I have many good memories associated with grass ( I am of course referring to the 'turf' not the soft drug!)
… but THIS year I seem to have developed an allergy to grass pollen, which this season has been tardy in flowering and is now belatedly showering the air with its microparticles...which are in turn blocking my bellows.
There is nothing like an asthma attack to put all other worries into perspective: suddenly my concerns about my chubby thighs, British politics, and why I am not a better artist, fade into the background, as every cell in my body focuses on the simple in- and- out of each breath.
I am lucky: I have medication, doctors, and paramedics on the end of a telephone. Past asthmatics like Vivaldi, Proust and Charles Dickens had no inhalers, and their condition was completely misunderstood. Proust for example continued to live with the very trees that were tightening his chest, just outside his window, and was prescribed Champagne as a treatment! ( I have not tried this myself, but, I am guessing this was a 'keep the patient drunk,' scenario.)
What you only discover about managing chronic health when you have to, is that those same conditions rarely stay as they are. When you least expect it, one or more can flare-up, or something acute and unexpected might spring at you. At such times I try to remind myself that as I have so much experience with illness, my resilience muscles have become strong...even as my actual muscles have got weaker. Spoonies as a bunch, are stronger than we think.
There are also the unexpected spurt of tears that stay strangely silent during the worst of moments.. and will then emerge during the watching of an advert, or reading a corny meme. The cheesy, romantic comedy that leaves you in bits...even though you have seen it many times before...the sight of next-door's cat doing something funny, that can push you into the self-knowledge that, actually: "I'm not alright.. " and a hailstorm of tears.
For our own sanity we have to keep finding the tiny joys, the moments of light, the unlooked-for laughs amongst all the chaos...and for me that means colour and creativity, which I look forward to sharing with you in forthcoming posts.
Hazy days as a student sketching on a grassy knoll, bitching as the fashion students emerged into the sunshine,(each wearing ever more outrageous costumes, or shaved-head- adornments). Throwing a blanket over the washing line when I was a kid, and my brother and I, 'camping' outside, 'til it was time to head indoors for fish fingers and chips. Admiring landscape paintings, and watching old Italian men playing bowls in the sunshine...And walks...many, many walks in this country, and others, watching sheep chewing away, and cows pooping away....
Yes...I have always liked grass...
… but THIS year I seem to have developed an allergy to grass pollen, which this season has been tardy in flowering and is now belatedly showering the air with its microparticles...which are in turn blocking my bellows.
There is nothing like an asthma attack to put all other worries into perspective: suddenly my concerns about my chubby thighs, British politics, and why I am not a better artist, fade into the background, as every cell in my body focuses on the simple in- and- out of each breath.
I am lucky: I have medication, doctors, and paramedics on the end of a telephone. Past asthmatics like Vivaldi, Proust and Charles Dickens had no inhalers, and their condition was completely misunderstood. Proust for example continued to live with the very trees that were tightening his chest, just outside his window, and was prescribed Champagne as a treatment! ( I have not tried this myself, but, I am guessing this was a 'keep the patient drunk,' scenario.)
 |
| A random photo that always makes me laugh. |
What you only discover about managing chronic health when you have to, is that those same conditions rarely stay as they are. When you least expect it, one or more can flare-up, or something acute and unexpected might spring at you. At such times I try to remind myself that as I have so much experience with illness, my resilience muscles have become strong...even as my actual muscles have got weaker. Spoonies as a bunch, are stronger than we think.
There are also the unexpected spurt of tears that stay strangely silent during the worst of moments.. and will then emerge during the watching of an advert, or reading a corny meme. The cheesy, romantic comedy that leaves you in bits...even though you have seen it many times before...the sight of next-door's cat doing something funny, that can push you into the self-knowledge that, actually: "I'm not alright.. " and a hailstorm of tears.
For our own sanity we have to keep finding the tiny joys, the moments of light, the unlooked-for laughs amongst all the chaos...and for me that means colour and creativity, which I look forward to sharing with you in forthcoming posts.
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