It's 2009 and another long night to look forward to !!

Well here we are a quarter of the new year already gone And once again I am questioning what my purpose in life is any more, for those that know my site and have read my previous efforts at writing some form of sensible journal will also know that I am a disabled person with Emphysema, I have not posted a blog since August of last year, the reason being I have either been in hospital or to ill to bother. But last week on one of my better days I was in the local supermarket when someone that I hadn’t seen for some considerable time came over and “Bloody hell Keith I thought you were dead” So I thought I would knock up this blog to let anyone that might be remotely interested know that I’m still around and as volatile as I ever was.

Whilst this condition severely reduces my breathing and therefore my mobility, It seems to me that my only real contribution to this life, which (if I say so myself) I think I do quite well, is an attempt to offer comfort and advice to those people who have very recently been diagnosed with some form of lung disease. Who, for what ever reason are finding it hard to come to a acceptance of a condition that has no cure, to adjust and cope with the mind games that asks “Why Me” and “I will find a cure” which is a great attitude to adopt but only to be dashed once they realise that no such cure is forthcoming.

It is usually at this point with the realisation that they are unable to do physically, what for years they had taken for granted, that the inevitable depression sets in, and many then resort to becoming a virtual recluse. Mainly due to embarrassment i.e. “I don’t want to be seen out struggling for breath”, “if I have to stop and start every few minutes is it worth it”. And therefore it’s easier to stay at home and adopt the “ I can’t do that” attitude and in doing so self impose a prison sentence within ones own home.

So where do I come in, back in 2001 I was asked along with numerous other patients if we would be interested in setting up a self help / support group for patients with serious chest diseases, of which there are very many to choose from ( not that anybody in their right mind would do so). It took a while to pull the idea together but in February 2002 an initial meeting was arranged to discuss the aims of just such a group and just what would be involved in the running of a self help / support group. Excluding medical personal there were seventeen patients present. A follow up meeting was arranged for the following month, and to cut a long story short, “3” yes THREE ONLY turned up. Of those three there only remains yours truly, but foolish as it may seem we pressed on with the club. For my sins I was asked to chair the meetings and seven years later I’m still chairman of the group (I sometimes wonder why I took that original phone call) have we progressed in that time? Well we now have a core membership of 87.
And in that time I have been involved in various committees such as our local Primary Care Trust (PCT) I have been on the local radio and in the local press. I give talks to new patients about living with a lung disease and about the group in general. I have built up a wide and friendly network of Doctors and Nurses in the field of Thoracic Medicine all of which I consider to be friends, not just my clinicians.

You may have picked up on the fact that I use the word “I” quite a lot, don’t get me wrong we have a committee who once a outing or social event as been arranged I can generally just let them get on with it, but when it comes to running a meeting, producing a monthly newsletter well that’s down to me. The newsletter I must admit I enjoy writing, but collating 4 sheets in landscape, folding and stapling and stuffing in envelopes, 87 copies is no fun at all, in fact it tends to work out at about 25 copies then rest for 20 minutes before I start on the next 25 and so on.
So you will not be surprised to know that just before Christmas on no less then four occasions various people took the time to tell me (in Hospital) what a marvellous job I do on behalf of the group. Followed by and it was nearly word for word on each occasion “If anything happened to you I think the group would finish”. Now if that is so, you may now understand why I asked at the beginning what is the purpose to my life? What the hell am I doing, what am I knocking myself out for, if all of my efforts will have been for nought.

In the SEVEN years that the group as been running, I have met many wonderful people, sadly many are no longer with us. The sad facts are that people with chronic lung disease die. And whilst we miss them the next patient to see his / her doctor might be the next one to be diagnosed with a lung disease, and therefore the support will be needed just as much in the future as it is today. Prior to Bolton being able to offer Pulmonary Rehabilitation, our membership hovered at about the 60/65 mark since Re-hab classes were launch in 2008 those numbers have increased by about 20. Bolton Respiratory Support Group offers a way of keeping in touch after the course as concluded and to meet other people with similar conditions, who can exchange views and useful ideas that work for a particular member or members, and newer members may find that it works for them also.

So the question as to be asked. Do I carry on sending out the message that having a lung disease is not all doom and gloom, as long as you work at it, follow your doctors advice, and don’t become a recluse, take moderate exercise, a little breathlessness is not necessarily a bad thing but don’t over do it.

So will I carry on? Well how am I doing so far? YES I‘ll keep banging the drum, I just hope that someone is listening.

Kipling

For many years I have been a avid poetry reader,I tend to favour the action or story telling poets such as Tennyson, Masefield, Browning and if I'm truthful even Robbie Burns but without any shadow of a doubt my favorite as to be Rudyard Kipling.

