Sunday 13 November 2011

with a little bit of blooming luck...

and a lot of help I may now be able to talk to you without the page looking as if it has been edited by psychedelic spiders.  Whilst in the hospital and, under the influence of quite a few, new to me, drugs, well and strange experiences, I would find myself wide awake in the middle of the night and would write furiously on any piece of paper to hand, or a sheet or my thigh....all these bits to be delivered to Sazzie who, amazingly managed to make some sort of sense from them, edit and print them, for which dedication I am truly etc..

I must say though that my story about my nine chapters on Hedonism? was a lot funnier in the original Lesbianism version.  So this is where I start putting in the mad meanderings of my midnights thoughts.

So here you are my people, waiting with bated breath this morning, evening, night of the pre biopsy of the bleeding, bloody blight that bites and burns and burrows it’s many headed back-sides in my space. Today we are naming and shaming you, yes? er, no.

Bright-eyed and bushy tailed, scrubbed up and gleaming brightly, their futures glow from the dark Iris, the so white teeth and faux faux very expensively designed to look like Top Shop leggings and casuals....the acolytes tumble onto the ward.  It is perfectly evident to anyone with an eye for nuance to recognise the quietly unprepared-think fur coat and no knickers so that when small man...[who I know has very big place in my particular bit of ‘biz) all I know is lovely smile possibly Sr lanken...a lot of's ‘I have decided’s’ even as around and beside him his ineffectual (as it turned out) words are being recorded by his PA’s and er...people. ‘So very sorry, Mrs. er, Mrs...’ waving frantically brought forward...’Annie, but ‘der has bin some confusion...’

Me: No...and no and no. I was promised, it was written,  reserved BOOKED.
‘Let me explain.’

‘No.’ I am actually sulking, and glowering, I feel my face lowering and I want to charge him, like a bull. 'Allez you blithering idiot.'  With all due respect [oh how those words can wither] for all the many people around you [and I am sorry but I do not know who you are - or what part you are playing in this saga [I am beginning to enjoy this as my dear new steroid friends jog me up a gear in the old thought proccesses ] 3 acolytes begin to speak at once, and I understand that he is the Geriatrics Consultant [] attached to my GP and he it is who alerted this man to my parlous state of wicked Shrek witch [see pics if you think you are hard  enough]and pointed out that the swellings involved were not caused by my new best friends the Steroids, but sumpen much more deadly  was about to separate brain and body or some such and above and beyond a nasty Geriatric cough.......elevating me onto a higher more interesting plane. Seems I have another Consultant, female, Greek, walks on Mount Olympus, and who, somewhere in this Universe is fed bits and pieces by these Handmaidens, and she will decide in the course of rapidly running out of time, whether or not I live or die.

So- no- not today but tomorrow.
The night has been very interesting - and it is all in texts flying in between Sazzie and  I perhaps she can sort them out.

Till we meet again.
Back at home: Wednesday 9 November

Bit of an update here folks.
I am in the hands of my darling and he had it all sussed out. Up most of the day, all the excitement of, well unlimited tv, sulky dog who no longer loves me best...crash course in Apple Mac and I would be ready to sleep at eight. So we’re all geared up...mac out of reach as are phones which tend to be busy with my  middle-night meanderings.  After half an hour of talking he says, okay, I’m going to read my newspaper, you obviously are not ready to sleep. Actually I am.  

I listen as he reads, shuffling the paper, rustling it’s leaves provocatively. Then I’m sure he is eating...surely that is chocolate paper. I accuse him...JP Ja’accuse...or words to that effect, certainly spelt  better. Then, suddenly, and I mean just like that, as if knocked on the head, he is asleep. 11pm, good time to go...bit of luck 4 hours...and he is sleep and I not.  I text Sazzie on the mean ness of it but the batteries are dead...and there is no  free plug in this room which appears to be ready for take off.  I listen with bared teeth, I  truly want to sleep head itches...I usually have to sleep upright to stop the wheezes driving me bonkers but tonight Im going to lie down and wheeze for England, but, here's another bloody but...I’m imagining, at least I hope I’m imagining, that there are fleas in my mass of pilows.
Surely not, yet my head and neck and my wrists are going some.  Steroids? Let’s blame them.

He calls out, quite surly, as if he hasn’t had a good two and  half hours of shut eye...’Don’t move anymore, I’m coming in.’
I start to laugh and at first I hear irritation when he says not to get excited or I’ll have to have a Tina special [more of which another time, this aside has gone on long enough and you will have all left me by now].
‘What I really would love is one of your special nectars and...did I not spy scones in the kitchen? He agreed that the idea was good, fixed my pillows bought me mr. mac and that is why we both had a mid-night feast instead of a good nights sleep.

You are not going to like this but I’m moving backwards.  I shall tell you that you haven’t missed anything as, at the time of scratching this out in a midnight ramble, I had not been processed of the liver. I have now...but...oh dear those wretched buts.
No, what I’m doing is a bit of The Ronnie Corbutts [sp]  Well known is our Ronnie for never being able to tell a story in a straight line.
Some mighty strange things have been a happening to me and don’t any of you go jumping on the ‘God’ theme just yet ‘cos you should know, I’ve certainly never tried to hide it but from five to nine years of age in an extremely rigid Anglo-Catholic system is gonna kill or cure one.

Odd thing number one.

I think it is my second day on the ward. Two new patients arrive to fill our four bays. The woman in the bed opposite is very ill...her neighbour walking wounded as am I. I never learn the name of my neighbour and she leaves that afternoon.

