Gillian Polack's Blog, page 7
July 11, 2016
Teaching writers
I have some feedback on Saturday's teaching and it's given me a lot to chew on. I was using my own research and translating it to meet writers' needs. And it did. I have a letter that has some lovely, lovely praise from a student who not only 'got' what I did, but why precisely I was doing it. I m apparently "a gifted teacher, intense and demanding, inspiring and engaged" and have an incandescent intelligence. I said that some things would change post-operation, and this is one of them. And that's the good news.
The not-so-good news is that, no matter how intense I was and how much the students kept up (and they all did, 13 writers at various stages in their careers and with various stages of intellectual development, in a small room in mid-winter) I need to teach the subject at university-level. Ideally it would be a 3rd or 4th year subject (although a modified version, focussing on narrative choices and structure of story and genre markers, could be 1st or 2nd and I suspect I could develop a more advanced version for postgrads) and, ideally, take the whole year. It meets so many of the professional needs of writers from so many directions, even in the 6 hour version I gave on Saturday. These last few days, however, I've been assessing that 6 hour version and realising how much more students could get out of it with research exercises and writing exercises and class presentations. It could be one of those foundation courses that ground a student for life.
I've not had this feeling of "writers need this" to nearly the same extent with any of my other material. I've worked out courses for specific needs, but this one is for all long-form writing. It's about narrative and story and culture and how these things are part of us and require certain skills and how to develop those skills and make choices within the framework of one's own needs and capacity. I've translated some of my courses into university-suitable material because it's a fun exercise (I enjoy designing curricula) and because it's handy to do, to discover the limits and depths of a topic, but I've not been faced with something new and based on my own research that's so perfect for a broad-spectrum of writers.
I'm glad I could give my class on Saturday so much, but I really wish that there were somewhere that would let me give students the rest of it.
What this means is that I've finally sorted out what my teaching can mean and can do. I moved into the writing side of things rather than the history because I felt I could make a bigger difference there, but it wasn't until now that I could see so precisely what kind of a difference I could make.
I wonder what other parts of myself will re-emerge in the next few months. Could be interesting.
The not-so-good news is that, no matter how intense I was and how much the students kept up (and they all did, 13 writers at various stages in their careers and with various stages of intellectual development, in a small room in mid-winter) I need to teach the subject at university-level. Ideally it would be a 3rd or 4th year subject (although a modified version, focussing on narrative choices and structure of story and genre markers, could be 1st or 2nd and I suspect I could develop a more advanced version for postgrads) and, ideally, take the whole year. It meets so many of the professional needs of writers from so many directions, even in the 6 hour version I gave on Saturday. These last few days, however, I've been assessing that 6 hour version and realising how much more students could get out of it with research exercises and writing exercises and class presentations. It could be one of those foundation courses that ground a student for life.
I've not had this feeling of "writers need this" to nearly the same extent with any of my other material. I've worked out courses for specific needs, but this one is for all long-form writing. It's about narrative and story and culture and how these things are part of us and require certain skills and how to develop those skills and make choices within the framework of one's own needs and capacity. I've translated some of my courses into university-suitable material because it's a fun exercise (I enjoy designing curricula) and because it's handy to do, to discover the limits and depths of a topic, but I've not been faced with something new and based on my own research that's so perfect for a broad-spectrum of writers.
I'm glad I could give my class on Saturday so much, but I really wish that there were somewhere that would let me give students the rest of it.
What this means is that I've finally sorted out what my teaching can mean and can do. I moved into the writing side of things rather than the history because I felt I could make a bigger difference there, but it wasn't until now that I could see so precisely what kind of a difference I could make.
I wonder what other parts of myself will re-emerge in the next few months. Could be interesting.
July 10, 2016
Dreaming
Last night I slept and I slept and I slept some more. It was healing sleep. Each time I add to the amount of exercise I do or the amount of weight I carry, I sleep like this. Last night, however, my brain got fully back into gear while I slept. It was healing from an unexpected direction.
