Friday, 3 July 2009

Blackbird in Blue

I am watching a juvenile blackbird. She is incredibly excited having recently discovered the concept of flying and launches herself at everything with huge enthusiasm but seems to have still a bit of a problem with depth perception. She doesn’t care though. She’s just kind of..well …‘plummeted’ from the roof, smacking into the top of the fence and whammed down onto the grass popping back up, yellow beak high, with a Russian gymnast’s flourish Ta daaa! . It’s bloody glorious!

It makes me feel better which is good as I am sore. At 8:30 this morning, I, a woman with a truly pathological fear of needles, find myself desperately trying to console a near hysterical Irish nurse called Maureen.

‘Its okay.’ I say soothingly. ‘ Really. I had a riding accident when I was nine. My veins are tricky on that arm… ‘Here you go..’.
I slowly and without making direct eye, in case she bolts like a lunatic horse, lower my right arm to within range of her glinting needles, twitching in her shaking hands. .

‘Here you are Maureen..how about this arm. There you go…’ I proffer my remaining arm hoping my relaxed and expansive attitude will stop her hyperventilating.

20 minutes later I am forced to suggest I lie down to stop myself from passing out. Strangely I am still relatively calm.

‘OK..got all you need now?’ I ask kindly not looking at the bruising spreading up to my armpits. ‘Please stop apologising..please. Your weeping is shaking the examination table. ‘

Seriously the worst blood lett..I mean ‘taking’ I have had in many years. She even managed to put the sticky plaster on the wrong parts of both elbows.. I didn’t even get a sodding lollipop. At home I had to lie down for 45 mins until I could raise my arms above my head again. Thank goodness I don’t earn a wage as a shot putter.

It’s nothing serious. I am still trying to figure out why I am always so knackered and am sure it is not just that my eyesight makes things ‘soooo’ much harder. I mean for Gawds sake! Other people cope with much more then this…and only a few years ago I was bloody running my own charity in Zambia..so come on! I am hopeful for a strange and exotic Zambian parasite feeding on my guts… or a strange brain fever. How about consumption? That’s relatively romantic. But NOT bloody ‘ tired eye syndrome’.. Hell!

Anyway..on the very up side , I have had a call about a potential guide dog. It is all very coy. I get to meet her (she’s a black and tan Retriever/Labrador bitch) in a couple of weeks with a chaperon on hand (for the dog…not me) and then make a decision if I want to carry on to the three week immersion training in August.
She will have to like me too- after all she is worth a hell of a lot more then I. Guide dogs are specially bred for smarts and wit and start training at 6 weeks old. They start professional guiding at 2 years old and have to have the best food and vet treatment until and during their retirement five years later. I on the other hand was a rubbish toddler,..well lets not even mention potty training..bad student, fail every mathematical test I’ve taken and spell sideways..plus I have dodgy medical treatment and self medicate with gin and tonic. I don’t have a pension.

The dog is younger then me better looking and probably has more friends on her Facebook page. Bitch. Yes. Quite.

My first thought was, would you believe… ‘Is it going to impact on my love life?’
Oh stop bloody laughing. I did ONCE have one..a long time ago in a galaxy far far away. It is still possible, I’ve seen ‘How Stella Got he Groove Back.’ I’ve seen ‘Amalie’..more appropriately I’ve seen all the ‘Shrek’s’ and all the ‘Aliens’. However pitching up led by a Guide Dog..?
Relatives – especially those still gunning for grandchildren - say ‘Oh Tanvi, the right man will look PAST the dog.’
Yeah right.
Us ‘disableds’ (to coin a Zambian expression of note) know that that right man doesn’t exist. Many blokes (sorry..he/she or transgendered) are going to be put off by
1. a fear that others will see them as ‘lesser’ for going out with a ‘lesser’ person or even see it as a way of getting other women (men/ transgendered) by being seen as ‘compassionate’. (I’m not being daft here.. Sadly I talk from direct experience) ,
2. a fear that they might have to keep plucking the ‘disabled person’ from burning buildings, traffic accidents, exploding toilets blah blah.
3. or worse want to rescue us from our own cynical angst. Me? Cynical angst? C’est moi mojo n’est pas?
4. or ..and unfortunately (and yes I know I haven’t had much luck with blokes –) be rather too interested in the dog.
'Noir' (c) T. Bush (all other images from internet)

