Thursday, 18 February 2010

A Hazy Shade of Winter

17 weeks and 4 days...

I interrupt my recollection of recent encounters with ghosts from the UC past to ask this question: do you often have a 'perfect' moment?

Listen to this music as you read on.


UC steals all our joyous moments. Each elated high is immediately stolen by a crashing return to 'normality'. I say crashing. Perhaps I should say splashing. It's such a relentless, miserable, tiring fucking disease. Eventually, for me anyway, the only highs in life were the days when the UC relented, and I couldn't enjoy those because all I thought about was when it was going to kick back in. Which leaves, just about, nothing. A cold, lonely life of bitterness and worry. Trapped in a grainy black and white tunnel whilst a world of colour whirls around you unnoticed, unappreciated.

Now I know this is about mindset, and not just disease. Right now, I am smelling every bloody rose. But I'm also learning. And what I'm learning is this: whatever happens in the future, whatever the next UC challenge brings, it cannot take away what I've got...

So, my perfect moment? I was thrice blessed. It is half term (one week off school). Lovely-wife is working, but Grandparents are in town and they had taken Boy2 off my hands (Boy1 is master of his own destiny (well, in terms of daytime activity anyway)). The sun came out. A beautiful winter sun. So, I was sitting in the house reading (Oh God! The Quiet!), when I thought: "don't just sit rich, DO..."

Took my book and my ipod and walked along Hove seafront. Sat in a cafe. Enjoyed a latte. And a medicinal cigarette (cigarettes, my last, only vice... thanks researchers linking nicotine to suppression of UC). Read book. Listened to seagulls and chatter. Upon my walk home the 'moment' struck...

My book tucked under my arm, the ipod was back in. I strolled gently westward along the promenade when Barber's Adagio delicately eased into my ears. What a beautiful piece of music. The sun hung low, glinting on the sea, a hazy light batheing the ground. The sky was immaculately blue, cut dramatically by the creamy Georgian seafront granduer. People seemed to swim toward me. Seagulls arced with balletic grace. An germ of emotion grew in my guts. So pleasureable to feel positivity from below. My head filled with thoughts of my family. I could not stop smiling. And Barber's strings swelled in my ears...


The winter sun on Hove beach - as close to capturing the moment as a crappy mobile phone camera will allow...

7 comments:

Candice C said...

Ahh Rich, that would be a dream come true for me..the walk, music, beach and oh the cigarette ...Lucky you. Great post!

Whittles Wobble said...

The music was a great touch...

Rich said...

Hey Whittles, it's a beautiful piece of music...

Hi Candice - yeah the cigarettes... my first consultant told me there was a link between controlling UC and nicotine and then suggested that "although smoking can and quite probably lead to heart and lung disease... don't give up yet". Plenty of research out there backs this up. that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it. Anyway, I gave up the booze - man's gotta have a vice, eh? Mind you, i have managed to keep my habit to a scary minimum: I smoke less than one ciggy a day, and in fact have only had 6 since the new year!

Charlie said...

That's awesome, man! Great moment! I had no idea about the link between nicotine and UC! Crazy! Not a smoker myself, but anything that suppresses UC symtpoms is encouraging. Now I'm off to find some mroe info on the nicotine-ulcerative colitis link! Great post!

Paula said...

excellent post:D ... and even though I 'd love a ciggie, I can't bring myself to start that habit again ... it took way too many attempts to break that habit last time:(

Rich said...

Hello Paula - I'm really lucky to be able to keep the smoking to an absolute minimum, don't ask me how! Anyway, there's no chance I'm giving them up: no booze AND no cigs? No way...

Arkayeff said...

Isn't it strange that a thing that can make your life so miserable can also make the good moments really count. I nearly bled to death in my bed last year due to UC. When I got out of hospital the grey litter strewn pavements of Nottingham had never seemed so beautiful.

May you live to be 100

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