SHERINGHAM DIARY No 130 - Ticagrelor No More

I'm sat on a park bench in downtown Sheringham. Whilst I'm sat there a group of people walk past me. A middle aged couple and their son, and a much older man, probably in his mid eighties whose walking pace is very slow and precarious, even with the aid of a walking stick. The middle aged man, who was his son pipes up
'Are those steel toe caps on your shoes Dad!
Yes - he quietly responds 
Why on earth are you still wearing them now?
Cos I've alus worn em all mi life
the puzzled middle aged woman, comments
They must be very heavy to walk in Dad?
To which Dad gave no audible answer. He appeared to just lean heavier onto his walking stick, carrying on shuffling his feet purposefully, but slowly, along the pavement. Either turning a deaf ear to the implications of what had just been said, or mentally digging in to the existential rightness of his position - wobbly balance, wasted muscle mass, fallen arches 'n' all.

Since my dysfunctional altercation with a pan of spaghetti, I've been cosseting, protecting and repeatedly moistening the area of my hand that was badly scalded, as though it was a baby's bottom with a severe case of nappy rash. Oh, the creams, the soothing tinctures and ointments I've lavished on it. There's been one large scab the shape of Ireland, with an outlying Isle of Man, both covering where the inflatable blisters had happened and burst. Shadowing this a slart shaped area of browned skin, that slowly pealed back to reveal its tenderest vivid porky pink underbelly. 

Over the last fortnight these residuals have gradually quietened down. I no longer wear large Marigold gloves when showering, though that was fun, nor night bandages to protect the area whilst I sleep. The browned skin halo has gone, the lurid pink skin is almost gone. The scab of the ' Isle of Man' has vanished and 'Ireland' is slowly contracting and shriveling into nothing. No one would know to examine it now, quite how ghastly an injury it once was. This has led me to a whole new admiration for what the human body can do to repair itself. And what is most amazing, that it did all of this automatically. I just stood by and watched it happen. I cannot help but feel humbled and immensely grateful for this bodies innate healing capabilities.

Ticagrelor No More

Talking of healing, I crossed what I guess is a significant milestone post since the HA! recently. Its become part of my monthly routine ordering my medications on the NHS App, and a few days later picking them up from the Medical Practice Pharmacy. I noticed one of my medications had disappeared off the prescription list. And after much tooing and froing from me, and a distinct lack of clarity on the App and in the Medical Practice, about whether I needed to do or instigate something. I discovered the medication had a time limit placed on it. the doctor had reviewed it and removed it from the list. But no real communication or interaction with me, no clear explanatory note so I fully understood why. But Hey, once my current batch runs out next week, that's two less tablets to take every day. Which I suppose I could view as progress.

I was in the bus stop in Sheringham looking for the Coasthopper to arrive. About to set off on a Church Larking venture to Wells Next The Sea. As I'm patiently waiting I overhear a conversation behind me. Two old dears were talking about once living in Coventry and how much it had changed. One of the ladies remarked 'I never thought it was right them coming here to this country in the first place' to which the other lady said ' Well, that's not my experience, I take people as I find them and they were perfectly fine' . Which I thought was a very skillful assertion in response to a conversation that was in danger of venturing deeper into racist territory. Clearly marking a difference of opinion and then moving on.

Once I got on the bus another couple of elderly ladies, were doing what elderly ladies the world over do - talk very loudly on public transport so everyone can hear. This one was a more genteel conversation about making friends on holiday. 'Oh, I don't think we are at all cliquey, But you either like someone or you don't, don't you? When you meet folks for the first time you sort of know if they are alright or not, and find you just rub along well.... at least while you're on holiday'

The 90 Day Commit To Sit, period with the New York Zen Center, is within a week of coming to an end. Its been a quite useful time of consistent practice. I've fit into my morning routine listening to the short talk I get sent every day, reflect on it and write in my journal, before meditating, Tai Chi and concluding with a short just sitting. Its provoked a few strong moments of reactivity, and made me reflect on what I currently fill my mind and daily life with. As Uchijama Roshi says - 

'Anyone who asks who or what they’re living for is mistakenly searching for a most fundamental value outside of their self. That I am living means that I myself am living right now. Our text, lists eight different aspects or qualities, but what it all comes down to is just this: When I was born, I was born along with my world. When I die, my entire world will die with me. I am living right now—this is the foundation of all values. So if we ask what we’re living for—I am alive, living for me. I’m living right now; that’s it. Living fully right now is what is of absolute value.”

I'm beginning to realise that all my projects and plans and activities are all various forms of intention driven time filling. Some of these might feel like they are really important, but that importance is only to me, my psyche and my ego. There is no overarching life mission I've yet to discover, there is just the simple uncomplicated straightforward living of daily life. If you can get the need for self expression out of the way, it helps

As we are now well into September, Hubby and I started thinking about taking a holiday. After briefly considering going somewhere entirely new, we are heading once again to North Yorkshire. Staying in a bijou holiday cottage on a sheep farm, ideally placed between Pickering and Malton, and equidistant between York and Whitby. We love the area so much, we do appear to be going there every other year. We are also planning only our second visit to Scarborough, to see if we can discover anywhere in the town that you might realistically refer to as 'rather nice'.