Dìthreabhachd 220319

Actually not really a busy day, yet quite a few achievements: Backed up hard drive's Docs folder (after almost 3 months rather than my usual 1). Shaved my bottom lip & my moustache's overgrowth (after weeks). Finished clearing Anki's English deck backlog (took about a fortnight). Got another food delivery, including: ice cream (had one during unpacking), Strongbow cider (for 6/4), leek (bought 1st time in my life), [unpeeled] tatties (ditto), cream for bedsores, ... in fact gave the guy a 10% tip and don't regret it. Ay, all in all a successful day.

Dìthreabhachd 220316

Another busy, busy day: unplanned visit by Black with more info (also leading to my getting some PEG food again, high time too, the tube was getting blocked), planned visit by sister to bring me my washed laundry and prepare more food for me (also leading to a long talk about my attitude towards my parents - as usual, it being in speech rather than in writing, I probably didn't put my thoughts across very precisely), an email from Rob deserving a reply, and of course other tasks (leaving little time for eating & drinking).

[Added the next day: In the end I only went to sleep at 2am - which was good, because just before that I had a smoke on the balcony and heard, probably after some years, the morning chorus again.]

Dìthreabhachd 220314

Another hard day, although not as hard as I'd been afeared. Black (who also restarted my disability pension application) and my sister met at my place for the first time, and we were all met for the first time by a doctor and a nurse (both female) from a palliative care team. Basically they were mostly just learning about me, and the three of us about what can be provided by them and what by others. Doesn't seem all that hopeless, even for later when I'm terminally bedridden. For the time being the main task is eating more - something I've known for months I should be doing; now my sister tries to help me to actually accomplish it.

Dìthreabhachd 220312

Tried to eat some salami - partly wanted to feel in my mouth some tougher consistency than biscuits &c again after several days, partly reasoning red meat might be good for my erythrocytes. Not a success: the sensation was pleasant indeed, but after just three of those thin factory-pre-cut slices I threw it up again. Well, at least I've tried, which is more than I manage on most of these days, at least food-wise.

Dìthreabhachd 220311

Abair latha ... Black began mailing and requesting timeous replies as early as half ten in the morning (when I'm usually still fully or at least half asleep) and kept doing so; there were other mails too; in addition my sister unexpectedly phoned me in the afternoon ... little wonder I had hardly any time or energy left for drinking, eating or laptop in the meantime, mostly just resting in a recumbent position instead. But it seems things are at last moving somewhere, on more fronts than one.

Dìthreabhachd 220308

Toiseach na dàrna seachdaine, and it doesn't feel like I've made any progress. I've surely been trying, but not achieving. True, I'm spending more time on laptop, but still not near enough; much more importantly, for all my attempts and intentions my liquid intake has scarcely risen, I probably spend as much time just lying as I had before, and likely I eat even less. So my hypotension and general feebleness remain unabated and permanent.

Dìthreabhachd 220304

Insomnia all through the night; at 6am finally gave in and started preparation for the latest brilliant idea to help my psychosomatic state: using laptop in bed. I'd always considered this rather decadent, but given that for all practical purposes I'm a disabled person now, it seems justifiable. (Later eventually dozed off and after actually began using the laptop again (not mailboxes yet tho)).

Dìthreabhachd 220303

My sister's birtday so still taking it easy: didn't want to risk her needing, instead of celebrating, to have to take care of me if I finally collapsed. Also, a third day in a row with basically no laptop - had tried on Monday but the moment I sat down to the desk and looked at the screen I got such vertigo I needed to immediately return to bed. (These recent 'posts' are handwritten in a paper notebook, to be transcribed into this blog later.) Still, did a wee bit of tidying up.

Dìthreabhachd 220301

Coincidentally Là Naomh Daibhidh agus Pancake Day, but terrible: hypotension so bad I could hardly stand up for a few secs without feeling I was about to faint. (Basically no laptop and minimum food intake as well.) Suspect it's 1) too much time in recumbent position and 2) permanent dehydration, so resolved to make rehydration & drinking enough for the time being the utmost priority.

Toenails

After about two months, maybe even more, I've finally managed today to wash my feet and cut my toenails. Doesn't look like a big deal, but in a sense it is; the mere fact that I've finally forced myself to try is encouraging: maybe there's still hope I'll gradually become able to manage again some more difficult tasks as well.

