Pottering in the Morning

 I recall quite clearly when I retired, from Shell in the Netherlands, at the tender age of fifty. I have never regretted that decision for an instant. The quieter life of a retiree suited me immediately, and it opened up a number of fresh pathways which ultimately transformed my life, from helping to raise two more kids to an extended adventure in New York to a much more expansive relationship with choral singing.

 

Some may wonder if my cancer diagnosis became a source of delayed regret about early retirement. Actually, the opposite is true. I look on it as having given me twelve years of a satisfied retirement that I otherwise would have sacrificed. The thought of still struggling through a corporate life and its requirements and then one busy day told that I had a terminal illness does not induce regret, only relief.

 

Fed perhaps by fear, envy, judgment or mere curiosity, I was often quizzed by people about how retirement changed me, especially in its early years. I found myself extolling one particular aspect of my altered life and would talk with special joy about the first 90 minutes of each day. Far from the former routine of an early alarm call, rushed preparation and a strenuous commute to an office waiting with dozens of e-mails to answer, I could now follow my own clock. My wife would get up even earlier than I used to, but when she left the apartment for her bus then the world was my own, and I cherished that time. I could linger in bed, then deal with the (many fewer) e-mails while enjoying some TV and the pleasures of tea, coffee and cereals. I could achieve all this without any rush at all and still have plenty of time to complete errands before noon.

 

Now history is starting to repeat itself in our new circumstances. We are in a new country, in generous surroundings with benign climate and peaceful atmosphere. It is my wife who has retired and has the chance to witness and to create change in consequence. I can find my new morning routine, with the added inducement of sharing some of it with my life partner.

 

Buoyed by an enduring phase of good health, and by the smartness of my wife, I have settled quickly into what I am calling my morning potter. Here I usually wake around 8.30AM (still earlier then my wife, who most days can potter even more languidly than I can. I put on a bath robe and immediately take my morning pills, before drifting into the kitchen, starting tea and orange juice for two, opening the sun room, checking the weather, and starting up my laptop.

 

Juice, tea and perhaps a croissant close at hand, I find a good spot with a lovely view and potter away for the best part of an hour. E-mails do not take long to handle, and my new phone does not usually have much to disturb me either. I get myself up to date with any US sport that took place while I was asleep. Then I can play my five morning games on the computer, Worldle, Nerdle, Wordle, Byrdle and Connections. One benefit of feeling well is that my game performance has been restored to its former level – perhaps this is a reminder that good times cannot last for ever and I should cherish them even more.

 

After the games, I can turn on my pride and joy, my beautiful De Longhi coffee machine, and make a delicious cup for each of us, so my wife will have three liquid joys awaiting her when she rises. Next for me on the computer will be my daily fifty Portuguese words and phrases and perhaps a few irregular verbs. That study certainly pays off and progress feels rapid just now. After the language work, I might read a section of this week’s Economist online.

 

Now I’ll shave and dress, trying to get that out of the way before my wife needs the bathroom, and surely it is also time for some more delicious Portuguese breakfast food. I have recovered a childhood love of Weetabix, but it is also hard to walk past a pile of famous Portuguese Pasteis de Nata, and the fruit is rather wonderful too.

 

By now my wife will be in the bathroom, so I can cross the living room to my electronic piano and play there for twenty or thirty minutes. That is another skill that seems to be returning, and surely another one to embrace while health and coordination allow. Luckily, this habit is a popular one not just with my wife but also with the neighbours, so I can spread a little joy while partaking in it myself. Afterwards I might return to read another Economist section if time permits, or otherwise I can shuffle money around or do some other administration to prepare for the day ahead.

 

We have been blessed with many warm and calm and sunny days, so my morning potter can sometimes be topped off with a quiet sit down outside in the sun, soaking up warmth and view. My wife can at last catch up with me. The bathroom part of her morning potter is longer than mine, but just as pleasurable. I have a new pride and joy in the form of a steam shower in the bathroom, and my wife might enjoy that in the morning, though my emerging habit is to enjoy that at night.