I don't talk about it often, but one of the reasons I'm so very effective at completing things and at problem-solving is because I'm a lucid dreamer and my dreaming self does a lot of the big work at sorting out plot holes or at planning projects. It's still heavy work, and I was very upset at a friend once who marvelled at how magically everything fell into place, but it means that I can (when my dreams get enthusiastic about a task) effectively work for 24 hours. I generally know when a dream is lucid, for it's in colour and, three times out of four, I can read text. Last night's text was world-building lists in a reassuring font.
Being aware of oneself asleep and being able to change what happens while asleep is not always good, to be honest. When I was near death in April and May, I and my dreams spiralled downwards into despair night after night. Vast dark wings fluttered just behind my vision and no amount of telling my dreams that this was not what I wanted could change that. I knew the moment I was safe from death, because my dreams told me. I went to the medical experts that day, for a regular appointment, and their body language informed me of the same thing. I was still hardly capable of moving, but my dreams knew how to interpret the difference between the day before and that magic day when I knew I'd be OK. I started making bad jokes at Naomi (who was taking care of me at that point), at the cat, and at the visiting nurse.
Last night, I did the opposite. Now that I'm emerging from a very interesting year, I can see that the world is going to get harder rather than easier. I've checked out the status of antisemitism (which definitely affects my chances of getting employed, for it lost me a whole career last time people were this bad) and looked at the state of various economies. In short, my conscious mind, last night, applied all that public service policy and political stuff from my past and came out with a "It's not impossible for me to get a job, because I have so much of theoretical interest to employers, but it's unlikely because I am middle aged, female and Jewish" ie other people are likely to still be given job preferences, whether it's for local university tutoring or whether it's for that fulltime job I so desire. The age and the religion are less of a problem in the UK, so I've more hope of one there. Since everyone in the university system is battling so much, I can't assume that I'll get any breaks. My dream admitted this, when I wasn't quite ready. My dream and I worked together from then on, and I woke up with a possible solution.
Quite a few friends have asked "What about Patreon?" (because I only need $200 more a week to have enough for food and utilities and the occasional cup of coffee with friends) but I've been stumped as to how to approach it. I was unable to address all the aspects of me that people follow in public. One potential patreon might want one thing from me and another, something entirely different. I needed a way of setting things up so that my supporters have choices and can determine whether they want stories, teaching, history, essays or recipes, but so that the things I want to achieve with my life and in terms of helping others are also achieved.
My dream last night gave me that. I can't do anything for a few more weeks, because immediate money has to take precedence, but I can gradually put together what I need and then... we'll see. I'd still rather have a proper university job, for I could do everything I enjoy as part of that job, but I do need enough to live on, whatever happens. This may well be how I get it.
I hated my lucid dreaming all the way through hospital. Twenty days of lucid nightmare. Ghosts roaming the corridors and me joining them. Paths that went back to doom no matter what happened. When solutions are outside me, my dreaming is a burden. Last night, however, for the first time since April, it was the opposite of a burden.
Why April and not March? Because I rang the ambulance thanks to a dream carefully explaining that if I needed help I should not rely on family precedent (my family doesn't ring for ambulances, no matter what), two nights before everything went awry. If I refuse to admit something, then my subconscious will inform me, very clearly, in my sleep.
When I was a child I kept telling my dreams "I want to fly" and so I flew. Now that I'm older, my dreams do a lot more than simply letting me fly.
I don't talk about it often, but one of the reasons I'm so very effective at completing things and at problem-solving is because I'm a lucid dreamer and my dreaming self does a lot of the big work at sorting out plot holes or at planning projects. It's still heavy work, and I was very upset at a friend once who marvelled at how magically everything fell into place, but it means that I can (when my dreams get enthusiastic about a task) effectively work for 24 hours. I generally know when a dream is lucid, for it's in colour and, three times out of four, I can read text. Last night's text was world-building lists in a reassuring font.
