The Naming of Cats

But I tell you, a cat needs a name that's particular,
A name that's peculiar, and more dignified,
Else how can he keep up his tail perpendicular,
Or spread out his whiskers, or cherish his pride?
Of names of this kind, I can give you a quorum,
Such as Munkustrap, Quaxo, or Coricopat,
Such as Bombalurina, or else Jellylorum-
Names that never belong to more than one cat.

The Naming of Cats - T. S. Eliot

Much and more has been happening! We finally completed on the Upside Down House this week!

What a relief! We move in next week, so I will be spending the rest of the weekend playing several rounds of High Fantasy Tetris.

What’s High Fantasy Tetris, you ask? A game I invented when I moved up to York – I have a thing about getting all of the same series of books in the same box, no matter how many times I have to re-pack said box to make it so. This is usually fine until there’s more than ten books and they’re all doorstops.

Hello, packing the Malazan Book of the Fallen! We meet again!

However, something we didn’t particularly foresee happened recently too. We met a cat.

After losing a beloved pet there is an expected period of grief, but once you naturally come out of this there next comes a phase where the house feels perpetually empty for lack of a four-legged presence. As we are unashamed cat people, we soon realised there wasn’t a chance of us not looking to have another cat once we’d moved in.

We’d pretty much settled on the Cats Protection shelter in York, as one of the only ones we enquired with who were prepared to match individual cat to individual circumstances instead of having a blanket “no indoor cats” or “no cat flap, no cat” policy. There’s nowhere in the Upside Down House suitable for a cat flap, so we decided to stick to the one place that seemed sensible.

(http://www.cats.org.uk/)

We’d been keeping an eye on a particular cat for a while on their website, and I had started to wonder what the unspoken facts about him might be. He’d been on there for a long time and was a young and very handsome tabby cat who was specified indoor only on his profile. The more weeks went by with him remaining unreserved, the more curious I became.

Eventually curiosity got the better of us both and we called to enquire about him. My instincts weren’t wrong – he is FIV positive. For the unfamiliar, consider it roughly the feline equivalent of the HIV virus in humans. This explained the restriction that he must remain indoors, and the shelter invited us to come in and meet him and discuss the circumstances involved in looking after an FIV positive cat.

As it turns out, it’s not as complicated an enterprise as you might think. There will be potentially a few more visits to the vet than with a completely healthy cat (but there are no guarantees an FIV negative cat wouldn’t need unexpected trips there either) and there is the possibility of a somewhat shortened lifespan. However, to my mind when you take on a pet you take on the painful inevitability that you will outlive them, and with love and care there is every chance of an FIV positive cat living a long and happy life.

What saddened me was that he had been there for so long because people heard this complication and ran. He might be very handsome, playful and loving, but he’s different. There’s a little more risk and a little more complication and the lack of a squeaky-clean bill of health, and so nobody wanted to give this little cat a chance. I’m not sure I entirely have the words for how saddening that was, particularly after meeting him and him being such a friendly boy. 

It goes to prove a point that continually annoys me - some people get a cat because they think cats are "easy" and don't require much looking after. Give them a possibility outside of their "easy package cat" box and they run for the hills. 

There’s a line in a film called Seabiscuit “You don’t give up on a life just because it’s banged up a little”. In the film that applies to both the eponymous equine and also the people around him, and to me it should indeed extend to people and animals alike. We’re all different, human and animal, and that means we all have different challenges. None of that makes us unworthy of a chance, and of a little bit of care and compassion.

The little tabby cat will be somewhat ill for the rest of his life (he’s only seven months old). What struck me immediately was that in actual fact, so will I.

Does that have to mean I’m doomed to be passed over in life in favour of healthier people because I’m that little bit more complicated? I sincerely hope not.

Happily, from now on neither will he.

(This is his Cats Protection photo - I will share some of our own soon!)

Newly-christened Fiddler the tabby will be coming home with us next weekend. 

