Gogo and Didi, now tramps, discussing the meaning of life and how to pass time to relieve its boredom until Godot appears. What shone through all this angst was the meaning of their relationship-to them. As I sat by my friend dropping off into narcoleptic fits and waking at exactly the right moment to laugh at Didi and Gogo, 51 years of friendship felt like life imitating art imitating life .

Friday 26 March 2010

PAIN RELIEF FOR MEXICO

Just got back from Asda buying a few things for  'The Holiday'. The company is quite happy for you to buy as many cheap- laboured Tshirts and jeans as you can but if you want to buy more than two packets of paracetamol or ibuprofen you get stopped and asked, 'What are those for?' I hesitated in replying,
'I'm about to commit harikari with pills,' in case I was being filmed on CCTV. Instead I said, 'They're for Mexico', but that wasn't the right answer. So Rhys and I split up. I bought a month's supply of Ibuprofen at the Pharmacy and popped them in my handbag. He got stopped at the checkout with twice the allowed amount of Paracetamol, so paid for the allowance and then after a cup of coffee went back to the shelf, took another two packets of 500mg Paracetamol and went to the place where you can buy newspapers or do the lottery.
I guess it would be a bit stupid o/ding when you've just bought a lottery ticket.

Wednesday 17 March 2010

DAFYDD DEFIES MRS JENKINS

Last night was 'Script Cafe' at the Arts Centre in Pontadawe, a village nestling in the Black Mountain, between Swansea and Ystradgynlais. Giving so much geographical detail  is relevant because it's near to one of the notorious schools that Rhys worked in when he first graduated as a young art teacher. It's one of the settings used for 'The Unmade Bed,' a play I've adapted from a short story I wrote based on his experiences in the mid 1960s.  Last month and last night the play got a short reading. Dafydd, the Rhys character, has trouble at school with the headmaster, the children, in his love life and with Mrs Jenkins, his landlady. Last night Rhys, who reads the part of Dafydd had to pee into a milk bottle on stage and hide it in Mrs J's wardrobe.
 I must say his acting skills are coming on a treat. But, after listening to Kit Lambert talk about adapting Gullivers Travels for Hijinx Theatre, I'm going to have to take a razor to the narration. Sorry Rhys!

'ESSENTIALLY NORMAL'

Reassuring, isn't it? That was the verdict of the Nurse Practitioner reading my ECG. When I asked her about the 'essentially' bit she capitulated with,'Normal, then'. Very reassuring.
The GP suggested we go the whole hog and test my cholestrol. I woke up too late this morning to make the 8.10am appointment feeling grotty after too much Glenmorangie and got a rollicking off the fascist receptionist when I phoned and tried to rearrange. She accused me of going away before the next available appointment and asked me what I intended to do about it.
 I'll cancel Mexico. I don't think so.
'Yes, you should do that,' she said silently, overhearing me think. When I tried to say it didn't matter and grovelled and drooled at the mouthpiece, she responded by finding a 10.20 appointment next Wednesday. What happens if it's too high to travel? Bet she'll ring up Middle East Travel, Ruislip, who have arranged our trip and tell them how irresponsible I am, how wasters like me are not worthy to be patients of the NHS.
She'd be right.

Monday 15 March 2010

HAVE I HAD A HEART ATTACK?

'Just want to have you checked out. If you have had a heart attack then we won't be able to do your hip op for six months,' said the Anaesthetist from the hospital on the phone this morning. She'd read my notes and saw I'd mentioned a pain in my left arm. Nice to know someone has read the detail. When I went for my pre-op they got me mixed up with Rhys. It seems I've already had my right hip replaced.

MOTHERS DAY

I had another look at the Larry posts on Google. It looks like there maybe more than one Larry. I mean, why would an alive Larry Viet vet be on a war memorial  page that plays the last post? So perhaps our Larry's taken another Larry's identity as a front for enticing unsuspecting foreigners to look after his 'houseplants'. Yes, pre-trip melodrama is creeping in. How disappointing it would be if Larry was just an ordinary Larry who really did just want someone to fly 13,000miles to look after his patio garden.
I always seem to feel hollow and sad on Mothers Day. I used to think it was because I'd been a crap mother and I probably was, am, at times, but that doesn't seem to feature so highly now. Perhaps it's because I lost my own mother at the age of 20, before the commercialisation of Mother's Day? But that was over 40 years ago and we never really got on. Perhaps that's the reason-one of regret that we never got on and she died before I had the chance to have a more adult relationship with her. I don't know, but I couldn't shake off the feeling all day.  My children still persevered in spoiling me with their company and a champagne supper. Felt much better afterwards. How lucky am I?