Being aware of oneself asleep and being able to change what happens while asleep is not always good, to be honest. When I was near death in April and May, I and my dreams spiralled downwards into despair night after night. Vast dark wings fluttered just behind my vision and no amount of telling my dreams that this was not what I wanted could change that. I knew the moment I was safe from death, because my dreams told me. I went to the medical experts that day, for a regular appointment, and their body language informed me of the same thing. I was still hardly capable of moving, but my dreams knew how to interpret the difference between the day before and that magic day when I knew I'd be OK. I started making bad jokes at Naomi (who was taking care of me at that point), at the cat, and at the visiting nurse.
Last night, I did the opposite. Now that I'm emerging from a very interesting year, I can see that the world is going to get harder rather than easier. I've checked out the status of antisemitism (which definitely affects my chances of getting employed, for it lost me a whole career last time people were this bad) and looked at the state of various economies. In short, my conscious mind, last night, applied all that public service policy and political stuff from my past and came out with a "It's not impossible for me to get a job, because I have so much of theoretical interest to employers, but it's unlikely because I am middle aged, female and Jewish" ie other people are likely to still be given job preferences, whether it's for local university tutoring or whether it's for that fulltime job I so desire. The age and the religion are less of a problem in the UK, so I've more hope of one there. Since everyone in the university system is battling so much, I can't assume that I'll get any breaks. My dream admitted this, when I wasn't quite ready. My dream and I worked together from then on, and I woke up with a possible solution.
Quite a few friends have asked "What about Patreon?" (because I only need $200 more a week to have enough for food and utilities and the occasional cup of coffee with friends) but I've been stumped as to how to approach it. I was unable to address all the aspects of me that people follow in public. One potential patreon might want one thing from me and another, something entirely different. I needed a way of setting things up so that my supporters have choices and can determine whether they want stories, teaching, history, essays or recipes, but so that the things I want to achieve with my life and in terms of helping others are also achieved.
My dream last night gave me that. I can't do anything for a few more weeks, because immediate money has to take precedence, but I can gradually put together what I need and then... we'll see. I'd still rather have a proper university job, for I could do everything I enjoy as part of that job, but I do need enough to live on, whatever happens. This may well be how I get it.
I hated my lucid dreaming all the way through hospital. Twenty days of lucid nightmare. Ghosts roaming the corridors and me joining them. Paths that went back to doom no matter what happened. When solutions are outside me, my dreaming is a burden. Last night, however, for the first time since April, it was the opposite of a burden.
Why April and not March? Because I rang the ambulance thanks to a dream carefully explaining that if I needed help I should not rely on family precedent (my family doesn't ring for ambulances, no matter what), two nights before everything went awry. If I refuse to admit something, then my subconscious will inform me, very clearly, in my sleep.
When I was a child I kept telling my dreams "I want to fly" and so I flew. Now that I'm older, my dreams do a lot more than simply letting me fly.
July 9, 2016
gillpolack @ 2016-07-10T13:07:00
Market day today and I carried my shopping myself for all but the last 30 metres. For $5, I bought 9 extremely ripe persimmons (and am at home to anyone who wants a cuppa and some persimmon today and tomorrow, for they do need eating), I bought a few oranges and a lemon and was given two of the blood orange/navel cross (because every now and again stall holders are lovely and generous and remember me as the food hsitory person who likes the things that aren't on show always - what this means is that I've definitively sorted my friends' tree as Seville/blood orange cross which explains a lot about their marmalade), 2 really big and crunchy fennel bulbs (for when I need crunchy snacks, obviously), 2 panninis (for the lemon and my nearly-ripe avoes from last week) and a goodly-sized bag of fresh lettuce.
I've got a few weeks before the new vegies and fruit are in for Spring, which give some time to train up to carrying more. And it's two weeks before I go to the bigger market, which gives me time to train for carrying things for longer distances.
Why this sudden change of capacity? As of today, my sternum is sufficiently healed. My bone is no longer broken. I can start getting strong again. I've been building my weight exercises carefully (and under supervision for the first 6 weeks) so that the moment the healing was done I could do things like marketing. It's rather wonderful that all this work paid such instant dividends. I can't carry a lot and I can't carry it further than a kilometre, but still, I carried it. With no aches or pains. And I have eaten a persimmon to celebrate, so there are only 8 in urgent need of being finished. It was spectacularly delicious. I don't think I've had one as good since my childhood.