Whether my own health experiences and my feelings about them played any part in the decision I’ll never be one hundred percent sure (I suspect they did though), but there was never really a much intention of us not giving him the chance of a loving home when so many people wouldn't. 

Especially not considering he made a bee line for me and after a quick cuddle proceeded to try and eat my coat buttons for reasons I can’t pretend to understand – there’s something just a little (read: a lot) endearing about that.

Wishing you all many spoons xxx

The Art of Being Polite

(I do, and I very rarely do. Image from www.keepcalm-o-matic.com.uk)

I’m British, and as you may be aware one of the things we British are known for (apart from Stephen Fry, Doctor Who and corgis) is being polite when we’re actually thinking something quite rude. We’re staunchly passive aggressive in this regard - it’s up there with such known British quirks as automatically saying sorry for things which we know were the other person’s fault.

 

I have the added bonus of working in the legal system, which takes this to a whole new unimagined level. Beginning a sentence with “With respect”  in a legal letter for example roughly translates as “I’m going to explain this very slowly to you, because you clearly have the intellectual capacity of goldfish."

So, for a bit of light-hearted humour, I decided to apply the “What the British say vs what they actually mean” approach to some of the most irritating/silly questions I’ve ever been asked about life with a chronic illness.

 

Before anyone potentially gets offended, I will just point out this is very tongue in cheek. I am well aware most people's curiosity is completely harmless, and that the vast majority are not as obtuse as the questions they sometimes ask. I merely ask you consider the more colourful responses you yourself may consider if you'd answered the same question fifty-odd times and counting.

 

So, for a bit of fun:

 

 

But… how can you not drink alcohol at all?

What I say: Well, it took a bit of getting used to but now I don’t really notice. I miss the odd specific drink but nothing major.

What I mean: I walk up to a bar and I order that-which-is-not-alcohol. It’s my superhero power.



How can you be in pain all the time? That’s not even possible.

What I say: That's what a chronic pain condition is. It's not particularly well understood, as such there's no cure so it's difficult to know how best to go about preventing patients from being in pain. It's just one of those things.

What I mean: Because wizards. Moron.

(See? Wizards... image from diydespair.com)

So it’s a chronic fatigue condition. Why don’t you just go to bed early?

What I say: Sadly it’s not the sort of fatigue that any amount of sleep particularly benefits. I still have to be careful how much I do on a daily basis and sometimes even that doesn’t work.

What I mean: If you honestly think I wouldn’t have tried that in the last three years, I suspect your brain is missing.

Maybe you just need to go out more?

What I say: That’s not always a good idea for various reasons, but I do get out as much as I’m able to.

What I mean: No I most certainly don’t, going out is how I end up talking to people who ask silly questions...

(....what?)

Don’t you think it’s all about attitude?

What I say: With respect, positivity can’t wholly solve any medical issue. I think there’s a great deal more to it that’s a fairly dismissive assumption.

What I mean: I mean no respect whatsoever because I think you’re an idiot. I suspect that’s not the attitude you were referring to, however.

Aren’t you a bit young to be  ill?

What I say: A lot of chronic conditions typically manifest in the early 20’s, but can crop up at any age. It’s just one of those things.

What I mean:  No, but I’m definitely a bit young to be this cynical about people…

How come you don’t look ill?

What I say: Because all the symptoms are internal - that’s why it’s an “invisible” illness.

What I mean: Say it with me, "invisible". There’s this thing called a dictionary - perhaps you should try it.

(Nectar of the gods. Also, just to be clear, we Brits don't all serve tea in the finest china. We aren't all the cast of Downton Abbey.)

*In response to not feeling well* - Do you want a cup of tea?

What I say: Yes, I’d love one.

What I mean: I’m British - that’s a completely rhetorical question.

We’re a strange bunch, we Brits. However, keep me in copious amounts of tea and I’ll allow you to ask me all the stupid questions you wish.  Cake is also good.

Wishing you all many spoons xxx

WEGO Health Activist Awards 2014!