 

We have been quite busy so far, even if the pace has started to slacken. Once we are both fully up and ready, we can head of for a beach-side walk, often in parallel with some hospital or other administrative errand and some grocery shopping. We are discovering that it is hard to get out of the villa before 11.30, and then that it is hard to complete our daily tasks and joys and return home before 4pm. That squeezes lunch and also delays my time for a nap before we settle down to evening TV, but I am fine with that. Still, I might still have time for an early evening potter (more Portuguese, anyone? Or write a blog post?).

 

I have little fear now of my wife missing work and becoming bored. She always loved a morning potter even when it was only available to her on Saturdays. Now she is starting to cherish it, and also to embrace an early evening routine of home improvement and sometimes nipping out to buy something for a current project. I sense that she loves it. We do not know how long this grace period of good health will last, and both our potter routines will become tougher when it ends, but we are at least creating a good starting point for that time, and perhaps parts of our routines will still endure even if my health is less robust.

 

The daily potters are far from the only joys that we are discovering in Portugal. The beach-side walks are wonderful, and we are making sure that we treat ourselves with food and wine often enough. Our church and our choirs bring us joy, as does frequent contact with friends and family.

 

 One winter project involves installing some solar and perhaps finding a way to heat our pool. The only way I can think of that would make my morning potter much more enjoyable would be a swim, and at the moment that is not a practical option for five months per year. Perhaps we’ll also get in the habit of spending more time on our roof or balcony, where the views are at their finest.

 

It feels wonderful to have discovered a new morning pottering routine. It feels even more wonderful to observe how my wife is achieving the same. Many find that retirement is not an easy transition, and that is far from the only transition that she is facing just now. But I do believe that a morning potter can be of immense help. I certainly value my own mornings more than ever.

Algarve Impressions

 We have now been living in the Algarve for five weeks, and things continue to go well. The longest we had ever stayed at the villa beforehand was about seven weeks, during the pandemic, so our stay now is already approaching that duration. In December we will have more quiet time to settle in before a flood of visitors at new year, when hopefully most renovations will have been completed and much of our shipment unloaded.

 

Recently I have been writing mainly about emotions, often tough emotions. Those have not gone away, but the balance is quickly veering towards the tranquility we seek here. That is only possible because of continued good health. Indeed I still seem to feel better day by day. Long may that continue.

 

There are various ways I judge my own state of health. One very encouraging sign is a sort of recovery of intelligence. When labouring under treatment side effects, I was certainly physically wobbly but my mental acuity may have suffered too, much though I tended to deny it. For many weeks my morning puzzles seemed more difficult than usual, but now I am back to my previous form. I sense my memory is stronger too. This positive period surely cannot last for many months, but I will certainly accept any time offered. Perhaps the current cocktail of treatments and meds can be effective for a sustained period of time.

 

So, for a change, let us think and write less about cancer and more about impressions of our new place of abode. There are certainly many such impressions to share.

 

One of the first things that struck me as soon as we arrived was how quiet the Algarve is at this time of year. The end of the tourist season almost works like a switch, and peace and regular living reigns. There is occasional traffic but most journeys are stress-free. We have noticed that several restaurants have already closed or reduced hours for the winter, and some choose this period to do renovations. Luckily, we will always have enough good choices, even if fewer than we are used to. And a peaceful, regular life has obvious attractions.

 

My next reflection is quite how international the resident community is, perhaps even more diverse than New York though in different ways. In shops, you hear as much English spoken as Portuguese, blended with a smattering of French, German, Dutch and Spanish. The locals seem completely happy with this colonisation of their home region. It is an unusual community, rather white and affluent and of advancing years, blended with a local community, golfers and other tourists. Perhaps elements of that blend will become annoying over time, but for now it suits us very well.