42 cilo

Rè nan ceithir sheachdainean bhon tadhal mu dheireadh agam san ospadal, bha fhios agam nach robh mi ag ithe gu leòr. Ach bha dùil agam gun robh mi a' cumail nan 46 cilo a bha agam aig an àm. Cha robh.

Dar an deach mi ann a-rithist an-dè, cha robh ach 42 chilo agam. Eagalach gu dearbh. (Cuideachd, thathar ag ràdh gur e 42 am freagairt airson a h-uile rud ...) Mar sin, a thuilleadh air an stad a chuir sin air a' cheimeo-theiripe, chuir mi romham gum b' fheudar dhomh ithe fada nas motha. Agus ithe pròtainean, beòthamanan agus mar sin sìos, seach dìreach gualuisgeachan.

Tha fhios gu bheil seo a' ciallachadh àm nas lugha airson leughaidh agus a bhith nam shuidhe aig a' choimpiutair-uchd, ga chur seachad ag ithe an àite sin, ach tha sin do-sheachnadh. So an-diugh, air 'St Mungo's Eve', thòisich mi air. Chan eil e furasta, bha eadhon pian ann (gu follaiseach, tha mo stamac fìor bheag an-dràsta), ach feumaidh mi cumail orm. Chan eil dòigh eile ann ma tha mi ag iarraidh maireann beò.

 

Back to chess

My grandfather taught me the rules before I was eight; soon after that I began attending the local youth chess club and remained its member till the end of my high school days (by then I was also a member of the adult club). I enjoyed it, although in restrospect I can see I wasn't all that interested in the game itself as in the feeling of belonging to some community, encouraged by the weekly meetings and various tournaments.

After high school I moved town and never had the guts to become a member of any club again; but I'd play, now and then, in pubs as long as I was frequenting them. Meanwhile during my college days a friend introduced me to the game of go, and I began to prefer that one, although I never had nearly as much chance to play it as I did with chess.

Thus when I got online I didn't look for a chess server but for a go one; and I played, if extremely rarely, until quite recently, when I finally accepted what deep down I'd known for ages: fascinating as I find the game, it's not for me. You can't draw there, you must strive to win, otherwise you lose, and that goes against the grain: I was always more concerned about not losing than about winning. So a few weeks ago I found a chess server and began playing the old game once again on a more or less regular basis.

So far it satisfies me, even though it obviously lacks the excitement of those tournaments of long ago, and the tactile pleasure of moving wooden pieces around the chessboard rather than clicking a mouse button.

Mo chuid Ghàidhlig '21

Tron aon mhìos deug den bhliadhna, cha mhòr nach robh mi an sàs sa Ghàidhlig idir. Leugh mi leabhar gu leth, agus uaireannan naidheachd no dhà leis a' BhBC; fìrinn innse, chanainn gun do dhìochuimhnich (no leth-dhìochuimhnich) mi barrachd faclan seana air na dh'ionnsaich mi de fhaclan ùra.

Ach tron Dùbhlachd bha mi gu math dìcheallach a-rithist. Leugh mi leabhar eile; thòisich mi air faclan a dh'ionnsachadh mar bu chòir aon uair eile; bhithinn ag èisteachd ri Radio nan Gàidheal, a' blogachadh gu cunbhalach; rinn mi eadhon grunnan dheasachaidhean beaga san Uicipeid. Agus tha mi a' faireachdainn mar a tha mo chuid Ghàidhlig, a bha a' sìor thuiteam bhuaithe, a' tighinn am feabhas às ùr. Mar a tha am briathrachas agus an gràmar leth-dhìochuimhnte a' tilleadh dhomh.

Agus tha mi ga mhealadh. Mar sin, tha mi 'n dòchas nach bi e ro dhoirbh a' cumail orm mar seo ann an 2022 mar an ceudna.

Nederlands III

Today I've finally removed Dutch from my Duolingo courses. It's a beautiful language and I retain my soft spot for the Dutch, but one can only do so much, and given how little time I'm told I've left I could hardly hope to get to a level that would justify the amount of time spent learning it. In fact I consider discontinuing my Swedish studies too. (Nevertheless, crazy as always, I've recently recommenced Norwegian.)

Reading printed books again

When one door closes, another one opens.