Being the son of a serving soldier in my adolescent years I found that my schooling was somewhat disrupted by constant postings abroad to sunnier climbs, which was a great way of seeing parts of the world that other boys between the ages of four and nearly fifteen could only dream about, whereas I was able to live the dream.

But even this was not enough to satisfy the pictures I could conjure up in my minds eye. Kiplings, graphic tales of India's north west frontier as in: "East is east, and west is west and never the twain shall meet, till earth and sky stand presently at God's great judgement seat". Or John Masefield's "I must go down to the sea's again,to the lonely sea and the sky, and all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by" Or to be facing the Russian cannon on the heights over Sevastopol in the Crimea in the words of Lord Alfred Tennyson and "The charge of the Light Brigade" and back to the North west frontiers with Kipling once again and "Gunga Din" The last few words are unforgettable. "Though I've belted you and flayed you, by the living God that made you, your a better man then I am Gunga Din". And even the more modern poets such as Alfred Noyes, "The Highwayman". And not forgetting the classics such as, Robbie Burns and the "Lady of Charlot", the list is endless.

For hours I would read the great poets, but the one poem that I cherish above all else, and yet again another from the pen of Rudyard Kipling "IF".

I have tried to live my life by adopting the Morals that this poem teachers, I have tried many times and many times I have failed. As a proud Yorkshireman, I have a tendency to call a shovel a shovel without trying to fancy it up for the benefit of other folks, which constantly gets me into hot water with bureaucrats and those in authority, all of which I take with a pinch of salt. But when so called friends shun you for speaking the truth then that's dirty cricket.

A few chosen passages from "IF"

IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

Yet many including myself still allude to that " If I could have my time over again" or the best one of them all "If Only". I have come to accept that this life is not a rehearsal for the next, and even if it were we would never know it. So be thankful for what you have and live your life as though this day was the last, for one never knows "For whom the bell tolls".

Now in my twilight years I can look back to those boyhood days in Hong Kong, Singapore and Africa and feel content that the road throughout life as had its ups and downs, it's stony patches and it's smooth, it's laughter and it's tears. Would I change much of my life, well certainly there are a couple of things I would change but we don't get the chance to apply the "If Only" theorem, so we might as well get on with it.

To quote the greatest crooner ever namely old blue eyes "That's Life" and I did it "My Way". Which I suppose it means that my poems have served me well " I Think".

Home is the sailor, home from the sea

Home is the sailor home from the sea.Off of the ship and hospital for me.

Well I’d love to say I enjoyed my latest cruise, but I would have to put my tongue right into my cheek if I said I did.

This blog as taken something like nine weeks to be published, the reason First Choice Holidays/ Island Cruises. Having read the blog I am sure the reader would agree that a formal complaint would not be unreasonable. But what do you think?

Don’t get me wrong there was very little wrong with the ship for the able bodied, the food, entertainment or the company we kept.

It was mainly down to the this bloody condition of mine. I wouldn’t mind but to say I took all the necessary precautions that I possibly could , and paid for the privilege.

Ninety nine times out of a hundred I follow my own instincts and I suppose the same could be said of this particular holiday. I booked on the spur of the moment, so nothing new there then!! But on this occasion I asked about taking my own oxygen. Big Mistake. The airline said I could take my own oxygen for resort use only, and could not be used on the aircraft. I would have to order and use oxygen supplied by them at a cost of £75.00 each way. I explained that for a flight of just over two hours I wouldn’t need oxygen, and I was quite happy to use the oxygen on the ship only (If Needed).

But the very fact that I had mentioned the possible need for oxygen, placated the need to fill in a twelve page questionnaire of which only about three questions related to my circumstances anyway. In addition I had to get a letter from my doctor to say that I was fit to fly and that aviation oxygen was suitable for my condition. My doctor confirmed all that was required, and threw in for good measure that on a short haul flight it was unlikely that I would need oxygen.All too no avail.

But having spoken to both the airline and cruise line I was satisfied that all was in place for a stress free holiday, i.e. I was able to take my electric buggy on board the ship, arrangements for assistance whilst boarding the plane, and transfers from the airport to the ship in Palma. So all that was required was to sit back and await the day of departure.

The 24Th March, one day prior to sailing, I receive a letter from the travel company in response to my twelve page questionnaire, notifying me that I would not be allowed to take my own oxygen, and that no oxygen would be available on the ship unless pre-booked at least two weeks prior to departure. The oxygen on board is only for emergencies.

Major Tom to ground control. I have just gone into orbit. Back on the phone, use what ever skills you acquired in your sales career I tell myself. Ever so politely I give a reference code and enquire, “Can I assume that your special needs department have not communicated the conversation I had with ......... ........ on the 27th of February with regard to my own oxygen “I’m sorry Mr Orton but I was asked to write to inform you that the oxygen was not allowed on board”.(I’m still being very polite)” I have a e-mail in my hand From ...... ...... that states quite defiantly that I can take my own oxygen, but I am not allowed to use it other then in the resort, which by the way is a ship” “ Also can I enquire as to what sort of organisation writes to a client the day before departure with the type of news you are imparting, when you received the questionnaire in very early February. All documentation that you required from me you required as urgent and was replied to by return............. “Can You Hold Mr Orton”.(Opus 53 in E flat minor) for 15 minutes.