 

No reflection of the Algarve can ignore the food and drink. Eating and drinking here is a pure joy. Nothing is over-processed or over-sweetened. I have still yet to taste a glass of bad Portuguese wine, and the food is consistently wholesome and tasty. I happen to be going through a period of high appetite, so there is plenty to appreciate. It is no wonder at all that a so-called Mediterranean diet has so many proven health benefits.

 

Another reflection is about the green energy transition. Even if utilities are expensive here and it costs a lot to fill the car, it appears as though the public have embraced the new global realities. On the roads, Dacia and small Chinese EV’s proliferate and charging stations are ubiquitous. Solar panels are cheap and widely available, and indeed will be an element of our next improvement project. Separation of trash is well-established. This is all encouraging to witness.

 

The social system in the Algarve is also impressive. My wife put in a request last week, and this morning we were visited at home by some palliative care experts. The need has yet to arise, but, when it does, we will be well provided for. We are still finding our way through the options of the medical care here, but the initial impression is one of smart use of limited resources to achieve the best possible outcome for citizens.

 

Portugal is certainly having a moment. The Algarve was in vogue when I first bought the villa, but the area suffered, along with the whole nation, during the financial crisis. The slow climb back has accelerated over the last few years. Lisbon must be one of the top ten city tourist destinations just now, maybe only behind Venice and Barcelona. And Portugal has become an investment opportunity of choice for many, including a growing cohort from the USA. These trends can only be good ones for our own presence here: the villa has probably appreciated in value a great deal, for the first time since I bought it.

 

Our appreciation of the Algarve has only grown during our first weeks here. No doubt complaints will set in over time, but hopefully we will still feel positive overall as we start to put down more roots here. We feel blessed to have the opportunity to build a fulfilled life here. We hope many friends and family will visit to share our joy.    

More Miracles Achieved and still more needed

 I cannot imagine our first month in Portugal going better than it has. We have been lucky and we have been smart. Yet despite all this success, the month has opened my eyes much further about the challenges still ahead for both me and for my wife as we continue our shared journeys to different destinations.

 

The first week in Portugal almost felt it could have come from the creation story in Genesis. Every day brought fresh major challenges and opportunities to fail and jeopardise our entire project, yet every day we managed to step up to the plate.

 

The primary blessing during our creation week was that I felt so well. Indeed I still feel very well nearly a month later, perhaps even a bit better each day. If I had been a burden during that time then even my splendid wife might have buckled under the strain. As it turned out, we were quite an effective team and equipped to benefit from the good luck that perhaps a higher power chose to gift us that week.

 

On the seventh day God rested, and I wonder if we will also look back on our first Sunday as the most significant day of that frenzied week. For it was on the Sunday, thanks to a kind a diligent contact, that we discovered the church community that should serve us well in Portugal. The church is a drive of three quarters of an hour, one of so many burdens I impose on my wife, and is Anglican rather than Catholic, but the community is surprisingly vibrant, the location wonderful, and the service gratifyingly spiritual. Their choir is also quite active and well-led so Genesis Sunday also re-started our choral singing.

 

During that first service I could not prevent my mind from wandering forwards in time. Despite having so long to plan our move, how is it that I had completely overlooked so many key aspects? Of course I need a place to die and be cremated that will be suitable for others to gather, even if I have no pretensions of grandiose funerals accompanied by choruses from the Duruflé requiem. My emotions swung in waves between fear and dread, worry and pity for my wife, and the potential for peace. Since then, the emotional balance has gradually become healthier. What a large step forward Genesis Sunday gave us.

 

My emotional burden has continued to ease as we head to the conclusion of our first month in Portugal. By now I suppose we are well into the Pentateuch, yet our luck continues to hold. We have managed to balance more successful administration with starting to relax and enjoy ourselves. It has helped that our younger daughter has visited us not just once but twice already, for she can help both practically and emotionally. We have enjoyed many long walks by the beach already, and rediscovered some of our favourite Algarvian restaurants. We have greeted other relatives and friends, some established and some new. We have even discovered what seems like a very suitable community choir to enjoy together.