I've got a few weeks before the new vegies and fruit are in for Spring, which give some time to train up to carrying more. And it's two weeks before I go to the bigger market, which gives me time to train for carrying things for longer distances.
Why this sudden change of capacity? As of today, my sternum is sufficiently healed. My bone is no longer broken. I can start getting strong again. I've been building my weight exercises carefully (and under supervision for the first 6 weeks) so that the moment the healing was done I could do things like marketing. It's rather wonderful that all this work paid such instant dividends. I can't carry a lot and I can't carry it further than a kilometre, but still, I carried it. With no aches or pains. And I have eaten a persimmon to celebrate, so there are only 8 in urgent need of being finished. It was spectacularly delicious. I don't think I've had one as good since my childhood.
July 8, 2016
gillpolack @ 2016-07-08T19:33:00
My new Aurealis article has been released. I wrote this after the operation. It's what convinced me that maybe I would be OK, after all. I was working, and felt very incompetent. I still do, far too much of the time, for serious illness is debilitation, and I'm someone who likes to do things. So it's an important article for me, and worth reading for I am possibly not as serious about literature as I should be. Also, there's a recipe, by popular request.
July 7, 2016
gillpolack @ 2016-07-08T10:51:00
Today I realised that somewhere along the recuperation way I've managed to regain some mojo. I have no idea when it happened, or how, but this morning I did my teaching notes and class handout with no apparent effort and I just need a break for a cuppa before I shall do more on my taxes. I've made cinnamon buns for afternoon tea (they just need to be baked) and stripped my bed. This is more energy (intellectual and other) than I had for months before the operation. Given that tomorrow includes teaching for six hours straight, I shall take rests in between everything today, but still, I'm improving.
It's one thing for the doctor to say I am - it's quite another to discover it for myself.
A week ago I wondered if I'd ever write fiction again. Now I'm thinking "Not long now." I have a sudden desire for people to buy many of my books, so that I have the money to write another one just as soon as I'm physically able. Add emotional healing to the physical and intellectual. It's slow, but it's all happening.
It's one thing for the doctor to say I am - it's quite another to discover it for myself.
A week ago I wondered if I'd ever write fiction again. Now I'm thinking "Not long now." I have a sudden desire for people to buy many of my books, so that I have the money to write another one just as soon as I'm physically able. Add emotional healing to the physical and intellectual. It's slow, but it's all happening.
gillpolack @ 2016-07-07T18:36:00
I just had a celebratory Haigh's chocolate.
What am I celebrating? My doctor doesn't want to see me for two months. I'm having blood tests in the interim, but they're to secure a post-operation baseline for me, not because anyone's worried about anything. I am recovering very nicely, it seems. Only one slight adjustment to my medication has been made. And we have a bit more evidence that my heart thingie is hereditary (not that it's been in doubt recently).
How else am I celebrating? By teaching a sold-out workshop at the Writers' Centre on Saturday. I will probably eat a reheated meal on Saturday night, for this is the most work I'll have done in a day since very early in April.
Things are improving. It feels very slow at my end, but apparently I'm doing very well indeed.
What am I celebrating? My doctor doesn't want to see me for two months. I'm having blood tests in the interim, but they're to secure a post-operation baseline for me, not because anyone's worried about anything. I am recovering very nicely, it seems. Only one slight adjustment to my medication has been made. And we have a bit more evidence that my heart thingie is hereditary (not that it's been in doubt recently).
How else am I celebrating? By teaching a sold-out workshop at the Writers' Centre on Saturday. I will probably eat a reheated meal on Saturday night, for this is the most work I'll have done in a day since very early in April.
Things are improving. It feels very slow at my end, but apparently I'm doing very well indeed.
