Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow

Tonight's post is an apology (another one) framed, at least, by a theatrical title - specifically a quotation from what we thespian types superstitiously refer to as 'The Scottish Play'. Technically, the precaution is only necessary in an actual theatre building, but I never like to take chances.

Anyway, pretentious preamble over, the relevance of the quotation is that I'm going to have to postpone my promised post to tomorrow - again. The reason for that is pretty simple and boring. It's been another long and busy day, with an appointment followed by retraining some dear friends and helpers, and I'm tired. Since the arrival of my new chair, in my euphoria at the freedom it has restored, I've been packing as much as possible into my days - and I don't think I adequately prepared myself for the ordinary, non-disability-specific, exhaustion which would ensue. That's not to say I dislike it. On the contrary - it's such a novelty to be using my energy for interesting and enjoyable things, rather than just in an effort to stay upright, and it's one for which I shall be forever grateful. 

Whilst it has given me many things to write about, it has ironically also had the effect of stopping me from doing so, because my previous practice of blogging predominantly in the evening is no longer very viable. Basically, by the time I get there (here), I'm shattered. Consequently, if I want to write longer posts, it'll have to be done earlier, and that entails waiting for days on which I actually have free mornings. Like tomorrow. Once I get into the swing of queuing posts, I'm sure it'll be a lot easier to keep to my schedule, but until then all I have to offer you is yet another picture (in prose) of my hands upheld. Sorry - I hope that's okay.

A very bookish board game

Hello, and welcome to an extra Wednesday dose of Wordy and Wheely, as promised. Well, not quite as promised, because it's been another very long and busy day and I don't quite have the energy for the longer post I'd been hoping to write. Theatrical thinkings must wait until tomorrow (again!). Sorry! However, my plans to offer you something less wheely and rather more wordy have not been entirely scuppered, as this week also brought with it my very own copy of The Jane Game - the bookish board game of my title.

What is The Jane Game, you ask? A trivia game based on the works of my beloved Jane Austen. The premise is fairly simple - each player chooses a heroine to represent (out of seven, as Elinor and Marianne Dashwood both merit inclusion, of course). Then you navigate your way through Regency society, and gain grace, accomplishments, and maybe even a marriage proposal (or righteous independence) by answering questions about the books. Since you couldn't really get more up my street, I backed the Kickstarter last year, and it's just arrived. I'm so excited - aside from anything else, it looks beautiful:

Now I just need to get some of my fellow Janeites together to play - over tea or chocolate, naturally!

Racing stripes

A relatively short post this evening, as it's been a very long day. In recompense, however, I'm going to write an extra one tomorrow - I hope that's okay. (I've also recently been figuring out how to queue posts, in preparation for when I head off to camp, so in theory I'll be able to write entries in advance to be uploaded at certain times.)

Today's post, then, is a further ramble on my sitting position - the improvement of which is encapsulated in the top I was wearing. I'll add a photo from today if I can find one that's decent, otherwise I'll find another, once I'm not on the mobile version of Blogger. For now, though (and in the interest of anyone who might be using a screen-reader, since they aren't always great at translating images to speech), I'll describe it: it's machine-knitted, long-sleeved and decorated by a colourful, alternating pattern of horizontal stripes. It also happens to be the first item of clothing I bought independently, not just with my own money, but going into the shop and completing the entire purchase, with all the rigmarole of having a single hand with which both to drive and hold and then pay for it, on my own. I've had it since I was eleven, I love it, and it still fits. (The post on being skinny is for another day.)

The point of that added bit of history is that it felt a very apt choice of garment for today - especially when Mama made the comment that she did. She picked me up from a show at the National Theatre (about which I'll write properly tomorrow) and, whilst we navigated one of the smallest 'accessible' toilets I've ever encountered, said, 'Your stripes are exactly horizontal. When last do you remember your stripes being exactly horizontal?' This might seem both obtuse and insignificant, but she meant that she's so used to the stripes being slightly skew, because they naturally follow the line of my torso. The fact that she noticed their symmetry shows that I'm sitting more symmetrically - not all the time, but more frequently.

I'm beyond thrilled - because it means that I can feel more confident about wearing slightly more figure-hugging outfits. Not that I do so often - I love my hoodies and baggy trousers and haven't worn a dress since I was ten, by my own request - but it's nice to feel I have the option. Here's to racing ahead with recovery and reclaiming body image, eh?

Bringing Flexi Back

Did I just make a pun about my spine using a Justin Timberlake song lyric from 2006? Yes. Am I ashamed? No. Actually, I am a little, because a) the song is highly problematic in its culturally-appropriative and heteronormative discourses and b) it's nearly ten years old, which shows up the questionable music tastes of my much-less-politically-aware teenage self. With that as a caveat, then, I shall proceed with today's post - because it was too perfect a summation of the topic to ignore.

As will be obvious from the titles of my previous blogs (Walking by 2013 and 2015) my focus, for the greater part of the last few years, has been on my legs - or, more accurately, my limbs. The reason for that is twofold. Firstly, I was training to walk to collect my degree, and for walking, in the literal rather than colloquial sense of the word, one principally requires strong legs. Secondly, when my chair broke, it had such a detrimental effect on my core abdominal stability that I (somewhat ironically for a non-ambulant individual) didn't have much else to keep me upright other than those legs and arms.

