In the bleak midwinter

I hope you all had a lovely Christmas!

I have had a relatively quiet Christmas at home. My Dad kindly came to us to save both travelling and re-housing Dovakhitty for the holidays, and despite being low on spoons in the cold I managed to cook Christmas dinner predominantly by myself - and made Yorkshire puddings for the first time only to get them nigh on perfect.

Yes, I know. 24 and from Yorkshire, and that's the first time I've made them. You'd think they'd have thrown me over the border into Lancashire by now really.

Mostly I combatted being tired by doing everything in small stages and setting up as much as possible in advance so all I had to do at each time interval was put something already prepped into the oven. Never has a pseudo production line been so chaotic, but somehow it all worked and we can call my first Christmas dinner under my own steam pretty successful. I still wanted to fall asleep when I sat down to eat, but I'm one of those people who doesn't like sharing the kitchen space when I'm cooking - approach me whilst I'm armed with kitchen utensils at your very real peril!

We were essentially very British for the rest of the day - we drank lots of tea, watched Doctor Who (the less said about that the better) and sat up until very late by my standards setting the world to rights, all the while fending off our resident four legged mischief maker who had smelled the turkey and was determined to relieve us of it at all costs. I have definitely had too much tea and I am receiving just payment with my first IC flare up in a fair few months, but every now and again a little indulgence is good for the soul.

Boxing Day saw the traditional and much spoken of "bracing walk". My Dad hasn't actually seen much of York so we took him round the university campus which is an RSPB designated reserve. Having spent much of my childhood teaching me to identify all sorts of birds whilst we walked our German Shepherd in the nearby woodland every day, this was right up his street. We attempted to take a route along the river, only to find it had burst its banks in the recent storms. Welcome to York, Dad. 

(My very warm winter hat, which I certainly did not buy with the resemblance to Fievel's hat from An American Tail in mind. Don't be silly.) 

Working our way home via Museum Gardens and the famous Minster I started to suffer the sort of aching, stiffness and all over nauseating weakness my fellow Fibromyalgia sufferers will be familiar with. The thing I still haven't gotten quite used to yet is that because I walk at a decent pace and wrap up I don't feel cold - but that doesn't stop it being below freezing and Petunia taking note.

You see, when I moved up to York I failed to consider something fairly consequential in terms of my weather sensitive immune system, and that was the nature of the area in terms of weather tendencies. Native of Sheffield which benefits from the protective barrier of the Pennine hills, it's something of a logical fallacy that I moved further north to the very bottom of the Vale of York - as it turns out, a notorious cold spot. If there was a prize for accidental poor judgement, I'd be sweeping the board. 

So tonight I have done very little except watch the new Nightwish DVD (serious girlfriend points accrued by me in the present buying department!) and have a long soak complete with my body temperature's version of what my driving instructor used to call "kangaroo petrol". I'm back at work tomorrow so I think I will need something of a quiet weekend to recover, but it's been nice to have my small cookery triumph and to get outside in our beautiful city, even if it was very cold and as far as I can tell has wreaked some havoc on my joints and left me to quietly sit out the weakness in my legs.  

All things considered though I'm not upset with the inevitable bodily reaction. I've had a lovely couple of days and it was really lovely to have my Dad with us. In spite of everything there has been much laughter and good cheer, and that's what Christmas is really all about. We've just managed to get in touch over Skype with Alex's family in Australia before bed too, which was an added treat.

Also, I'm sure some readers will agree that there is something to be laughed at when your Fibromyalgia-riddled hands and wrists make it even more tricky than normal to unwrap presents. If anyone had witnessed my Mum's wrapping skills, they would understand the "more than normal" reference. Having witnessed it on several occasions, I remain pretty convinced she wraps presents with the sole mission in mind of it taking you until the following Christmas to work you way in!

Regular readers will have no doubt noticed a tendency towards references of the geeky persuasion throughout the blog. Alex gave me a canvas Westeros map for Christmas.

I tell you all this as fair warning that I will lay much of the blame with him for leading me astray and encouraging me to stay there.

(Yorkshire, God's own county. And some other bits nobody cares about.)

Whether your celebrations at this time of year are indeed to mark Christmas or any other festival or holiday, I wish everyone the gift of as good health as possible with which to enjoy the festivities, and I shall be back on New Year's Eve with my thoughts on looking forward into the next year of my chronic illness story.