July 5, 2016
gillpolack @ 2016-07-06T16:56:00
I've just emerged from a rather nice meeting with an artist. My Wednesday students have a small project. I drank chai and I chatted and I realised that I miss meetings. How can anyone miss meetings? I'm worried for myself.
Anyhow, I emerged from the meeting and discovered that the cool day has become the chill day. The rain has turned to cold that gets under the skin. The moment I got home, I changed into PJs and put on my felt slippers and my down dressing gown. In five minutes I'll be warm as toast and be able to do all my work. I will do my exercises first, though, and have a rest, for 'Virtue' is my temporary middle name.
By 'all my work' I mean two full hours. Today I'm deadline central, but I've cunningly managed my deadlines so that I'm not going to make myself ill over them. And I can work as late as I like, for tomorrow I can sleep in if I want. Hence the exercise first (and halfway through) and rest.
My aim tomorrow is to do many messages and see the doctor. I only have two hours work over the whole day, tomorrow. This recovery thing is the life of luxury... down dressing gowns, chai-fuelled meetings, and no overwork.
Anyhow, I emerged from the meeting and discovered that the cool day has become the chill day. The rain has turned to cold that gets under the skin. The moment I got home, I changed into PJs and put on my felt slippers and my down dressing gown. In five minutes I'll be warm as toast and be able to do all my work. I will do my exercises first, though, and have a rest, for 'Virtue' is my temporary middle name.
By 'all my work' I mean two full hours. Today I'm deadline central, but I've cunningly managed my deadlines so that I'm not going to make myself ill over them. And I can work as late as I like, for tomorrow I can sleep in if I want. Hence the exercise first (and halfway through) and rest.
My aim tomorrow is to do many messages and see the doctor. I only have two hours work over the whole day, tomorrow. This recovery thing is the life of luxury... down dressing gowns, chai-fuelled meetings, and no overwork.
July 4, 2016
gillpolack @ 2016-07-05T12:26:00
Sleep is such a wonderful thing. My pain levels are down significantly since yesterday and the day before, simply because I stayed in bed much longer and slept them away.
And instantly the pain is less, the world becomes a better place. I got my copy of postMedieval in the mail just now and have started reading it. My analysis of how I developed language for Langue[dot]doc doesn't look too embarrassing. Also, I have two invites to give talks. One is rather special - it's a conference that's twelve months away and it's talks and workshops. The other is local and should be a lot of fun. It's so much easier to look forward to things since the operation: it's no longer a burden to do them.
And, for all those of you waiting for the missing novel, my publisher is currently looking into the new release date for Wizardry. They're no longer being reconstructed! I'll get back to you as soon as I know.
And instantly the pain is less, the world becomes a better place. I got my copy of postMedieval in the mail just now and have started reading it. My analysis of how I developed language for Langue[dot]doc doesn't look too embarrassing. Also, I have two invites to give talks. One is rather special - it's a conference that's twelve months away and it's talks and workshops. The other is local and should be a lot of fun. It's so much easier to look forward to things since the operation: it's no longer a burden to do them.
And, for all those of you waiting for the missing novel, my publisher is currently looking into the new release date for Wizardry. They're no longer being reconstructed! I'll get back to you as soon as I know.
gillpolack @ 2016-07-04T18:29:00
I have had my first person since the operation (my first cousin in fact) pushing me to lose weight to reach the ideal rather than the safe. She asked me "What's the worst that could happen?" I'm afraid I replied "I could be dead."
I knew the social pressure to lose weight would appear, but I didn't expect it do soon, nor did I expect it the week after it was noted that I am 12-13 kilos lighter than when I was in hospital (7-8 kilos lighter than before I entered hospital). The cheerful and helpful advice makes me totally certain I'll not join the weight-losing "do this above all" bandwagon.
I am doing 90 minutes exercise a day and healing my heart as quickly as I can. I am eating according to guidelines. I have metabolic disorder. And then I'm told it's my decision, but it's a really bad one and I am merely making excuses for not targeting a lower weight than my body can actually tolerate. Not my bandwagon. Not any more.