For several years I was reading virtually solely Kindle e-books, possessing less than four prints. Moving flat as often as I had to during my life, it made sense to have as few as possible to move each time I did. However, when I moved, at the beginning of summer, to a flat owned by my sister and her husband, the sitution changed: I could suddenly expect not to have to flit again any time soon, if ever. So I resolved to and actually began anew buying printed books.

Kindle has its advantages of course, but for an old fogey like me, when all is said and done, it's just an inadequate substitute. The bliss of holding in my hands and enjoying 'real' books once more!

Unfortunatelly, I soon discovered that post-Brexit Amazon deliveries into the EU are unreliable (more than once I had an order stuck for a month on the French border, only to be then without any explanation returned back to Amazon), and getting them by post makes the delivery rather costly. I also realised that my sick pay would soon come to an end and I would be dependent on a (much lower) disability pension. So I stopped buying more.

And then my sister mentioned that she still had some books I had stored at hers years ago before one of my moves and quite forgotten about. She then sent me photos of that part of her bookcase with books in English, and I saw there several I mean to deprive her of, or at least borrow for some time. She already brought me the first two I chose.

Looks like I'll be able to enjoy reading prints for at least several more months to come.

Calum Cille aig 1,500 bliadhna

An-dè, theab mi gun a mhothachadh gum b' e 1,500 bliadhna bhon rugadh Calum Cille. Dh'fhàg sin beagan brònach mi.

O, chan ann gur e Crìostaidh a tha annam. Ach b' e samhla eile den astar a dh'fhàs eadar mise is saoghal na Gàidhlig. Saoghal anns an robh ùidh cho mhòr agam grunn bhliadhnaichean air ais, saoghal air a bhiodh mi a' gabhail beachd cho dian - agus a' faighinn tlachd cho mòr bho sin. O chionn ghoirid, cha mhòr nach robh naidheachdan BhBC an aon cheangal agam ris.

Ach mar a tha mi a-nis a' feuchainn dòigh mo bheatha atharrachadh, ga h-ùrachadh, tha mi a' feuchainn tilleadh faisg air an t-saoghal sin cuideachd.

Fuar

Chan eil am brùthadh-fala ìosal agam cho dona an-diugh 's a bha e fad beagan làithean, ach tha a' bhuinneach air ais, agus airson adhbhar air choireigin, tha mi fuar. 'S mathaid oir bha mi fuar tron oidhche. Fear de na rudan as lugha orm sa bhaile seo, 's e an àbhaist an teasachadh-meadhain (no teasachadh air astar) a chur dheth buileach eadar deich uairean feasgar is sia sa mhadainn. Amadain.

Bent double

Another major problem is that the combination of belly ache and hypotension forces one into a stooping posture, whether one is standing or sitting. The vicious circle here is that the more time one spends bent double, the more the body gets used to it, seems to need it, so the more time one spends bent double. It's like addiction, in a way.

These days, I can hardly remain with my body straight for more than a few minutes at a time. Apart from the loss of time when walking somewhere or doing something on my laptop, when one stops to 'stoop and rest', this also means I can't have my hair cut or something done about my two incisors which have falled out quite recently (it never rains but it pours), because I couldn't stay in the barber's or dentist's chair for long enough for them to complete their tasks.

Wasted mornings

One of my main problems these days is starting them too late. Of course, when I have some appointment, I only get up early enough to be there on time, and after returning and resting after the effort not much of the day is left; that's only to be expected. But even when there is no delay of this sort, I spend so much time lying in bed, whether dozing or reading some book, that by the time I finally find the moral strength to get out of bed and face the day, it's usually already the afternoon. Given how much time I have to spend resting between individual activities, and given that I go to sleep again well before midnight, there is obviously never time enough to eat enough, drink enough, perform all the desirable bodily maintenance and housework, check the news, answer emails, do enough language studies and so on.

As a consequence, despite my being on sick leave, my body continues to deteriorate and my backlog of various things to do is growing, rather than decreasing. Which in turn makes me weaker and more zestless, thus more prone to lie in for too long in the morning, and the vicious circle continues.

The flit

Amongst the things I failed to blog about was the moving of the flat in mid-July. It went exceptionally well, no doubt partly because the night before I worried so much I could scarcely sleep. I worried that, in my emaciated state, moving the desk with a friend of mine might be beyond my power; in the event we actually managed to move virtually all my possessions at one go.

The following day I handed the old flat over to the landlord, which went smoothly as well; I later even received about a third of the deposit. Considering I had expected something between zero and a half, it could be called a success.