Tuesday 26 August 2014

SHINGLES - Day 12

On reading my shingles poem, my old friend- she Estragon to my Vladimir- suggested I might start up 'shingles nights' with 'speed grating.' She got it.
     I've been very fortunate, am rarely ill, and never get flu. I did have a hip replacement three years ago and that has given me a new lease of life, becoming more physically active, and no longer carrying pain. However, having shingles,a minor condition, has made me wonder how I'll cope when I do get a serious condition. We all do eventually get one, even if it's sudden death. That for me being much preferable to a long lingering illness in pain. Most of my friends over the age of 60 have already started having 'a condition.' It may be a dodgy hip or knee, cancer, heart problems, broken bones, depression, anxiety, permanent coughs, dementia, loss, grief, all linked with pain in some way or other.
     It's always been my motto to try to live today as if it is my last. Well, at least try and make the most of life's opportunities and relationships, anyway. The challenge for me now is the unfolding realization that old age = conditions. But, 'condition' has a range of meanings.  Perhaps, the more important word is the one that qualifies it.
      What my present condition has provoked is a huge internet shopping spree. I've been trying to avoid Amazon, because of their growing reputation for worker exploitation and tax avoidance, but finding it very hard to do so, because it is so easy to order with just one click.
      I've bought pans for jam making, a skill I've had a lifelong aversion to, like the W.I. My feminist condition influenced me to the point of prejudice.  It wasn't the jam-making exactly, it was what it represented. It was a stupid aversion as I love home-made jam and the Women's Institute nowadays isn't all jam and Jerusalem. The organisation is an active campaigner on environmental and social justice issues. My husband is out now picking blackberries. Because of course-I can't- not in my condition.
      I've ordered shoes that cost more than an hour's  couple-counselling work and two pairs, just in case. A hat for my daughter's wedding, a man's wedding suit and 60's tie, a cushion for my son for Christmas, new underwear, coach cards, and registration fees for websites offering house minds abroad. Having shingles is proving to be a very expensive condition.
      Shingles has also sent me into the realms of fantasy condition-scouring Trusted Housesitters,  Mindmyhouse, Travelzoo websites for free winter holiday homes, retreats, exotic holidays, city breaks, adventures without pets, considering having pets, and I'm no pet lover.
      I also have a 'thirst-for-a course' condition. I've considered intensive German courses in Berlin,  learning Italian in Sicily, art history in Bologna, circle dancing in Greece.
      Then there's the writing condition. That seems to have speeded-up as I rewrite a poem for said daughter's wedding, a poem for said son's 30th, edit and type my husband's father of the bride speech, and of course write a poem about my condition.
       'Keeping family & friends abreast of my condition,' condition. That's taking up a lot of time because they all seem genuinely concerned about me. This is an extremely joyful condition.
       Well, it would seem that all -in- all shingles has been a productive, positive, if somewhat expensive condition. Pity about the pain.
     
     

Sunday 24 August 2014

SHINGLES


I had to cut short my holidays in Switzerland because I've got Shingles, a virus that lies dormant in the body of someone who's had chickenpox. and can be triggered by stress. Apparently it's very common among people over the age of 60. Below is the first draft a poem about the experience.


A wave of infection floods
neural pathways along my western front,
up-sweeping along its blad beaches
creating a tidal line of porridge pebbles,
iridescent, erubescent.
Eight thousand mils of aciclovir and co-codamol a day
spill me into a sleep of centuries
but no sleeping beauty,me-more
a hibernating selkie.
The ugly beast awakes, itchy, raw,
rummaging for fishy food,
half-full bottle of shiraz
from my bedroom shore
and, eurax
to rub gently on to wounds of scabbing sand.

Janet Daniel
24 August 2014.