I get my next major medical check later in the week. The weight targets were a very small part of the advice to me from the person responsible for the next stage on my rehab. They're guidelines only and have still to be ratified or struck down by my doctor. My actual weight target the doctor has already approved , that is, we're all on the same page for the ideal goal for the next six months. It's the long term goal that my doctor hasn't seen. I suspect she won't approve of it, for she can see my body shape and knows what I'm coming from and going to. The reason losing weight is now one of the major goals (even though I'm in the safe range for me, personally) is that the more important goals have already been achieved. There are no really ick side effects from the medication that we can tell. My blood pressure is about there. The bad cholesterol has already reached its ideal. I'm heading for good health apace.
I've had advice from all and sundry about blood pressure and cholesterol already: it's the advice about the weight that has the emotional component, for some of my overweight was a by-product of the heart and, as you know, when my previous cardiologist focussed on my weight last year he didn't think to check my arteries. So there's a big emotional component when someone pushes me on my weight and tells me the problem is in my perception.
The reason I'm being open about this is because I've noticed it happens to many women and to some men. And so you get a bit of rant from me instead of the really interesting post I'd planned about what's happening in my work life. I have articles coming out and chapters coming out. And I have enough money to live on and am meeting all my deadlines despite not healing as quickly as I want to heal and being browned off by my lack of progress this week. And I'm seeing bunches of friends now that I have a bit more energy. Life is pretty good, when I look past the everyday pain. The everyday pain and fatigue is still too high, but it's slowly coming down.
I knew the social pressure to lose weight would appear, but I didn't expect it do soon, nor did I expect it the week after it was noted that I am 12-13 kilos lighter than when I was in hospital (7-8 kilos lighter than before I entered hospital). The cheerful and helpful advice makes me totally certain I'll not join the weight-losing "do this above all" bandwagon.
I am doing 90 minutes exercise a day and healing my heart as quickly as I can. I am eating according to guidelines. I have metabolic disorder. And then I'm told it's my decision, but it's a really bad one and I am merely making excuses for not targeting a lower weight than my body can actually tolerate. Not my bandwagon. Not any more.
I get my next major medical check later in the week. The weight targets were a very small part of the advice to me from the person responsible for the next stage on my rehab. They're guidelines only and have still to be ratified or struck down by my doctor. My actual weight target the doctor has already approved , that is, we're all on the same page for the ideal goal for the next six months. It's the long term goal that my doctor hasn't seen. I suspect she won't approve of it, for she can see my body shape and knows what I'm coming from and going to. The reason losing weight is now one of the major goals (even though I'm in the safe range for me, personally) is that the more important goals have already been achieved. There are no really ick side effects from the medication that we can tell. My blood pressure is about there. The bad cholesterol has already reached its ideal. I'm heading for good health apace.
I've had advice from all and sundry about blood pressure and cholesterol already: it's the advice about the weight that has the emotional component, for some of my overweight was a by-product of the heart and, as you know, when my previous cardiologist focussed on my weight last year he didn't think to check my arteries. So there's a big emotional component when someone pushes me on my weight and tells me the problem is in my perception.
The reason I'm being open about this is because I've noticed it happens to many women and to some men. And so you get a bit of rant from me instead of the really interesting post I'd planned about what's happening in my work life. I have articles coming out and chapters coming out. And I have enough money to live on and am meeting all my deadlines despite not healing as quickly as I want to heal and being browned off by my lack of progress this week. And I'm seeing bunches of friends now that I have a bit more energy. Life is pretty good, when I look past the everyday pain. The everyday pain and fatigue is still too high, but it's slowly coming down.
June 27, 2016
gillpolack @ 2016-06-28T11:12:00
I have one chunky deadline today and one smaller one tomorrow and then I get to start on something a bit more substantive that will take me a whole week. By this you can see that I have a lot more energy. It's still hard to work (and I still went back a month too early) but it's no longer weeping-hard. All I need is the discipline and to make sure I do both my stretches and my resting around it. My carrot this week is that I have to see the doctor later in the week and if I look good and feel not-too-bad the visit will be easier. Also, since I will have a 1-3 hour wait to see said doctor, it will be physically easier if I don't push things (I saved the money for an appointment, so's I wouldn't have to wait, but a friend spent half of it by mistake and I thereupon lost my commonsense and the other half is going into gourmet kitkats).