I have spoken to my supervisor who say’s if you have documentation from ...... ...... stating you may take your oxygen then that’s fine Mr Orton. “Right what I now require from you is a e-mail to this address. Confirming our conversation and that you confirm I am able to take my oxygen on the flight along with the name of your supervisor”. “Ah but Mr Orton” Er, no ah buts’ I shall expect the e-mail within one hour, and thanks for your assistance.
Thirty minutes later my e-mail arrived, which covered all the bases.

With more paper work then I had ever travelled with before we arrive at the airport, armed for all eventualities we approach the check in desk. “Good morning Mr Orton we have reserved seating for you, and we have arranged for assistance for boarding the plane, can you manage on your buggy up to the plane then we will put it in the hold for you”? “Yes that’s ideal for me thanks”. “Just the two cases”? “Yes” and two pieces of hand luggage? “Yes” here we go I thinks, but no the luggage is loaded on the weight sensitive belt all ok there then, and there it was gone. So far so good but I was dreading going through the x-ray at passport control, and in particular the hand luggage.

Oh well as my old mum used to say “A faint heart never won a fair maiden”. So here we go then me the wife two pieces of hand luggage and an electric buggy.( AT THIS POINT I HAVE AMENDED MY ORIGINAL BLOG because I feel that it was not suitable for general release) Enough metal work to set off every alarm in the airport. In one of the bags I had, a portable nebuliser and a battery charger for the buggy. The other contained, a box of medication that would rival a pharmacy for tablets and a cosmetics bag for the wife.

So the bags go through the x-ray I go round the metal detector to receiver a pat down by a security officer, I didn’t mind one bit but I would have preferred the good looking blond lady next to the bloke that patted me down. I digress, on collecting my bags two BIG security guards have placed my bags on to one of the side tables. “Are these your bags sir” “yes” “ would you mind unpacking both bags please”. “Is it ok if the wife does it”? “ Just get them unpacked sir (with attitude)” You should have seen their faces they were as they say “A Picture” You do realise that you cannot take these aboard a aircraft sir!! “Oh yes I can I have permission in writing for me to carry on board my medical supply”. May we see your documentation ? “ I thought you might want that, were shall we start from three months ago or as recent as yesterday, have it all I have highlighted the passages relating to what you are questioning”.

These are not on headed paper sir!! No they are e-mails from First Choice Airlines and if you wish you could contact .............. .............. at customer services (special needs) to confirm there validity. “No Sir that seems to be in order, and these sir”? My medication, “and this bag sir”? “ The wife’s makeup bag” “ Did you read the declaration at check-in regarding dangerous items”? “Yes” “then we shall have to confiscate these tweezers and this liquid foundation crème” “Oh absolutely it’s nice to know you chaps are on the ball when it comes to dangerous items”. I got the feeling that they thought I was taking the p---, ME would I?

So we are on our way, all went well up to entering the aircraft, you may recall they had sat me at the front in row 2, but the plane was now loading in the centre, but thanks to a astute stewardess she managed to get me a swap into row 12, for which I was most grateful. Twenty minutes after take off I was brought my oxygen that the airline had supplied. Did I need it “No” did I use it “yes” well at cost of £75.00 each way with no refunds if it was not used, wouldn’t you have used it.

On landing in Palma no problems till I get out side to find the transfer buses to the port are double deckers with the down stairs fully taken. Having explained to the courier that I could not climb stairs they implied I could hire a taxi to get me to the port. I don’t think so say’s I producing from my ream of paper the request for a taxi to the port if the transport provided was a continental coach with many stairs or high steps. On production of this document, they very quickly arranged a people carrier which four of our fellow passengers were most grateful to benefit from.

On arrival at the ship the “Island Escape” we were allocated a disabled cabin on deck four, which was suitable for purpose and not much more. I have always had outside staterooms previously and found it very claustrophobic, although I had originally wanted an outside suite they had amended my booking to a disabled cabin due to the fact that I would not have been able to get my buggy through a standard cabin door. I have to say that I have travelled on a number of cruise lines and never experienced the type of badly thought out facilities for the disabled traveller.

Every cruise ship is required by maritime law to carry out a lifeboat drill within the first twenty four hour of embarkation. Each passenger is required to report to the muster station on the sounding of the alarm, seven short and one long blast of the ships horn. At which point all lifts are turned off, now I am on deck 4 the muster station is on deck 8, I am to wait for manual assistance for someone to I assume carry me up 4 decks which is 8 flights of stairs, considering I weigh 17st 4lbs so I reckon they would need to send a couple of burly chaps.