Since I got my new chair, though, my stability is much improved. This means that I actually have the energy to work on my core again and to get the muscles back into the habit of supporting me. It also means I feel safe enough to move in a more flexible way. These are both hugely important if I want to maintain and extend the positive difference my consultant has observed in my spine. So, over the last few days, I've been incorporating exercises which have more emphasis on my upper body - from the mission of trying to reach my toes to (slightly less adventurous) diaphragmatic breathing, the latter in preparation for my first singing lesson in an absolute age at some point this week. 

Hopefully, if I keep up this regime, I've got a chance of bringing 'flexi' back - and maybe even the original JT lyric...who knows!?

Spinal countdown - #LovemyNHS

Today's post is a bit more detailed, and full of many emotions, but hopefully once you've read it its importance will be clear - both on a personal and a sociopolitical level. Bear with me!

This week, but especially last night and this morning, I have been a great big ball of nerves. Why? Well, today was my annual review appointment with my spinal consultant, and I was worried. Those of you who read Walking by 2015 might remember my joy, in May of last year, when he told me that my curve hadn't changed since our last check up in 2012. The thing is, May was only one month into life with a broken chair, and little did I know then how long I'd be left with it - or what an impact it would have on both my physical and mental health.

This time I was well aware of the beating my body has taken over the last fifteen months, so I was fully expecting the X-ray not only to be different but to have drastically deteriorated. Hence my anxiety - which led me to tweet banal and blackly humorous puns like 'Destressing before tomorrow's hospital appt by listening to The Kinks...because my spine has a few?' last night and to skip breakfast due to a swarm of particularly persistent butterflies in my stomach this morning. I was only slightly comforted by the appointment being at Guy's hospital (first established 1726), and the thought that I would be surrounded by reminders of my beloved era (though its original title, 'The Hospital for Incurables', might've served to remove the last vestiges of that comfort!). Ah, eighteenth-century bluntness! I suppose, at least, they didn't unnecessarily sugarcoat things. Bad news was given up front, like ripping off a plaster, not that they could do that then because Elastoplast hadn't been invented... These were the sort of over-analytical thoughts with which I attempted to console myself as we drove to Southwark, listening to thirteenth-century dance pieces on Radio 3 in the absence of any Baroque. Because that's how I roll.

Here is where we shift emotional gears, from jitters to joy. It turns out I needn't have been anxious - not only were there three lovely and understanding radiographers, and an X-ray chair which meant I could have it taken whilst sitting in a comfortable position, but the outcome was good. When I met with my consultant, the first thing he said was 'Wow, you're sitting better!', and, when we were examining the image, it seems that my spine has not just stayed the same but may actually even have improved! I'm rather thrilled by that, for obvious reasons, if slightly overwhelmed - I wasn't aware that it was possible for a curvature as severe as mine to get better (however marginally). I guess I'm  continuing to do what my paediatric orthopaedic consultant said I did, way back when I was twelve - bucking trends! (Or maybe I haven't given the Oxford cobbles due credit...!)

Mostly, though, I'm grateful. Super grateful. I don't have to have surgery, which is a huge relief, and it shows the benefits of a working chair, suitable seating and good postural management. If the difference in my seating position is noticeable just three weeks after I got my new chair, imagine the possibilities for further improvement before my appointment this time next year! It also underscores the value of a working and well-supported National Health Service, without which I and many of my friends would be unable to receive these regular checkups and continued care. For all my frustrations regarding the delays with my chair, I'm very conscious that they were largely a result of the increased workload (and decreased numbers) of staff with few other options thanks to copious cuts. I'm also extremely aware that the people I met at Guy's today (from the receptionist to the radiographers I mentioned above) are working under similarly difficult conditions - yet they went out of their way to be friendly, helpful and understanding. Jeremy Hunt should take note and give them, and their colleagues nationwide, the thanks and support they deserve. To use a metaphor appropriate to this piece, they have more backbone than he and the rest of this government put together. 

Which returns me to my spine. It's not perfect, but it's fine, and that's such a relief. I can sit up, and it seems my sitting up is making a difference, for the better. To celebrate, Mama and I went for a zoom along the South Bank, and I took the opportunity to indulge my thespian self by taking the photo below at the side of the National Theatre. The finger is publicity for the current production of Everyman, but its angle also shows just how well I'm sitting now! (Right, that's enough emotional rambling from me. Suffice to say that this spinal countdown is well and truly over. Huzzah!)

#IamEverywheely ;)

Eager wheeler

The keen bean that I am, I wrote 300 words of a preliminary paragraph for the first chapter of my PhD this morning, with the help of my wonderful friend (and willing typist), Cat. I'll post more about my thesis plans at another point, and shall chart the journey on this blog, but for now I just wanted to say how grateful I am (and how lovely it feels) to be upright and comfortable enough to concentrate properly on work - and to enjoy it!

(Although that's not hard when you're writing about your favourite pieces of theatre!)

Today's subject was the musical Wicked (which currently features another of my fabulous friends, Savannah) so, in the spirit of the show,

Thank Oz for friends and my new chair!

'Crazy dog lady!'

I wasn't planning on posting today, because three times a week seemed enough (having made previous and disastrous attempts at blogging daily), but then this happened and I thought you'd enjoy the video below. Now I have my new chair we've found a way for me to 'walk' both of the dogs myself at the same time:

Also, I can now ride comfortably on gravel! Bring on camp!