(The main WEGO Health Acitivist Awards page)

So, it's that time of year again!

2014 is the fourth annual WEGO Health Activist Awards, set up for people to recognise the health activisits who enrich their lives in some way shape or form, for which they can nominate them in any of 14 categories, which are:

• Advocating for Another
• Best in Show: Blog
• Best in Show: Community/Forum
• Best in Show: Facebook
• Best in Show: Google+
• Best in Show: Instagram
• Best in Show: Twitter
• Best in Show: Youtube
• Best Kept Secret
• Best Team Performance
• Health Activist Hero
• Hilarious Health Activist
• Lifetime Achievement
• Rookie of the Year

Much to my pleasant surprise, I had to re-activate my award profile from last year as The Retired Bridgeburner has been nominated for three awards! I'm up for Best in Show: Blog, Best Kept Secret and Hilarious Health Activist.

Thank you so much to those who nominated me! As the profile is now active you can add your nomination reason if you wish, anonymously or with a name. I'd love to know who did nominate me (either on the profile page or via another form of contact) so that I can say thank you personally!

I would absolutely love to be shortlisted this year (wouldn't everyone?) and if you'd like to help me on my way, please pop over to the profile page below and click the "Endorse" button. It takes five seconds and is one of the factors which is taken into account when choosing the shortlists for the various awards. A few people have already done so, and again, thank you very much!

I'm genuinely quite overwhelemed. I always said that if this blog helped one person, it would be enough to make doing so worthwhile. It would appear I was a little short of the mark in counting in singular.

I consider myself blessed with a wonderful readership, you guys are wonderful.

Without further ado, the profile link is below. Nominations are open until December 31 and endorsements are already available and will continue past this date (final date to be announced, I will let you know when I find out).

My award profile

One very happy Bridgeburner wishing you all many spoons xxx

"Just One"

This year's Invisible Illness Awareness Week campaign was "Just One". We are all "just one", but as a chronic illness patient you are one of over one hundred million sick people the world over. You are someone, and you matter.

I missed the week this year with everything going on (as detailed in my last post), but although a little late (which is better than never) I wanted to show my support regardless as the campaign is a wonderful one and raises awareness and community spirit every single year. 

(http://invisibleillnessweek.com/)

I am Just One. There will only ever be one of me. There will only ever be one of Petunia.

My chronic illnesses are fibromyalgia (with associated infrequently active costochondritis) and interstitial cystitis. Together they make up Petunia, a joke run amock comparing them to a stroppy teenager living inside me who inevitably ended up with a name which stuck.

They present difficulties. There are activities I had to give up or restrict, there are plenty of things I have to turn down on the basis of being too tired and in to much pain. I don't drink, I have a restricted diet and many every day activities are far more difficult than they should be. Sometimes they are impossible. My sickness record will inevitably never be perfect. Sometimes I am entirely housebound.

So, in some ways I am "the one who's ill". I am the one who is tired a lot and leaves every event early. I am the one who is sometimes unreliable and doesn't show up at all. I am the one viewed as awkward when I raise concern about what seem to be normal, commonplace things. I am the one with the funny diet who doesn't drink. I'm the one who has far less energy than is normal for a mid-20 year old. I am the one who sometimes can't stand the most common place of noises, and yet other times is completely fine.

Sometimes I am the one for whom existence can be painful and exhausting to the point of tears.

However, that is far from all I am.  In being "just one" we can all be far more than our illness.

I am one of the ones who is an administrator for the Chronic Illness Cat community, where we are all far more than just one. We're a community and we endeavour to laugh and poke fun just as much as possible at the colourful array of difficulties life with chronic invisible illness presents.

I am the one who creates. I am currently doing some of the artwork for a frined's table-top RPG (I promise to stop blogging and get it finished soon!), I make things for those I care about and I most recently re-created the map of Middle Earth for our new house. No matter the energy this takes, I still continue to do it.