In addition, nowhere on any deck was there a disabled toilet, the toilets that were on the decks had a raised lip at the doorway and were therefore not accessible to a number of disabled passengers. Which means that wherever you are on the ship, you must return to your cabin to alleviate your functional requirements. Not the best situation when you need a lift as they are either full, or going up and you want down, or get to the deck either above or below your deck and then go up or down missing your deck completely. Also apart from being able to get onto the fantail of the ship, there was no way I could get out onto the promenade decks, as once again there were three inch raised lip in the door frames, which I could bounce my buggy over but then I get stuck as the buggy is to low to clear the door frame before the back wheels are able to propel me over. So there’s me sat on a see-saw and well and truly stuck. Tried it once never again, by now you will have concluded as I had this ship is not disabled friendly.

But the best was yet to come, the first port of call was Obliea in Sardinia, I enquired at reception about a suitable shore excursion, I was told that there wasn’t one that would be suitable for me to use my buggy. So I asked if I could go into town on the buggy, the answer was yes but it was about a twenty minute walk and not much to see unless you could get into the main part of the town, which they felt was doubtful. So not to worry we’ll stay on board, I’m not bothered as long as I can get to Rome. Well Mr Orton that too might pose a problem. “Why I was there in September and there was no problem, that was on the Norwegian Gem a proper ship”. We only use the double decker coaches and the drivers will not load your buggy because they are not insured. Well I am going to Rome so what do you suggest. To be fair the lady, she did say that she would look into the possibility of what she called a van, but meant a people carrier, so I left it with her to try to come up with a solution.

That evening on returning to our cabin there was a note pushed under the door. Can I contact the excursion desk in the morning as a suitable vehicle could be arranged but it might prove too expensive? The following morning I called at the desk to be told that a van would cost 400 Euros, and could you find someone to share the cost? How soon do you need to know ? by 4.00pm ships time. We had seen the couple that shared the people carrier from the airport around the ship so I enquired If they were going into Rome. Bingo same problem as us accessibility so I told them that I was considering hiring a people carrier to get there at a cost of 400 euros, sounds good to us, and my Brother and his wife were with us would there be room . You bet your life there is it as eight seats, so job sorted, I went back to the reception desk and got it booked.

We arranged to meet on the Friday morning at 8.00am the pick up time was 8.15. All present and correct so we make our way down to deck 3 to disembark, at that point the van had not arrived so we went on to the dock, I could not have been out there for more then two minutes it was windy and very cold and the wind got me. My airways immediately shut down and I was gasping for breath, I had no choice I had to get back on board how I managed to steer my buggy back on board I’ll never know but I did and for the next twenty minutes I was fighting to control my breathing, needless to say the van came and went, Joyce had given Stewart and his wife 200 euros and sent them on there way. All the time passengers were coming past me to get off the ship and although I am gasping to get my breath you can still see clearly what is going on around you, and I was getting some right funny looks I might add. Joyce was asked on two or three occasions should they send for the doctor, Joyce knows that left alone to control my breathing is the best thing to do so declined the doctor, but she also knows when I cannot get on top of my breathing and need a doctor. Put it down to years of experience, or as Hilda Baker catch phase goes “She knows you know”.

So twenty some minutes later I felt able to get back to the cabin, for the rest of the morning and a fair bit of the afternoon I slept. That evening we all met up in the lounge bar, to be told of a super day that had been had by all, made even better by the fact that the driver not only took them into Rome and gave them the grand tour, he then took them to various points of interest and waited till they had looked and taken pictures then moved on to the next site. This would have been fantastic for me, but cel-a-vie, so that was my Rome.

The next port of call was for Florence or Pisa, but unfortunately it was a non docking port so tenders were used to get people ashore so that again ruled me out, I might just have made it into a tender but sure as hell I wouldn’t be able to get out so that was another day stuck on board. The following day we docked in Nice, to a dull overcast morning so having been to Nice and Monaco on previous occasions I was not that bothered about going ashore. The following day however was Marhon in Minorca, which I knew was flat and quite a nice town well worth a visit. But once again the Gods transpired against me yet again, the Captain announced over the P.A.system that due to inclement weather the port of Marhon was closed, but we would circle the Island a few times to see if things improved, they didn’t and at about 3.00pm the ship set off to return to Palma. So apart from about two minutes on the dock for Rome I never got of the ship.

On the plus side the entertainment was first class, the food was adequate, but other then that there wasn’t a lot to shout about, as one of our fellow passengers said “ I would describe it as Butlins on Water. Now I am not a snob but I know just what they meant.