 

All the way through this month, the potential for disaster has lurked but somehow been averted. How I have stayed so well has felt like one miracle. The opportunities for being denied entry owing to some non-compliance or error, a calamitous breakage, a fall, a major setback to the renovations, a refusal or deferral of medical treatment or revelation of inadequate competence to meet our needs, something failing at the bank or the car showroom, all of these were events of high jeopardy that somehow worked out in our favour. And now we are surely past the worst and can approach what remains without so much dread.

 

Despite these successes and the peace they are gradually helping to build, of course the fundamentals of our situation have not changed. I have had several weeks of wonderful health, but Dr Mellinghoff was clear that we should be ready for more episodes and permanent unwelcome changes, perhaps quite soon. I suspect that he may have been even more open with my wife.

 

We have made our choices and for me I am grateful that we made the choices we did. I am confident that I will be able to deal with my own future. For my wife I hope it turns out the same, but, prepared though I thought I was, I am not sure that I was fully attuned to the scale of change that our choices will impose on her over the coming months and years.

 

It is worth remembering once again the old adage about the three toughest changes commonly faced during a lifetime. They are dealing with a death or divorce, dealing with a major change in employment and dealing with a change in place to live, especially one involving long distances and multiple continents. My wife is already facing up to each of these three changes, in as stark an environment as could be imagined. Caring for a terminally ill husband and what follows, retirement from a gratifying job, and moving across the world to a place where she has few roots: each of these three challenges are monumental. I pray more than ever that we have as much time, and especially as much healthy time, as possible to give her the best chance to prepare and face up to this cocktail of challenges. The social aspects of this are as important as the technical ones. Giving up work, attractive but leaving gaps in everyday life, may be one of the toughest parts.

 

So far she has been magnificent. Challenge can bring out the best in us. An example is driving a car. It is now nearly two years since I could not safely drive any distance. During that time my wife’s driving has progressed from tentative to confident so that she is now a very effective road warrior. Practice makes perfect. The same is true for some other life skills, especially those ones which I formerly dominated in our marriage such as managing the finances. Sometimes it is not easy to give these things up, and I do become frustrated and interfere on occasion. I suppose my own burden is not trivial either.

 

As usual we know where to find solace. Some fear can be healthy and we do well to accept and embrace it. Prayer is helping us more than I ever previously imagined. The companionship of friends and family is a wonderful comfort. And we have as much to be grateful for as ever before. As we start to settle into a more relaxed routine, hopefully in reasonable health, thankfulness can permeate all we think and all we do. 

Torrents of Emotion

  

This week we finally achieved a dream I have had for nineteen years, when we touched down in Faro after a short stopover in The Azores. Faro duly had its usual uplifting effect, and my mood lifted immediately. Since then, thanks mainly to my wife, we have achieved minor miracles. Yet of course it is hard to feel wholly euphoric given the context of my disease and constant thoughts about how long we may have together and in what state of health.

 

The project to move from New York may have been the most demanding I have ever participated in, including work projects. This may well have been true even cancer-free. My wife had to close out her work. We had items for sale, gift, disposal and shipment, and arrangements for the shipment were far from simple. Many friends earned and repaid our attention. During the last week came the bulk of the sorting, but we also had a car to sell, a cat the transport and plenty of other paperwork. As the week progressed, we both became progressively more exhausted, and I knew I was not wholly reliable, likely to lose or break mission critical items. I also found myself obsessing over particular details, of which some did not warrant that attention. I was on moderate steroids, so peace was in short supply throughout the week.

 

With copious help, somehow we made it, and the tally of regretful lost items was much smaller than it might have been. We were not quite ready to arrive to a building site, but I suppose it was us who tried to expedite the villa improvements and the contractors had done lots of work.