Yesterday I began my new walking program. What was wonderful about it was getting to chat during the walk. I'm learning more about my state and what I should be doing.
Things are still quiet here. One of the things I talked about yesterday was whether the turning recovery from something like this into a full time job makes a difference. It does. It very obviously does. The people who have built up their strength gradually and done all the right things are far less likely to end back in hospital early and are even less likely to die unexpectedly because things didn't quite go right. Getting better is a full time job then, for a bit.
I also learned the history of the amazing cardio-gym program I went to. Apparently one of the cardio doctors at the hospital was worried because people like me left Ward 6B after their operation and everyone just expected them to get well. He delegated two nurses to set up an exercise program, which they did on top of their usual work. At its most funded, it was an eight week program, which would have been much better than the six weeks we have now, because we stopped just a little too soon. From two nurses it grew to a team of nurses and exercise physiologists. It trains students (we had a University of Sydney student while I was there) and it just trained the first Fijian nurse, so that Fijian heart patients also get the program.
What I'm doing now is taking the exercises I can do at home (I was given special coaching in them and a list) and starting to combine it with my stretches and with the exercises I did until the body ceased to permit exercises. It and walking (and hopefully dancing, when I have money) will give me a rounded program. Not as good as a gym, for no way of advancing to the heights, but enough to keep the body slowly improving. There are two really cool aspects of it. The first is that it fits into my very sedentary working pattern: we've sorted it so that I can use it to give me solid breaks from the keyboard without stopping me from doing a solid day's work. The second is that it's preventing my RSI symptoms from returning.
My big news is that I had one whole day pain free this week. Well, most of one day. More pain free time than I've had in years. I used that time and slept, which is why I haven't met all my deadlines quite yet. The sleep helped so very much that I can now actually lie on my side for a little, which is rather wonderful. Sleep can be so very healing!
And that's me up to date.
Yesterday I began my new walking program. What was wonderful about it was getting to chat during the walk. I'm learning more about my state and what I should be doing.
Things are still quiet here. One of the things I talked about yesterday was whether the turning recovery from something like this into a full time job makes a difference. It does. It very obviously does. The people who have built up their strength gradually and done all the right things are far less likely to end back in hospital early and are even less likely to die unexpectedly because things didn't quite go right. Getting better is a full time job then, for a bit.
I also learned the history of the amazing cardio-gym program I went to. Apparently one of the cardio doctors at the hospital was worried because people like me left Ward 6B after their operation and everyone just expected them to get well. He delegated two nurses to set up an exercise program, which they did on top of their usual work. At its most funded, it was an eight week program, which would have been much better than the six weeks we have now, because we stopped just a little too soon. From two nurses it grew to a team of nurses and exercise physiologists. It trains students (we had a University of Sydney student while I was there) and it just trained the first Fijian nurse, so that Fijian heart patients also get the program.
What I'm doing now is taking the exercises I can do at home (I was given special coaching in them and a list) and starting to combine it with my stretches and with the exercises I did until the body ceased to permit exercises. It and walking (and hopefully dancing, when I have money) will give me a rounded program. Not as good as a gym, for no way of advancing to the heights, but enough to keep the body slowly improving. There are two really cool aspects of it. The first is that it fits into my very sedentary working pattern: we've sorted it so that I can use it to give me solid breaks from the keyboard without stopping me from doing a solid day's work. The second is that it's preventing my RSI symptoms from returning.
My big news is that I had one whole day pain free this week. Well, most of one day. More pain free time than I've had in years. I used that time and slept, which is why I haven't met all my deadlines quite yet. The sleep helped so very much that I can now actually lie on my side for a little, which is rather wonderful. Sleep can be so very healing!
And that's me up to date.