I am the one who strives against Petunia for the things I enjoy. I am a fan of music and theatre, and we are regularly at odds over whether attendance is worthwhile. I love animals and go out of my way to spend time around them in some way shape or form. I still firmly believe that some things are worth the price inevitably paid. I am the one who makes that decision time and time again to fight and to not give in or give up.

I am the one who feels things very deeply. Instead of being embarrassed by my emotional attachment to books, films and other media and listening to the cynicism which would present this as "wrong", I have embraced this as part of necessary and healthy catharsis in my life. I am the one who has shed tears over The Silmarillion with each new re-read, and who wept for the last thirty pages or so of Steven Erikson's The Crippled God (and not for the first time in that series). I am the one who will never be embarrassed by this again.

I am the one who conisders herself lucky enough to know some of the best people in the world. I am blessed with some truly wonderful friends who make everything more bearable, both near and far. I am fortunate enough to have an incredibly supportive family.

Lastly, I am the one who strives to make her small corner of the internet a helpful, informative and cheerful place for any of that one hundred million who want to drop by and read. I am the one who will continue to do so for just as long as I can, in the knowledge that if I can comfort even one person then all the spoons which go into the blog are worth it.

I am "just one" wishing you all many spoons xxx

Adventures in Adulthood

(Casually rejecting adulthood in all its forms)

There are some things in life you can never avoid. There are other things that are worth it in the end but come with a list of inevitable side effects and unpleasant aspects you wouldn't wish on anyone.

I found this to be one of the earliest lessons of life with a resident internal prankster. You rather quickly end up in an endless cycle of analysis and decision making about what is or isn't worth the predictable side effects and the necessary days of recovery.

Most things in life you can apply this to. Nobody likes to miss events like birthdays, weddings and family occasions, but sometimes such things are necessary. We all have different things for which we are most prepared to throw caution to the wind.

However, some life events answer to nobody's schedule, analysis or planning. This I have discovered in the process of buying our first house.

Firstly, we're about to exchange contracts so we're almost there. The conclusion cannot come swiftly enough for my liking, and despite having the chance to party I would hazard a guess that even Her Tempestuous Majesty wouldn't say no to a bit of a well-earned rest.

Secondly, the whole conveyancing process has revealed some control issues I've successfully kept hidden up to press. I do not do well when things which have a huge impact on me are completely outside of my influence.

What has become apparent is that we don't have the best legal representation in the world. I won't bore you all with the details but plenty of things have been less than confidence inspiring. It also transpires that no amount of coercing makes said legal representation better. We haven't hit threats of impending doom yet, but I'm not convinced even that would raise so much as an eyebrow.

That this situation is unpleasant and stressful is one of the only things Petunia and I are wholly united on. It's also firmly in the category of unavoidable - it will be finished when it is finished and not one moment sooner.

To give the short version, I've been in virtually a permanent flare up for the last month to six weeks. I've just about managed a routine of very early bed times which keeps me functioning enough to go to work, but little else.

Outside of general day to day, a recent wedding was from an illness perspective completely disastrous, but more positively I managed a small corset-laced excursion to an Edguy gig with friends. Tired or not, fun is a must for keeping the spirits up when larger matters are out of your hands. For me there is little in the world a good power metal gig cannot temporarily improve.

(Proof that both corset and outing happened, because at this rate I may dismiss this whole period as a bad dream...)

I've been off my food frequently, bursting into tears with little provocation and my sensory overload symptoms have been virtually unceasing. Every little innocuous noise at home has been almost panic-inducing and it feels like surviving mere existence is exhausting. I am so excited about moving to a tiny country village and wholly ready to embrace the comparative quiet.

The upshot of this is that the outcome will be so worth it. We're buying our first home together, a quirky little house in a beautiful village in the West Yorkshire countryside, and having been checking out the area I can only opine that Yorkshire isn't called God's own county for nothing.

What do you mean I'm biased because I'm from here?