But strangely and out of the blue I still want to be open for the possibility. It’s partly the weather: concrete-cracking heat, humidity at 60% and storms like tiny, black smoke signals gathering on the horizon. Its also in part the fact that I have absolutely no idea what might happen next in my life. I am totally free falling. And i love the feeling and I bloody love storms! And that’s the problem. Stormy heat and a completely unreadable future does up my level of erotic greediness and that addictive and bizarre compulsion for romance. Call it the 'Year of Living Dangerously' syndrome.
Oh - the lovely 'Lemonade Award' from marvellous Val from Monkeys On the Roof.. I need to nominate ten blogs with attitude and gratitude.
Therefore the following blogs are officially nominated:
Tinku Tales
Velo Gubbed Legs
Siren Voices
Epicblogue
Fleeing Muses
Fush and Chips
123 I Love You
Up The Hill Backwards
The Gold Puppy
The Times Of Miranda
I want to wish my blogger friend The Gold Puppy much much love and strength. And she of Times Of Miranda much joy with the new baby.

6 comments:

Spence Kennedy said...

So ironic that you're the one being needled but having to console the nurse! AND you didn't score a treat! What you need is someone who twirls a needle with complete disregard for life or limb and chats about the latest horror their dog Lola has perpetrated on the bamboo that took years to finally take and just when it starts to thicken up....

btw, that dog in the pic reminded me of the boot sale we did once when a Japanese woman bought up all our little leather baby boots and cute little caps - for her dog.

Thanks for recommending my blog! I owe you! I'm sorry if I've been bad about commenting before. It takes me forever just to get a post up, let alone dodge about and see what else is going on. Wrong, I know. Bad boy.

Hope you feel better soon ;) x

tam said...

You are wonderful and hilarious. And why is there such perfect symmetry in the fact that a daughter of Dr Bush (itself the aptest most wonderful name) has a fear of needles? For the record, Mr Spence - that needle twirler is a force to be reckoned with. Oh and - Mr Spence's blog is amazing.
Thankyou for the nomination. I realise I must catch up on these. Oh glorious day, being an onty rocks!!

Chimera said...

Hi Spence,
I DEFINiTELY needed Lola stories as distraction. lordy..i am still bruised. I've met student vets with more skill. The Japanese lady story is scary..but then people and their pets. Guess you've seen it all!
And you do not owe me anything recommendation wise. You are incredibly talented and I (and I'm not the only one- see comment above as case in point) think your blog needs to be read by as wide an audience as possible. I am also guilty of not getting around to commentating on all the blogs I love. Time..there is just not enough of the stuff sometimes.
T x

Hi Tam - she of the New Aunt (Onty) Brigade! lovely to see you back and firing on all pistons! (is that right...sounds bit suspect...'pistons'...) Anyway - I have a sneaky suspicion dad is as anxious about needles as I am. he much prefers being on the plunger side!
More soon and really lookign forward to the photos!
T x

ignis fatuus said...

Dearest t
somebody else said this and it may be dubious - BUT- never mind what they can do for you - what can you do for them - or her - or it - or him - when they are just the most ordinary person who loves but doesnt understand you and arent/isnt a great lover, writer, or cook or socialiser and they just want to hold their head up as high as you do and be as independent and bright as you.
love u ma

Susan at Stony River said...

Oh you poor and your poor arms! I used to have such good easy veins that the hospitals would send their phlebotomy students over to practice on me---one of the woes of being a public patient. Needless to say (or needles to say ha ha) I don't have such good veins anymore. Now bloodgiving's miserable.

Good luck with the test results; I hope you're feeling better soon.

I met a wonderful man long ago because he had a guide dog who sat on my feet on the bus. Without her we never would have started talking but we had a lot in common and I loved his sense of humour more than anything (cute too, if too tall, but oh well). An assistant dog was suggested for our autistic kids because the dogs actually help socialising: people will approach a friendly dog before a human stranger apparently (go figure) so hopefully that applies to guide dogs too? Unfortunately we couldn't have the assistant dog because we already have a dog in our house. How unfair.

Good luck meeting your new 'friend'; I hope all goes well!

Suzie said...

Thanks for the award. Get the dog it will make life so much easier. I think 40 makes you tired its just a slippery slope to the grave now....but a dog will be great...Im off to find a rocking chair now