Saturday 13 March 2010

THERAPEUTIC WILL

I was speaking to Sue about my drive to get my house in order before my hip op. She said, 'What about flying to and from Mexico? You could get hijacked or have a plane crash. Then where would you be?'
True. Well, I wouldn't have made a therapeutic will. So perhaps I'd better get cracking. A therapeutic will is what counsellors are advised to do when they go on holiday. Make sure if you die suddenly, you have nominated another counsellor to take over your clients and dispose of ex-clients' notes. In this age of litigation who would want to be complained against, taken to the cleaners and not be alive to deal with the consequences. I think I might. I hope my other will, the one that tells my family what to do with my affects and who gets what will be considered therapeutic. You hear so many stories of  wonderful caring professionals who are utterly disfunctional with their own families, don't you...?

Thursday 11 March 2010

11 March 2010. HIP OP

Woke up this morning having a bad dream. I thought a chip monk/beaver was gnawing my hip bone and joint like they were the left overs from the roast leg of lamb dinner we enjoyed when we could afford Welsh lamb. Yes, sometime ago.  The chip monk was clearly enjoying my flavour, sucking the joint, licking the bone, chewing the excess flesh off .  It wasn't entirely clear whether I had already had the new hip inserted. The consultant told me it will be a ceramic hip ball and joint because they work better in women than the titanium they favour for men. I'm imagining a a fragile porcelain cup and saucer set. Difficult to imagine a chipmonk deriving the same pleasure.
Mexico? Yes, we're still going. I decided to do a search for Larry on the internet to see if I could find out anythng more about him. I found a photo of him taken outside a hotel in Kyoto. He's dark, round and smiley, not the drawn -looking drug pusher I thought (hoped?) he might be. There was a tribute to him in 'The Red Wrap Society' and another fly- past tribute which make me wonder if he's a Vietnam Vet. I  also see a reference to a baptism in 2008, but I haven't been able to open that page yet. So far then, a possible war veteran  traveller who loves the orient and may be an Evo. Maybe the 'house plants' will only be house plants after all.

Monday 8 March 2010

IN ANTICIPATION OF HOUSE SIT MEXICO

It's three weeks before we go and over a month since I signed up to www.Mindmyhouse.com after a cursory reading of a Guardian article on house sitting in Costa Rica. Around the house I've had post- its reading, 'What's the big idea for 2010?' This seemed to fit the bill, that is before I saw a consultant about my arthritic hip. After suggesting he compare mine with Rhys' pre-op, he said,
'On a scale from mild to severe, I would say...'
He must have seen me dragging my leg up the corridor, like Chester in the 60's cowboy series 'Matt Dillon', except I hadn't been shot or had polio. I was born with a dislocated hip and in those days there weren't regular checks so at the age of nearly eighteen months an aunt noticed my Chester impersonation and brought it to the attention of my mother, who must have had other important things on her mind. Most children at that age would have been able to stand and walk. I just crawled dragging one leg behind the other. I was hospitalised at St Ormond's Children's Hospital and scolded by the ward nurse for crying when I saw my parents on the other side of the port- hole window abandoning me to her mercies. (The NHS had no child/ parent friendly policies then.) I believe it accounts for my anxious separation attachment style.
My legs were pulled apart under anasthetic into plastered splints. Once removed I was subjected for several years to my father's nightly physiotherapy while we listened to 'The Archers on BBC Radio. With scrunched up toes on my left foot I picked up hundreds of marbles one by one out of an old Dundee fruit cake tin and placed them carefully in another. Then reversed the procedure until the programme had finished.
It worked. By the age of seven I was given the all clear, but taken round the Children's Ward to see limping children in brown leather and steel calipers and reminded of how lucky I was that Aunt Queenie had noticed me in time.
'...it's severe,' Mr Jones proclaimed. 'But I must say Great Ormond Street did a great job for the time. It's amazing it's lasted this long. I think you should have a hip replacement very soon, before it collapses and gives you and me big trouble.'
I didn't like to tell him I'd already signed up for the whole of April to mind Larry's houseplants in San Miguel Allende, Mexico.
When I told my daughter she immediately took on the personality of Saffie in 'Absolutely Fabulous '
'What do you know about this...Larry'?
'Why does he want someone to come from Wales to look after his houseplants in Mexico?'
'Why can't he get someome local to do it?'
'Could house plants be a code for something else?'
'Where is San Miguel?' What is the place like?'
I couldn't answer any of these questions and hadn't even thought of asking.
'Mother!'
This was to be the big idea for 2010. That was before my hip replacement operation, provisional date 18 May. Leave for Mexico via Houston March 30. Holy Week and according to the Rough Guide, the time when the whole of Mexico is on the move. Return May 3. Lots of time for Mexican adventures looking after a retired nurse's 'house plants.'
In Mexico, it seems, you are guilty before proved innocent.