So it will come as no surprise when I tell you that I couldn’t wait to disembark and get to the airport to get home. But my troubles were not quite at an end at this stage oh no siree, you will recall the coach from the airport to the ship situation, I was assured that suitable arrangements would be made for my return to the airport on the conclusion of the cruise, I bet you cannot guess what arrangements had been made. Yep you’ve got it “not a dam thing”. So once again we went through the “ I was assured bit all over again” anyway a taxi was arranged, which duly arrived once loaded up the driver asked the courier to sign her docket for payment. The courier looked at me and said “ You’ll be paying for the taxi Mr Orton. Surprise surprise I never said a word, I worked on the principle why get agitated by arguing the ethics and responsibilities of the tour operators. Just get me home. I’ve had enough and when I’ve had enough, I have had enough.

Palma airport, bells are ringing buzzers sounding, well I’m nor surprised I’ve still got the same items in my hand luggage, so having got through the pat down bit I went to collect my bags anticipating another long drawn out explanation. To my surprise not a word was said, it was the bloke behind me that set the alarms off. So just the flight home to negotiate, then I could relax for the first time in ten days.

I do hope my cruising days are not over, as under normal circumstances every thing is at hand and you are never more then a couple of hundred yards from what ever is happening on board. So for someone with my disabilities cruising is/was a first class option.

Although I shall not be availing myself of the services of Island Cruises and First Choice Holidays in fact in my opinion they should be renamed “Last Choice Holidays” they certainly will be in the Orton household. I should add a caveat to that “The cabin crew on both outward an inward flights were first class and could not have done more to ensure my flights were comfortable”.

Then to top it all two days after my return I finish up in hospital with a chest infection and stress induced fatigue. That was a new one on me. So the lesson to be learned is Keep My Cool under all adversities, or as Doctor Banner (The incredible hulk) say’s “don’t get me mad, you wont like me if I get mad”.

Oh well here’s to the next holiday somewhere less adventurous perhaps Scotland or the Isle of Man?

Ouch that bloody hurt

It’s the 3rd of January I’m home alone and waiting for the district nurse to call to remove my stitches following a small operation just before Christmas. The Wife and Daughter are off to the Trafford Centre to catch the New Year sales, so that’s them gone till well after sundown. So until the nurse arrives and to pass the time, I think I’ll recommence writing my blog. It then suddenly occurs to me what the hell should I write about, and the mind goes a complete blank.

On the television there is a documentary about venomous snakes, and that’s it I’m off again to my early teenage years in Sierra Leone. Now on the subject of snakes I am far from a knowledgeable expert in fact quite the opposite I hate the bloody things, and the type of program I was watching although fascinating, as me on the edge of my seat. The presenters such as the lat Steve Irwin would have me jumping every time a snake that was being handled made a strike.

In my time in West Africa I had seen and encountered my fair share of both venomous and non-venomous snakes. During our time in the village of Wilberforce I reckon that at any given time I was never more then fifty yards from one type or another, directly outside the compound to the bungalow was a coastal gun emplacement which was a remnant of WWII and which looked out over Freetown and into the bay beyond. Freetown being a natural deep water harbour, naturally had to be defended. Whether they were ever used I would not know, but there was four of them at strategic point along the coast but all trained on Freetown bay.

The one outside the compound was built into the hillside, so you only saw the front and the two side walls which were tall at the front but level with the flat roof by the time it had tapered back into the hillside. The entrance was at the side furthest away from the compound, and was totally open, the roof over the years had become well overgrown with vegetation. In the evening you could stand on the veranda looking over the compound fence and hear the rustling in the undergrowth. Needless to say you stayed away after dark.

Not long after arriving in Sierra Leone dad gave me a .22 calibre rifle and what was described as a snake stick, which as far as I was concerned was a walking stick with a very large knob on the end of it. Rifle shooting lessons consisted of shooting beer cans and coke bottles off the compound fence, and if I say so myself I became a very fine marksman. To my shame however tins and bottles soon lost there appeal and I turned my attention to moving targets. I have no idea what they were but there where some very small multi coloured birds that at the very most were not more then two inches long , they would perch on the fence and I would shoot them off. That’s one thing as I look back that I am not proud of. On the other hand there were dozens of small lizards that ran up the walls and across the roof of the veranda. Now these were great sport indeed each one that was shot would shed its tail and the tail would continue to riddle for up to fifteen minutes or more in some cases.

As I became more proficient with the rifle I would at dusk throw stones over the fence and onto the roof of the gun emplacement, you would hear a rustle and sometimes a head would rear up, and bang I’d let off a shot. Whether I actually hit anything is anybody’s guess, but for sure I never went looking to find out. Daft I might have been but stupid!! Well just a bit maybe. As far as going into the blockhouse itself was concerned well that was a definite no no, if the buggers were on top of the blockhouse then they sure as hell would have been inside it.

