Pain, rage and emo posturing
Yesterday, J and I spent several hours in the Accident and Emergency Department at our local hospital, waiting for him to get himself checked over. On Sunday evening he hit a patch of ice on his bike whilst he was cycling home from work and planted his face on the tarmac. He has some lovely scratches up his cheek, but those superficial injuries were just the tip of the iceberg. He landed on his left hip very hard, so hard in fact that even though he's not in a risk group for hip fracture they x-rayed that as well has his shoulder, which also took a great deal of impact. The A&E doctor was unable to make a conclusive judgment on J's shoulder film, but until the Radiologist rules it out on Thursday in fracture clinic he is being treated for a suspected fracture of the glenoid fossa (the cup in which the ball joint of his humerus sits, anatomy fans) He's understandably glum, sore and a little bit sorry for himself. I'm glad I dragged him to the hospital, though. He was even talking about going to work yesterday, but being the sole qualified nurse on a ward for the mentally hilarious whilst significanty damaged is not a good idea. I've seen him come home damaged after a patient has become agitated when he's been in full working order. Putting himself and other staff at risk by not being able to contain a potentially agressive situation due to incapacity is not really a good idea. Still, he has it in his mind that he'll be going back to work on Saturday. Somehow I very much doubt it.
Whilst we were in the waiting room at the hospital, I bumped into and got chatting to some family friends that we haven't seen for nearly 8 years since they came to our wedding. It must be over two years ago now since Jimmy had a massive stroke from which he was not expected to regain consciousness. But he did, and proceeded to make better progress than anyone expected. He now lives at home with his wife Di, who gave up her job as a nurse to look after him full-time. We had a really nice chat, caught up on family news and talked about why Jimmy was there [he's been having difficulty swallowing and needs some feeding up]. I was astounded, having only heard reports from my dad, how well he was able to communicate. He clearly struggles for the right words on occasion and I could tell this frustrated him no end. Still, no sooner had the porter come to take him to the ward, I started to cry. He's the same age as my dad, but looks at least twenty years older. The last time I saw him was the day J and I got married and the first I heard was that was in huge trouble with Di for offending the best man's wife. He had joined the rest of the groom's party for dinner the night before the big day and had suggested that L get up on the table and get her tits out since that's the only reason women would be present at a stag do. The tales that my dad told of the mischief they would get up to when they they were young were legendary. Difference is, my dad is still getting up to some of the same mischief. Jimmy can't. It seemed rediculous to be so upset. He seems happy, Di seems happy, and they were really chatty and lovely. I think it was just the shock of seeing someone I remembered as being so ebullient confined to a wheelchair with hemi-paralysis, seemingly having aged three years for my every one since the last time we met.
Then, once we got home, my mood swung again, this time to disproportionate burning rage. I don't understand what's going on inside my brain at the moment. One second I'm brimming with tears, the next I feel ready to tear up furniture for no reason whatsoever. The cause of my fury was this article, which is an essay on the the theory that in today's society, people have become suspcious of kindness. In fact, it's not the article that was the subject of my bile, but the second sentence in the opening preamble which states "In the age of the rampant free market and the selfish gene, compassion is seen as either narcissism or weakness". Seemingly inoffensive, I know, but the misappropriation of the term "selfish gene" from Richard Dawkins' work infuriated me beyond reason. The book "The Selfish Gene" and the concept that underpins is not that human beings are genetically selfish. It is not the selfish gene. It is the selfish gene. The concept is that organisms behave in a self-preserving way at a molecular level in order to ensure survival of the fittest, not that we have suddenly mutated into a species of self-serving creatures who are genetically incapable of behaving kindly or understanding others who do. That single line was enough to make me click off the article in disgust, unable to bring myself to read the rest of it even though I was interested in what it might have said. Completely irrational, yet utterly compelling. I've just opened the article again to get the quote and the URL and I still can't bring myself to look at it.
So yes, there is currently pain and rage at the Towers. The pain has a just and genuine cause. The rage and the moodswings, however, are a little harder to comprehend.
Whilst we were in the waiting room at the hospital, I bumped into and got chatting to some family friends that we haven't seen for nearly 8 years since they came to our wedding. It must be over two years ago now since Jimmy had a massive stroke from which he was not expected to regain consciousness. But he did, and proceeded to make better progress than anyone expected. He now lives at home with his wife Di, who gave up her job as a nurse to look after him full-time. We had a really nice chat, caught up on family news and talked about why Jimmy was there [he's been having difficulty swallowing and needs some feeding up]. I was astounded, having only heard reports from my dad, how well he was able to communicate. He clearly struggles for the right words on occasion and I could tell this frustrated him no end. Still, no sooner had the porter come to take him to the ward, I started to cry. He's the same age as my dad, but looks at least twenty years older. The last time I saw him was the day J and I got married and the first I heard was that was in huge trouble with Di for offending the best man's wife. He had joined the rest of the groom's party for dinner the night before the big day and had suggested that L get up on the table and get her tits out since that's the only reason women would be present at a stag do. The tales that my dad told of the mischief they would get up to when they they were young were legendary. Difference is, my dad is still getting up to some of the same mischief. Jimmy can't. It seemed rediculous to be so upset. He seems happy, Di seems happy, and they were really chatty and lovely. I think it was just the shock of seeing someone I remembered as being so ebullient confined to a wheelchair with hemi-paralysis, seemingly having aged three years for my every one since the last time we met.
Then, once we got home, my mood swung again, this time to disproportionate burning rage. I don't understand what's going on inside my brain at the moment. One second I'm brimming with tears, the next I feel ready to tear up furniture for no reason whatsoever. The cause of my fury was this article, which is an essay on the the theory that in today's society, people have become suspcious of kindness. In fact, it's not the article that was the subject of my bile, but the second sentence in the opening preamble which states "In the age of the rampant free market and the selfish gene, compassion is seen as either narcissism or weakness". Seemingly inoffensive, I know, but the misappropriation of the term "selfish gene" from Richard Dawkins' work infuriated me beyond reason. The book "The Selfish Gene" and the concept that underpins is not that human beings are genetically selfish. It is not the selfish gene. It is the selfish gene. The concept is that organisms behave in a self-preserving way at a molecular level in order to ensure survival of the fittest, not that we have suddenly mutated into a species of self-serving creatures who are genetically incapable of behaving kindly or understanding others who do. That single line was enough to make me click off the article in disgust, unable to bring myself to read the rest of it even though I was interested in what it might have said. Completely irrational, yet utterly compelling. I've just opened the article again to get the quote and the URL and I still can't bring myself to look at it.
So yes, there is currently pain and rage at the Towers. The pain has a just and genuine cause. The rage and the moodswings, however, are a little harder to comprehend.