Early Summer....

Yesterday was daughter no.3's birthday. Whilst she spent the day happily playing with her new guitar accessories, dressed in her signature black outfit and drawing manga out in the garden, we spent a more reflective time wondering where the last twelve years have gone......

It seems like only yesterday that I was sitting in my hospital bed in the early dawn light gazing down on my newest baby, filled with awe and tremendous, tender love. I'd slept sporadically sinced she'd been born just after midnight, the early post-natal hours fortified by Mars bars, tea and Vivaldi's Gloria.

As the sun went slowly down last night we sat in the garden, warmed by the wood crackling in the cheminea, and toasted her health. Little glass lanterns twinkled amongst the vines on the pergola. "In another six years - less than half your life so far" said her Dad "- we'll be celebrating your eighteenth birthday, with the prospect of you leaving home for university, or college."

She reflectively chomped on her crisps "Whatever" she said.

Diagnosed! At Last!

I am happy to announce that I have reached a diagnosis for my condition - I am officially a cyberchondriac!!!

I've felt increasingly anxious that I actually had some sort of nasty medical condition: in fact that's been on my mind last thing at night as I've drifted off to sleep----unsurprisingly, I've been waking up sweaty and tachycardic (see! I even know the technical jargon!) with a dull ache that seems to be centred on the caecum (ha!). various unpleasant thoughts drift through my head, mostly to do with incurable conditions, not living to see the kids grow up etc. etc.

Ironically, it was whilst surfing the web to identify the cause of the latest symptom that I came across the Wikipedia article on hypochondriasis and - blow me - it described me to a tee!

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hypochondriasis

'....an excessive preoccupation or worry about having a serious illness' Check!

'....so afraid of any reminder of illness that they will avoid medical professionals for a seemingly minor problem' Check!

'....some others live in despair and depression, certain that they have a life-threatening disease and no physician can help them, considering the disease as a punishment for past misdeeds' Check!

'Common symptoms include headaches; abdominal, back, joint, rectal, or urinary pain; nausea; itching; diarrhea; dizziness; or balance problems.' Yep...had most of those!

Apparently, the internet has spawned its own version of hypochondria: cyberchondria, where the individual prone to such health fears trawls the web and becomes convinced that they have something awful, cancer and MS being favourite self-diagnoses. (Check!) However----

'Patients with hypochondriasis often are not aware that depression and anxiety produce their own physical symptoms that might be mistaken for signs of a serious medical disease..... Intense anxiety is associated with rapid heart beat, palpitations, sweating, muscle tension, stomach discomfort, and numbness or tingling in certain parts of the body (hands, forehead, etc.)' ...Errr...that's me....!

It's part of a continuum that runs from depression and what my husband terms Too Much Time To Think.

I guess I am at the latter end of this rather sad spectrum. Another clue as to my 'problem' is that 'it' (as predicted by the article and others related to the 'condition') 'improves' immensely with physical exercise (which, I suppose releases 'happy' hormones) and goes completely unnoticed if I am involved wholeheartedly in some project, meeting or converation. Only to return during the night, or when I find myself on my own. Sometimes, though, this obsession threatens to rob me of my day-to-day happiness, rendering me tetchy and self-absorbed.

Knowing what the problem is is an immense relief actually: I shall definitely make an extra effort to do something positive to relax...maybe renew my interest in the gym, which always makes me feel better after I've been.

My medical dictionary (another dead giveaway for a hypochondriac) rather amusingly compares the difference between hypochondria, malingering and hysteria:

'The malingerer may say he has a headache when he has none, in order to evade work or responsibility; the hysteric does something similar at an unconscious level and gets a real headache without physical cause; the hypochondriac spends a happy day trying new remedies for a headache that might come on.' Or, in my experience, feeling utterly wretched and convinced that death is imminent.

So it's all in the mind, then. But as the article notes: 'A simple suggestion of mental illness can often trigger one with hypochondria to obsess over the possibility.'

Dammit---I knew I was ill!!!

Simple Pleasures

1) The smell of ground coffee wafting out of a newly opened vacuum pack.

2) The sunlight shining diagonally through dewdrops on an immaculate lawn, making them sparkle.

3) A territorial male blackbird singing his heart out.

4) A square of chocolate melting slowly on the tongue.

5) Crisp clean sheets, line-dried in the spring breeze.

Simple pleasures that require little or no outlay and will be enjoyed into old age.

Venice in April

Our trip to Venice was even better than I expected: the weather forecast had changed from dubious to merely tolerable in the week before our departure, therefore the brilliant blue skies and 22 degree temperature that greeted us as we made our way from the airport to the waterbus terminal were a real bonus. Venice should only be approached from the sea, as befits its status an ancient maritime power. Sweeping around the lagoon before docking just in front of the piazzetta adjacent the Doge's Palace added to our mounting excitement. The hotel, secreted only a few hundred yards away from the bustle of San Marco, was as good as its internet promises, the room large and immaculately clean, with a view of San Giorgio Maggiore if we craned far enough out of our window. Determined to extract every last minute from the holiday we set off almost immediately to explore.