So it follows that if I had been inflicting death and destruction on these creatures, then sooner or later the boot would be on the other foot. And as sure as God made little apples it did. We had just returned from three months leave back in the U.K. and on returning had moved to new quarters near to Wilberforce Camp. Myself and Swalee my constant companion and our houseboy were returning to the new quarters from the village and like most lads of thirteen we were larking about, pushing and shoving, when one shove sent me stumbling into a monsoon ditch.

Which are troughs down the side of the roads to allow the heavy rains to disperse; well that was the Idea, in fact what actually happens they just become a collection point for rotting vegetation. So as I go backwards my left leg slips into the ditch, and OUCH that bloody hurt, I thought I had broken my ankle or at least took a chunk out of it. But no on withdrawing my foot I find a bloody snake with its fangs in my ankle just behind the ankle bone. I now find out what that bloody big knob on my snake stick is for, as the snake tries to slither away Swalee gives it such a crack across its head as it disappears into the undergrowth, if it wasn’t dead it must have had one hell of a headache.

My leg is on fire and I am literally watching it swell up before my eyes, what the hell am I going to do I don’t want to die on a dusty road in Africa. If you have read some of my previous exploits in Sierra Leone, you will know that Swalee although only two years older then myself was in many ways wise beyond his years. Off came my sandal, out came his pocket knife and quick as you like cuts me just above the puncture marks. Then for some reason he stabs and cuts me high up on the thigh and about two inches long, then ties his vest round the top of my leg. At the time I couldn’t give a dam what he did to me I only knew it hurt like blazes. It’s only when I was able to reflect on the incident that I think that the snake bite might have killed me, but it was more likely that Swalee’s first aid would have been the more of a likely cause. When I consider that I had watched Swalee many times whittle wood, cut mangos, pineapples and anything else that needed cutting with that rusty blade. Swalee’s vest as a bandage not the most sterile dressing in the world, full of holes and sweaty.

Still here we are about two miles out of camp on a dust road with little or no prospect of transportation coming along, but I know I’ve got to get to the hospital which is also within the camp. With what little instruction I had received about snake bites I knew that you should immobilise the patient so the venom is not pumped round the body with a quickening heartbeat. But Swalee was determined to get me walking. “Kei must get to Freetown road” Swalee kept saying over and over again. To the main road was about half a mile, but it took what seemed to be ages before we made it to the main road. At last my luck was changing we had no sooner broke onto the road when a army landrover came up the road returning to camp. Fortunately it stopped which of course it wasn’t supposed to do but thank heavens it did.

Within five minutes I was in hospital. Then the fun really started, “What type of snake was it” asked the medical orderly. “Don’t know a grayish/greenish one” Say’s I. “How big was it” asks the orderly” “ About two foot long and quite a thin one” say’s I. “Is it what they call a boot lace snake because it’s only thin?” I ask. In comes the Doctor who had been sent for as he was off duty, and Dad arrived at about the same time. The doctor armed with a illustrated book of west African snakes of which there are many. Went through the very same questions all over again, and me in absolute agony. Eventually the Doctor decided it was !! and therefore Settled for the “Western Green Bush Viper” as the most likely offender, described as being eighteen to twenty inches very slender can be green or light gray, venomous but not a highly toxic venom. So the good news is your not going to die, but you are going to have a very sore leg for some weeks.

So having filled me up with anti venom injections, antibiotic injections and tetanus injections. Which hurt more then the ruddy snake bite. I was now ready to go to the ward for a couple of days observation. By now Mum had arrived at the hospital and was panicking, Dad being Dad, a typical Sergeant Major, could only say well if you will piss about these thing are bound to happen, you’ll be more bloody careful next time. “What next time dad?” says I.

So there we have it, it’s funny what one tends to think about with just the slightest little reminder of days gone bye. If that’s the doorbell it must be the nurse, more flipping pain.

As a Footnote:-
There are numerous venomous snakes throughout West Africa. To name but a few would be ( The ones in bold I have come across whilst in Sierra Leone) The Puff Adder, The Gaboon Viper, The Rhinocerous-Horned Viper, The Rhombic Night Adder, The Jameson Mamba, The Black Mamba, The West African Green Mamba, The Forest Cobra and the Black Spitting Cobra.Had my bite been inflicted by any of the above it is highly unlikely that I would be writing this account today.

Sticky Toffee and Date Pudding.

Following on from "Chewys", Tag Blog. One of the question was "Name three things you have eaten today. One of my three answers was "Sticky Toffee Pudding. Which drew a few comments like I've never heard out it but sounds yummy, or Is it as good as it sounds.

So for a number of my friends across the pond, here is the recipe. Have a go it's real easy to make and you will want a second helping. Honest.