Later, we talk, exchange names and I feel rather strange when I learn there is an Iris and a June...My mother’s name was Iris and, when she danced professionaly called herself June. ‘All we need now is an Eleanor’ I that woud be really weird.’
‘I’m Aleanor..will that do?’ asked the darling girl who plays Soccer for Canterbury and cleans and pours us tea and sympathy popping her head up from her trolley.

Can anyone calculate the chances of that happening?  Iris eleanor/June all in my room in a time of crisis?

Thought not.
I’m ready for you.
Come on boots...start walkin’

Second odd thing, and you have been warned...not a godloving word, do you hear.
Last night, finally I slept, after a fashion you understand...guided and protected by one quarter of Tina’s magic pill [really got you going on this one, haven’t  I?]  I slept anyway.  I had said goodnight to my loved ones by way of the badly written texts, sent NOAO son home and had completely come to the conclusion that Palliative care was going to be it..the turned heads, the lowered look, the pat phrases...l just thought Oh well.

But I did sleep and awoke in a tangled dissaray. Time? perhaps five hours later...Tina’s pills are the biz...and for a girl such as l, a drug free space filled only with the lovely deadly nicotine, any pill will send me.
So I’m awake and so disorientated. I sit up, untangle the clothes and stagger to the floor. A nurse appears, a dim fugure taking care of a true patient. ‘Go back to bed...’ she says.
‘Yes, I will, ‘ I say...but l need to tell her. ‘I’m fine, truly Im ok.’ No that she appears  to mind whether I am ok or not...she’s is misty, odd.
But I am fine, I truly am.
I know.
I have no pain.
I am not confused or scared.
Whatever the outcome l KNOW all is well.
Weird or what?
Made the mistake of telling someone - it was as if someone's hand had been put  on my head.

Night night
[most of this was written in the semi-dark, in the middle of the night and disorientated awakenings - and I felt it justified to replicate without too much editing or cleaning up,  there are a few more coming up, after which we will be back in real time - Moannie]


  1. You are one strong, funny, interesting lady. I have much admiration for you. I'm enjoying your midnight meanderings. Stay strong.

  2. May your midnight meanderings be bright, Moannie - You are strong and lovely, sending you love and hugs and thanks for being you! xxx

  3. The chemistry that we mess with in our bodies brings such odd visitors in the night. But it did not subdue the poet in you. Hope you feel better in the morning light.

  4. Well, if I hadn't tried these meds myself, I wouldn't have believed your words. You caught the state beautifully here. There is a lot of creative juice going on in your semi-awake state.
    Get rest.
    Get strong.
    Thanks so much for sharing with us.

  5. Love your photo.
    You are funny with your descriptions of the nightly wanderings.
    Hoping that everything will go well.
    Keep resting (says she who finds that difficult!) but it is essential after all the trauma you've been through.
    Maggie X

    Nuts in May

  6. This is brilliant! And so are you!

    Keep being better every day, and nights too.

  7. A great new portrait you have there, plus a night of inspired meanderings which have kept us all enthralled! Stick with it, lady!

  8. Excellent post, M. Keep up the good work!

  9. This is quite a roller coaster trip you are on Moannie....another adventure in your extraordinary life....and you are facing it with strength and humour .... believe..just believe....and hold tight.

  10. Amazing! Astounding that you were able to write anything at all, never mind this almost coherent jumble of nonsensical prose that is practically poetry! Your photograph is beautiful, too...

  11. Oh, dear....Moannie, I NEVER meant to offend you by telling you we were praying for you. I hope you won't ban me from your sight. I guess I missed it before if you ever said anything about not mentioning "the God theme". I will shrink back to my corner....just know, I still love ya, and still am praying for you.

  12. Dash it all Davis dear...I knew I would end up offending someone with my light as a feather stupidity... Please forgive me that it should be you. I am opening myself up totally to everything that might or might not happen to me and if that means perhaps finding out that I've got it wrong 'god wise' then I'm for that too. I am going to need every little bit of help that I can muster...I need you, all of you and whatever you care to shower me it light, prayer or simply love. XXXXX

  13. P.S.: I love Sazzie's portrait of you!

  14. Oh, Moannie, I was not offended. I have felt JUST LIKE YOU in the past, so I know exactly where you are coming from. The only thing is I decided that God is real, but organized religion, and a lot of the people who are in it, are not so great. People on the whole have a tendency of letting other people down, and church is made up of those people. I grew up in church....going every time the doors opened. I have not been in 17 years. But my faith in God and what He can do has not diminished one bit. And I will be here for you, even if you are against everything I am for....because we are all different... have had different experiences that make us who we are. I love you for you. You are a remarkable person, whom I have grown to admire so much!!!! So, unless you BAN me from your blog, you cannot get rid of me!! :)

  15. Moannie - your rambles are are music to my ears :)

    I have passed the versatile blogger award to you not because I want you to do anything with it other than know I have a huge love and respect for your blog. But rather because I suspect there may be one or two people who haven't found you yet and, in my small way, I wanted to rectify that so that they can share the pleasure you bring those of us who have.

  16. I've always loved your writing, and this is new stylistic territory for you. You've morphed into a sort-of female Jack Kerouac. And it's marvelous! Ramble, my dear. You know me (that is, you know the way I use parentheses) so please do go on. It comforts me.

    Prayers continue, whatever you think of them, so there!

  17. i'm really interested to be where your mind is in all this Moannie. it's almost as if the thought process jumps universes to explore what's left to explore.
    but as a fan of brilliance and great writing, i find myself perhaps too focused on your elegant speech.
    there are truly lines of astonishing brilliance in this post and i envy them

  18. I had to read your story here again. Stream of consciousness writing on steroids, strong as ever. I just wish that all the good that has ever been out in this world comes to your door.
    Much love,