I’ve been waiting to get test results back which has put me somewhat on edge the last few days, and the results are in! I have anaemia. This for someone still essentially recovering from a stroke is not good, so here comes the science bit.
Anaemia for most folk isn’t a huge problem. It’s easily treated by changing diet, or taking supplements, but I’ve had a stroke, and I’m recovering from that and thyroid cancer so not only is my body fighting all that, it now has this to deal with. What anaemia does is make the blood ‘sticky’, which essentially makes my blood more likely to clot and that isn’t good for someone like me who as I get older would be at more at risk of having a stroke anyhow. So I’ve leaped from medium to low risk back to high risk and now have to pump iron into my body like Popeye on crack.
So back to the doctor in a couple of weeks to see if things have changed. If it looks like it hasn’t then we’ll get to that step when it comes, but right now I will at one with my greens to try to push me back over the line into relative safety.
Today was a trip to the doctors on a damp bank holiday Monday, and rather than walking out into the shining pathway of joy and happiness, I’ve taken the ‘hmm, there’s something potentially scary at the end of this path‘ route.
So I’m now playing a waiting game for various tests to come back, and as has been the case since having my stroke, I await results with the eagerness of someone opening a council tax letter, or cleaning a cat’s litter tray after they’ve eaten a curry.
I’m hoping this is all a bit of a fright rather than a blip or worse but remember, things could be worse. I could be locked in a room with Nigel Farage and a bucket of sewage, though to be fair, me and the sewage would just be fine after we’ve beaten the crap out of Farage…
Since starting back at work I’m getting used to the daily commute, and not just that, getting used to a commute in a city (Glasgow) I’ve not done a commute in simply decades, and for years in both Bristol and Leicester I’ve lived within walking distance of work so things have changed. Not for the best either as negotiating on and off trains at Queen Street station is essentially like this.
Though with less lunatic Glaswegian cannibal punks trying to kill you.
Kill or be killed seems to be the mantra. Having spent so long in the terminally blasé setting of Bristol it will take some time to adjust to Glasgow’s more energised lifestyle as long as the cannibal punks don’t get me first…
For those of you not familiar with the world of Star Trek and especially the fine acting career of William Shatner, this is a Kobayashi Maru.
Since having a stroke in February of 2016, life has felt like a ‘no-win’ scenario especially with the cancer, slipped disc and Scotland’s men’s football team proving that no matter how hard you knock one problem down, there’s always another dropping out of warp to fire their photon torpedoes at you.
Yet, like Captain Kirk I don’t especially like to lose, even when everything seems to be folding back against you so with some trepidation it has to be said it does seem like my ‘no-win scenario’ is at least for the rest of my natural lifespan (however long that is now), over and a slow rebuilding of my life continues as carefully as possible. Yes, my empire of comics is on hold (mainly because I’m offline or at Glastonbury when it comes to booking tables at conventions. Bugger) but short steps.
All I need to do now is continue listening to my doctor, don’t do anything stupid and watch out for those pesky Kilingons….
This is a short companion to my story of brutal murder. As I’ve mentioned I’ve started a new job, but because of the stroke recovery my walking pace makes glaciers look like The Flash which can mean walking is painfully boring, or a chance to take in things others rushing to get from A to B quicker than a Donald Trump lie.
One of the nicer things I’ve registered is I’ve walked past Killermont Street every day, which for those of us of a certain age means a certain Roddy Frame/Aztec Camera song going through my head…
There could be far worse things stuck in my head, but because Glasgow has changed so much since I last lived here it didn’t actually dawn on me I was walking through Killermont Street til this morning where this song stuck. I hope I can share this with you and do the same because the song is one of Frame’s lost wee classics…
I saw a brutal, horrendous and probably uncompromisingly painful murder committed by two people today on the way home, and nobody did anything about it. The victim as still twitching and kicking when I lost earshot, so there may well have been life left in the poor thing, but as I just drifted out of range I heard one last death rattle so the murder was complete.
But before I explain, I should say I’m settling in back into the world of work. Today our wee group started probing each other’s lives and I got told I was aged between ’35 and 45′ so I’ll take this. Also just a wee note that my reviews of comics, etc will be found from now on at That’s Not Current, and this week you can read what I thought about Calexit #1. Anyhow, so far no major issues barring the morning smell of bleach outside the lifts at Queen Street Station, and oh, the brutal murder I witnessed this evening.
It was at Buchanan Street steps, a Glasgow landmark where I saw two men armed only with slightly out of tune electric guitars brutally wield them as they bludgeoned Pink Floyd’s Comfortably Numb over the head, neck and testicles til it couldn’t take any more pain or agony as it tried to crawl free to mercy, but these two lads were merciless as they garrotted this song (which I may remind you was finely covered by the Scissor Sisters) until it couldn’t breathe.
I’ve seen and heard brutal things in my life but the cold callousness here is something that shall live with me forever, and to make it worse as I drifted out of distance I’m sure I heard them round on Life on Mars.
The murderous bastards!
Today I completed the first full day of work since I had my stroke on the 19th February 2016, so I’m back on the coal face, and hopefully cutting my contact with the welfare system to a minimum. That alone should make my ongoing recovery feel better…
A job is ultimately a job and yes, I’m taking a step down but I don’t mind that. It’ll pay my bills and let me live while I work out what’s next and build up the comics. I will say it is nice to speak to people who don’t know the full story of my variety of illnesses and also just speaking to people normally without talking first of what drugs you’re on or how little you can feel in your right leg.
That said, I also need to remember I no longer live or work in Bristol. Leaving in the morning when it’s sunny and bright isn’t going to be the case when I leave at 5.30. I now live in Glasgow where rain is just a blink away so a brolly/raincoat will be with me tomorrow.
But I now start out on the next step. Lets see where this goes?