Ingredients:-
For the pudding :-

100g Chopped dates
90ml Boiling water
1/2 tsp Vanilla extract
35g Softened butter
65g Demerara sugar
1 Egg
1 tsp Black Treacle (molasses)
75g Self raising flour
1/2 tsp Bicarbonate of soda
60 ml Milk

For the Sauce:-

25g Butter
75g Dark soft brown sugar
120ml Double Cream
1 tbsp Black treacle (molasses)

Method :-

1) In a small bowl, soak the dates and vanilla extract in boiling water for 5 minutes, then drain and mash.
2) Cream together the butter and Demerara sugar.
3) Beat the egg, and add to the butter mixture, then beat in the black treacle (molasses) 1tsp.
4) Fold in 1/3 of the flour and all of the bicarbonate of soda.
5) Add half the milk and whisk continuously whilst adding the rest of the milk and flour till all is used, then stir in the mashed dates. and mix well.
6) Spoon in the mixture into four ramekins, and bake for 20 minutes at 180 degrees Celsius.

The Sauce:-

7) Melt the butter, add the sugar and half the cream, bring to the boil and then simmer for about 5 minutes until the sugar as dissolved.
8) Stir in the black treacle 1tbsp (Tablespoon), turn the heat back up and let the mixture simmer for 2 to 3 minutes, stirring occasionally.
9) Remove from the heat and add the rest of the cream.
10) To serve, turn out the puddings, and level by cutting off the tops, turn upside down on a plate, and pour 2 tablespoons of sauce over the pudding. Serve with either Creme Fraiche or Ice Cream.

To finish off but optional:- pour on a good slug of dark Rum to really blow you away.

Go on try it, I have made this pudding for years, alas I am unable to stand at the cooker long enough nowadays. But I've taught the wife well, so it is still one of me favorite puddings.

Let me know how you get on.

Frustrating being frustrated

When I first started writing a blog a friend told me that you laid yourself wide open to everyone with a on line computer, which in this day and age must be a hell of a lot of people worldwide. So with this in mind there are no names used, other then one and my own.

So how does one become frustrated by the actions of other people, people who you tend to regard as friends and confidants. People you have known and cared for over a number of years, but when the boot is on the other foot !! Hello is anybody out there.

Six years ago, I was asked to start a self help support group for people suffering with a Lung Disease, having being diagnosed some years previously with a condition known as C.O.P.D. (Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease) knowing little or nothing about lung diseases at the time. Over the years I have acquired a reasonable amount of knowledge about the various forms illnesses that directly affect the lungs of which there are many. After numerous admissions into hospital between 1999 and 2002, I think it would be fair to say that I had become reasonably well known to a number of the medical staff at the local hospital. So much so that in November 2001 I was approached along with others, by Senior Respiratory Specialist Nursing Sister Michaela Bowden to look into the possibilities of starting a self help support group, and in April of 2002 we officially lunched the group.

At this point I should acknowledge the support and backing received from the entire Thoracic Team at the Bolton Royal. From day one to the present day, the Consultants and Specialist nurses have been truly wonderful and have supported the group in every possible way, allowing for the fact that their occupations are demanding on both their time and energies.

Not much to get frustrated at so far you may think, and you would be right, apart from the fact that everyone gets to clock off, I don’t. I get phone calls morning, noon and night from members of the group, and sometimes from people I have never heard of, but they have heard of us or more to the point ME. Asking for advice on various complaints, and some that even the doctors have not heard of. I’ve had calls threatening to commit suicide, (the last one being Sunday the 25th) because they can no longer cope with their illness. I constantly get asked for tips or suggestions of how to handle specific breathing difficulties. Whilst I am able to pass on tips that are known to work well for some people they don’t always work for everyone. So my advice is and always will be “If in doubt call your own Doctor”.

Over the last five years I have given talks to both medical groups and patient groups which have been well received. I never pull my punches when it comes down to long term prognosis, If a Doctor tells a patient that there is NO cure for Lung Disease such as Emphysema or Bronchiectasis. Why do I still get constantly asked if I know of a cure, which warrants one of two answers, if in a open seminar or general meeting I say “There is no known cure, but your illness can be managed with the use of correct medication. But don’t take my word for it ask the experts” or if it’s a telephone call, I try to always be polite but often make the point “If there was a cure, can you tell me why I’m sitting here with a oxygen pipe stuck up my nose”.

So to get to the reason I am totally frustrated at times.

I have been told on many occasions and I quote “You’re a bloody marvel the way you cope and handle your illness” Well surprise, surprise I’ll let you into a little secret. Have you heard about the beautiful and graceful swan gliding serenely across the lake, whilst below the water its feet are paddling fifty to the dozen just to stay afloat. Well I guess that’s me, all calm up front whilst paddling like hell below the surface.