Some things are inescapable, and it's all about how you meet the challenge they present. When nothing will make the stimulus change, it's best to be as positive and health-conscious as possible until it passes.

So, I'm resting a lot and trying to steal small pockets of time for myself with a book as often as possible. Much and more Tolkien has been devoured.

One of those things is gaming nostalgia a la the Forgotten Realms. Most recently it's been Icewind Dale 2, sequel to my favourite piece of nostalgia gaming on this good Prime Material Plane.

One thing though, IWD2?

"Rest until fully healed", you say?

Chance would be a fine thing. The first order of business for our gorgeous Upside Down house may be to make a solid attempt at such a thing.


What life events have inevitably affected your health? How did you cope with them?

Hefting my adventuring gear and wishing you all many spoons xxx

Don't be hasty

"It is a lovely language, but it takes a very long time to say anything in it, and we never say anything unless it is worth taking a long time to say, and to listen to."

Treebeard on "Old Entish" - The Two Towers, JRR Tolkien

That's the sentiment I'm musing on today - nothing worth having or doing is ever easy, they say. Whoever "they" are, their bedside manner needs a talking to. 

I (and other bloggers) often talk about the things you can inevitably no longer do when faced with long term ill health. We also turn this on its head and talk about the things that we *can* still do. However I don't think personally I've ever much talked about the middle ground - the things you can do but which take significantly longer to achieve. 

I think that's worth talking about. Understandable frustration aside, with things like that it's still perfectly possible to achieve your goal even if it takes two or three or twenty times as long as it may once have done. It's very easy to get caught up in the frustration of the process and lose focus on the identical end result. 

For me as a creative person, something I make which has taken a long time is just that little bit more special to me. The difficulty involved makes the achievement greater. 

This is highly relevant, because after many, many hours and much frustration indeed I finally finished my baby this evening: 

(Not going to lie, this was a little bit emotional.)

It's my gift to the other half and to our new house (which we will hopefully be in soon!) and it's the first time in a long time I've made something purely for me, or by extension us. I still have other things going on creatively speaking, but this was well and truly my baby because it was so personal and the source means so much to me. 

However, it wasn't without incredible frustration. I false-started three times with the initial pencil outline. My hands were stiff and particularly un-dexterous the first few times I sat down to begin, even with the aid of my heat therapy gloves. The third time I genuinely thought I'd never get started - I couldn't even draw the outline of the coast. 

Not to be deterred, eventually I managed to get started and in short stints the larger map took shape. The crowded spaces of Arnor and Eriador and then Gondor gave me endless trouble and many re-visits were needed. 

Interesting point: the map of Middle Earth doesn't scale into A sizes. At all. The observant among you will notice the bottom half of the map is actualy proportionately smaller than the top - but then I never claimed to be perfect and I don't create with the goal of perfection. Accuracy yes, but utter perfection is impossible and it wouldn't really feel like something I'd made if it was an exact replica of the source image. 

Some fifteen to twenty hours later, there you have it. The background is very pale because I love the pen colour and felt that it should be left to shine a bit. Mordor is shaded slightly darker and the opposite corner has a burnt umber overtone to it, just to give some depth and variance. I want it to look old after all. 

I will also point out this hurt my hands a lot throughout those hours. However, I accept when I start a project like this that this is inevitable. And yes, it would have taken me about a third of that time at one stage. 

Thing is though, the end result is still there. I still finished. and still created something I'm really proud of. I think given that it was worth the extra time and flaring up and tiredness.The frustration is a worthy price for the sense of achievement. 

Something that was worth doing in a set amount of time is still worth doing in double or triple that amount of time if you care about it enough. Petunia teaches me little that is useful, but patience isn't entirely without merit. 

So, don't be hasty. 

"Never is too long a word, even for me."

Treebeard - The Two Towers, JRR Tolkien

I promised a blog when the map was finished - now I'm going to go and sleep for about a week. Wake me when we can pick they keys up, would you?