What a lovely city! By turns mesmerically busy and tranquilly quiet, magnificent and imposing or intimate and cosy. I had planned a couple of itineraries, but the joy of unhurried exploring on foot soon took over. We were constantly grateful that we'd invested in a good detailed map - it would have been difficult if not impossible without it to keep track of the winding calles, campielli and bridges. As in Rome, we chanced on the best discoveries, quiet neighbourhoods with sleepy ancient churches and inexpensive osterie and bacari.

Of course we did the obvious tourist things as well: San Marco in all its Byzantine splendour, the bustling Rialto and its early morning markets, climbing the campanile of San Giorgio for the stunning panoramas. But one of the most enjoyable things was just sitting back on the vaporetti and slowly meandering around the canals, zigzagging from stop to stop, hopping on and off by both day and by night.

The food was excellent, and although our budget did not stretch to too many local specialities, we managed to try a few including bigoli con salsa, osso buco and fegato alla veneziana with polenta, accompanied by vegetables that we fondly imagined had come from the erberia that morning.

Our time there was just too short and there's lots that we didn't manage to fit in - but at least we have an excuse for another visit.....!

The Easter Garden

Just to clarify a bit about the Easter Garden mentioned in yesterday's blog-post.

I seem to remember that such representations used to be called 'calvaries' although I can find no mention of that. Ours is basically just a terracotta plate - the sort you can buy in garden centres - with half a broken flowerpot affixed to it, which represents the tomb. Then it's covered in earth and a layer of moss. On Good Friday morning, three small wooden crosses (ours were originally made from lolly sticks) are stuck into the mossy mound and a small crown of thorns is hung over the central cross. In the evening, we place a stone across the entrance to the tomb. The tomb remains 'sealed' until very early on Easter Sunday, when I run downstairs and roll away the stone and replace the crown of thorns with white ribbons representing the burial cloths. If possible, I like to strew the moss with tiny blossoms and flowers. When the children were small they were intrigued to find the transformation that had taken place overnight. It didn't take too long before they realised - to their huge delight - that this annual event was regularly followed by an Easter egg hunt, which no doubt rated more highly in terms of excitement!

Easter

Despite my best efforts, I feel asleep very rapidly last night and this morning failed to wake up before day had well and truly dawned. Ah well!

Having visited the Aged Ones this morning and made a brief foray into town to exchange a faulty DVD, I spent a happy few hours making my usual 'Easter Garden'. I have long since stopped kidding myself that the children are even remotely interested in this, although they may be persuaded to grudgingly hang the miniature wooden eggs on the 'Easter Tree'. I am doing this by myself, for myself. I hope that, if nothing else, they may remember in the future 'what Mum used to do at Easter'.

This picture is one I made earlier - last year to be precise!

The Best-Laid Plans.....

Hey ho! School hols again!

In an attempt to offset the usual miserable decline in work output that generally happens during these times, I had decided to wake up at the crack of dawn to read a chapter on Douglas Moo's excellently detailed commentary on Paul's letter to the Romans and make some notes. My long-suffering husband is quite used to my bedside light going on at bizarre times and appears to be able to sleep on until his alarm goes off. Snuggling down last night, I decided to get a least an hour of 'work' in before the household awoke. Alas for the best-laid plans! When I did finally surface, there was already a cup of tea waiting for me and the dog was whining to be let out. Husband went downstairs and busied himself with getting ready for work, and I sat up and started reading, cursing my laziness. I'm tackling a particularly tricky part of the epistle at the moment, dealing with sin, death and the law. Every commentator and interpreter has his subtly different six penn'orth and the footnotes take up more of the page than Moo's text, so it is fiendishly difficult to keep a hold on the thread of the argument. Ideally, one needs a straight couple of hours to get into the swing of it before it starts to cohere, and today it just wasn't going to happen.

I impressed on the children last night that, with no school, they could have a bit of a lie-in - but it wasn't long before I was joined by the bright-eyed boy wondering what I had lined up for the day. Groaning inwardly, I put down my book and gave him a cuddle. We'd walked the dog and were entertaining daughter no.2 and the new baby before daughter no.3 flumped wearily downstairs and started painting her nails black. I suppose I could be doing some work now, but I'm a bit distracted and just not in the mood. The evening is also out of the question: if I try to tackle anything serious after the children go to bed, I just forget it immediately or fall asleep book in hand. My bedtime reading consists of inane mush at the moment. I shall try again tomorrow. Honest, I will!