A fortnight ago I was at the hospital not for my chest problems, which makes a change. But four years ago whilst in hospital one of the registrars noticed a small lump to the right side of my nose, and referred me to the E.N.T. unit (Ear, Nose and Throat) who promptly diagnosed what is known as a Rodent Ulcer, which of course prompts the question what’s that ? “Skin Cancer” Oh Sh1 t what does that mean and can it be cured ? Yes normally we would just cut it out, but with your chest we would prefer to use radiotherapy to get rid of it. So the following month I’m in Christies Hospital having my nose blasted with the appropriate treatment, and six month later they carry out a biopsy and give me the all clear.

You know what’s coming, Yes It’s back, but on my cheek just in front of my left ear ( payback time for all those years in Africa, Sun block what’s sun block) So I have to have it dug out this month ah well “Cell A Vie” The following two days were spent taking gifts to the house bound members of our group, nothing fantastic, a diary and a set of 6 hand made greeting cards and Christmas card on behalf of the group. On Thursday we had our regular meeting, I explained to the group that I might not be at the December meeting and the possible reason why. Yesterday was our Christmas Meal and outing to Oswaldtwistle Mills for some Christmas shopping therapy. When the coach arrived it was one of those very high continental coaches. One look at the nine steps to negotiate to get on told me it was a none starter, so it was back to the car to drive myself and Joyce to the venue. The meal was excellent but by 3.00pm I had had enough so we returned early after letting a couple of members know, not that it matted as we were not on the coach anyway.

So why is this voluntary position so frustrating ?

Calls to thank us for the gifts.............................To date......................................Nil.
Calls to see if I’m OK after the meeting............ To date Nil.
Calls to see if we got back yesterday OK..........To date.....................................Nil.
Call since Friday teatime for advice...................To date.....................................Four.

I don’t want praise, I certainly don’t want sympathy, a little more help in running the group would be appreciated. But I don’t think I would be out of order to expect the occasional call to ask “Are you OK old son” Or is that to much to expect ? Or is it that I’ve turned into a grumpy old man? I never used to be a whinge, honest I wasn’t.

I’ll finish with a joke for you :-
A 85 year old Great Grandmother dies and arrives a the gates of heaven to be greeted by the Angel Gabriele. “Hello love, just take a chair for a few minutes whilst I take this other lady through to meet the boss” “ Yes ok” says the 85 year old. A few minutes pass and Gabriele re-emerges. “That previous lady is just finishing off with the boss shouldn’t be too long now” says Gabriele. “Yes that’s fine I’m rather excited “ say’s the 85 year old. All of a sudden there is a almighty and prolonged scream. “What the hell was that” enquires the 85 year old. “Oh it’s OK don’t worry it’s just the previous lady having two holes in her back drilled to hang her wings on” say Gabriele. “ Oh I not to sure about that, it sounds very painful” says the 85 year old. “Oh it only hurts for a short while, but it’s worth it in the end” say’s Gabriele.
Just then there is an even louder and longer scream. “What the hell was that” asks the 85 year old. “Don’t worry yourself one little bit, it’s just that they need to drill a hole in her skull to fit the halo into” Say’s the Angel Gabriele. “Sod that for a game, I’m not having that get transferred to the other place” say’s the 85 year old. “Oh no you don’t want to go there, they will do all sorts of nasty thing to you including rape and buggering you” say’s Gabriele. “That’s no problem I’ve already got the holes for that” Says the 85 year old

I've been Tagged

Chewy, as posted a very amusing tag game, give it try.



Two names you go by (besides your given names)?

1. Knockout , as in K.O.
2. Ourkid , called by my younger brother.


Two things you are wearing right now?

1. A oxygen mask.
2. Dressing gown and Jammies


Two longest car rides ?

1. Route 66. now ain't that a kick in the head.
2. Bolton to Bucharest, Romania, 1992 mercy mission.

Two of your favorite things to do:

1. Public speaking
2. Eating out, if you had to taste my wifes cooking you'd know what I mean.

Two things you want very badly at the moment:

1. Tomorrow.
2. A new laptop.

Three animals you have or have had:

1. Princess, My Boxer but that was over 40 years ago.
2. Shelly, a Jack Russell, mad as a hatter but loyal for fourteen years.
3. Jack, a King Charles,2years old. Named by my youngest grandson.

Three thing you ate today:

1. Chicken Sandwich.
2. Steak Diane.
3. Sticky toffee pudding.

Two things you are doing tomorrow:

1. Attending a church Christmas fair.
2. Distributing gifts for my house bound members of our support group.

Two favorite holidays:

1. 1994 Motorhome trip across the U.S. on route 66.
2. The Next one ?

Two favorite beverages:

1 Whisky and soda. but not to much soda.
2. If I must Coffee.

Three people I tag :-

Mary, Get your own Name
Rachell, Pasture Musings
Lin, If the creek dont rise