Wishing you all many spoons xxx

Bad Wolf

(www.walesonline.co.uk)

Some quick context: the other half bought the box set of Doctor Who containing all the episodes of the Ninth and Tenth Doctors. Before said box set's arrival I'd seen a little bit of David Tennant's Doctor and the odd episode of Matt Smith's but never really sat down to properly investigate the show any further.

All I can really say about the transformation from uninitiated to Whovian since then is that I'm so pleased I discovered it in time to fully appreciate the 50th anniversary special The Day of the Doctor, which was just an all round amazing piece of TV. A tip of the hat, Mr Moffatt.

Discussing the show with a couple of colleagues at work prompted the question of what the one thing would be that you'd go back and change in your life if you had a TARDIS. Whilst I sat listening to others suggestions and not commenting, someone asked "Well surely you'd make yourself well again?"

After a little time I answered "No I wouldn't."

The thought process of why took significantly longer to piece together, but I was completely certain nonetheless that given the opportunity of such a course of action I would refuse it. Politely, but refuse all the same.

This summer marked two years of adventures with Fibromyalgia and Interstitial Cystitis, the twin personal demons I've grown to know. Setting aside the positives which have risen from that period of time, just the thought of how indescribably different the last two years would have been without my falling ill is in some ways a terrifying one in itself.

The whole of time and space may not rest on those threads being unpicked, but it would be an incredibly different experience for me. I wonder if this is the mark of beginning to find true acceptance; just knowing I no longer wish to alter things.

(Yep, this was me. I probably should be ashamed of how terrible the pun is.)

Those experiences allowed for the eventual creation of The Retired Bridgeburner, and formed the doorway into a number of truly wonderful communities here on the net. My stint as an admin for Chronic Illness Cat has been something incredibly rewarding and it's a page I'm quite proud to be a part of. There may be no cure and no ultimate answer, but it's good to feel a part of something which in many small ways does some good.

Every second of your life has led to and contributed to the person you are now, just as every instance of mine has done the same for me. I'm quite aware of the fact that those two years, however difficult and frightening they were at times, have contributed positively to me as a person. Part of that experience softened some edges and ultimately re-wrote the song of the way I view so much of what is around me. It might be true that I'm too much of a perfectionist to ever rest easy with everything, but still I rather prefer this new and tempered music.

Granted, I've given plenty up in that time be it people, activities I'd found enjoyment in and indeed to some extent an old identity which no longer fitted the new reality. If I take emotion out of play I realise I'm actually quite lucky, because for everything I lost as a result of Petunia's appearance I have gained something more precious, even if it was just a better appreciation of the things I had.

I found a new joy in my creative outlets be it sketching or writing because I appreciated them that much more for their limitation at the hands of my health. Live music has more impact because of the hard work it takes to hold sickness at bay just enough to be able to attend. Time with friends who live further afield has become much the same also - it's harder to take something for granted when it can knock you flat for a week afterwards.

I've always been a creature of passion and emotion which runs close to the surface - I've poked fun at myself in a previous post already for how easily I react emotionally to books, films and the like - but I get far more pleasure out of those simple things now than I did before, when I rarely took a breather from dashing about at top speed to fully appreciate them. As such, those emotions run closer to the surface than ever, and the attachments are stronger for it.

The new one as I'm sure you've guessed is Doctor Who. It's been wonderful to discover the show and find it to be far more emotionally driven and on occasion infinitely more deep thinking than I ever would have given it credit for. I've shed tears a few times and I cheered out loud at Peter Capaldi's unexpected appearance in the anniversary. Being able to get that caught up in the moment is a real joy.

So, what would I change if I had a TARDIS? 

(It'll be a long time before this is knocked off the spot of my favourite TV moment. Image courtesy of bbc.com)

Nothing, really. Except maybe to pop back and have tea with Professor Tolkien.


If you're wondering at the title, Rose is my favourite companion. And as often as I'm prodded, I still refuse to choose between Ecclestone and Tennant for a favourite. I love them both equally.

Does anybody have any thoughts on this? Would you change your health given the chance, or are there things you appreciate and would want to remain the same?

Wishing you all many spoons xxx