Wishing you all many spoons xxx

Things I discovered this week: The Sequel

Consider this the second in the series of "The Retired Bridgeburner buys a house and gets thoroughly frustrated with everything to do with being a grown up and is now considering coming back as a cat."


1. Conveyancing solicitors are bad for your blood pressure, spoon levels and just about everything else. 

I will be brutally honest and say that I don't think there's a single more frustrating process on the planet than that of conveyancing. I say this knowing full well that as we're a sole purchase it could be a great deal worse were we selling or indeed doing both at once. I cannot adequately describe the sheer number of spoons I would expend dropping our conveyancer from a great height. Repeatedly. I'd make the scene from Sherlock look gentle. The rollercoaster of skidding from "What the hell are they even doing?" to "Everything is under control" roughly once a week is becoming both tiring and boring. Can I just have my house now please?

Mr solicitor, consider yourself weighed, measured and found wanting.

(So much. Image from wifflegiffle.com)

2. My brain does not do "shades".

Specifically shades of wood. My brain was crafted to do many things indeed, but accurately judging furniture in a shop against furniture I already own and have spent many years being in the vicinity thereof for matches of colour seems to have been missed of the list. When purchasing a wardrobe, I was convinced the bed I've slept in for the last eighteen months was *not* that shade (oak, apparently) at all, only to come home with the catalogue, hold the list of shades up to the bed and find that in fact it is that shade, has always been that shade and will likely remain so short of some sort of painting accident.

It would help tremendously if pine, beech, oak and the like meant the same thing across shops - whcih they resolutely do not. I mean honestly, how do people do this? Is this a gift from the magical land of Adult that hasn't arrived yet?

(It's totally this. Image found on Tumblr, original animation from Disney's Hunchback of Notre Dame)

3. My partner and I have absolutely no self-discipline to speak of. 

I have already stated on here before that we are getting a cat when we move. If we were reasonable adult beings with an ounce of discipline between us we would not be looking at rescue centre websites and waxing lyrical about how gorgeous one cat or another is, and Alex would not be planning an army of cats. Alas, we are not and therefore we keep sneaking a look and fervently hoping one cat after another is still about when we've moved in.

The upside of course is that I'm sure the cats who aren't will have gone to good homes, which is the thing that matters. Still, we're allowed to mourn all the wonderful Miniature Giant Space Cat pun opportunities a little grey cat called Boo would have allowed us.

(Fellow Baldur's Gate players, take a biscuit on the way out. Image from giantbomb.com)

4. Choosing a dining room set based on the fact the table extends because you're going to start playing Dungeons and Dragons is a perfectly legitimate reason. 

It's a nice table and chair set as well, but that was somewhat secondary to "Oh look, there's an extendable panel in the middle!" in the list of reactions.

Our starter pack for Fifth Edition arrived last week. We've never played it before, so to test it out I killed the same goblin at least three times, whilst he killed me at least six. I used a pre-made character sheet for a Lorekeeper of Oghma (adventuring librarian at your service!) which stated I was something of an insufferable know it all. This flimsy justification for arguing technicalities did not stop the trainee-DM (Alex) dropping three dragons on me when he got fed up of me explaining oxen wouldn't be scared of the sight of dead horses in the road, but they would certainly be scared of the smell of blood.

What? It's called roleplaying, children.

(So excited to get started! Image from greyhawkgrognard.blogspot.com)

5. I am apparently not allowed to sing the packing song from Disney's Sword in the Stone whilst packing. 

There has been an embargo placed on my "unique" taste in packing music. No Higitus Figitus for me.

I maintain however that "Books are always first you know..." is perfectly sound packing and unpacking advice.

Altogether now! "Hockety pockety wockety whack, odds and ends and bric a brac...."

(Merlin, a wizard who has his priorities straight. Image from cokieblume.wordpress.com)

Watch this space, as the next date will hopefully be when we've moved in to the Upside Down house! And yes, I'm going to sing the packing song anyway.

Wishing you all many spoons xxx