 

Our goal was to arrive and then immediately slow to retirement pace, but that was never going to be feasible since many critical items in Portugal required immediate attention from whatever energy we could find. Luckily I have enjoyed my healthiest week since the summer so I might have even been a net asset rather than a total liability.

 

The first minor miracle was that immigration arranged an appointment to see me on a date which turned out to be our first in Portugal. We had been applying for months and expected many more delays, complicating all sorts of other administration and maybe costing us money and other opportunities. A kind lawyer chose to drive from Lisbon to accompany us and she made sure that everything went smoothly. That was a big box ticked with a lot of happenstance. We also made progress with our bank.

 

On day two we embarked on two other projects, buying mobile phones and shopping for a car. These may seem reckless so soon after arrival, but hire car costs would mount quickly and working smartphones are rather essential to life nowadays. We made progress in both quests.

 

On Wednesday we turned our attention to medical matters. Our oncologist appointment had been deferred until next Tuesday so we felt we had to make a start beforehand. A couple of my meds had been lost in the packing and Tuesday seemed a long time to wait for them, even if nothing else went wrong before.

 

Our experience showed up some differences between the US and Europe. We managed to find a social health centre, in a place physically reminiscent of the DMV or Jamaica public sector offices, but the service was outstanding. Everyone was happy to talk in English despite the technical content. My wife was immediately given a health service number and will be allocated a primary care doctor within a few days, and I will receive the same once the immigration is finished. There was a publicly funded doctor on hand to give me an appointment within two hours. I had to pay full cost, but 31 euros felt very affordable, and even more so when the meds that they happily prescribed cost only six euros for a year’s supply. We were so chuffed that we went back to the car dealer and closed a deal before the end of the day, and meanwhile we had finished unpacking what we brought and had reached a manageable position for the building project.

 

On day four we had to close out insurance, payment, paperwork and delivery of the car, and our dealer, not from a profession I generally admire, turned out to be very helpful and not just out for quick profit. Then we turned our attention back to the phones. They are in our hands but we have some self-training to complete. Tomorrow we return our hire car, and on Saturday morning we hope to secure a good TV package. Not bad for one week! But we are in a state of perpetual exhaustion.

 

It is hard to maintain any overview of the big picture amidst such chaos.

 

 Fortunately we can surely slow down next week to regain some perspective and a little peace. We cannot retain this level of emotion, though of course emotion is an outcome not a choice so we cannot be certain. During the last two weeks we have both witnessed elation, pride, intense love and extreme thankfulness, but at times also something close to despair, being overwhelmed and out of control, intense fear and something like foreboding. Perhaps it is just as well that we have not had time to reflect. Under this sort of pressure, it probably pays to stay practical and in the moment.

 

Still, once we can focus on the bigger picture we will surely find something very nuanced. We have indeed accomplished a dream in making it here and the opportunities for a wonderful life feel wonderful, together and surrounded by friends and family and new acquaintances and activities. The food is pretty good too.

 

The other side of the context will be something we have to embrace more and more. The cancer feels likely to accelerate very soon, though of course we could be lucky and be given a further extended period of grace. We just have to be as prepared as we can be and remember to be thankful for what we have had, what we still have, and what we can continue to look forward to. In this new phase we will develop new mantras and strategies, remain hopeful and positive, and accept whatever may come as gracefully as we can.

 

One new mantra will surely involve peace. The last two weeks has not offered the most propitious start for that. But it feels that we are in the ideal place for the emotional torrent to recede quickly. It already has. 

Farewell to New York

Our one-way tickets to Portugal are booked for October 19^th , just ten days away. There have been periods, especially since my cancer diagnosis, when we had many doubts about fulfilling our dream to live at our Algarve home, and even a few times when one or both of us became unsure that we really wanted that outcome. But, barring unlikely disasters in the coming days, we really are going to make it. How healthy I will be for how long remains far from certain, but we are generally determined to enjoy whatever time we have, always feeling grateful for the opportunities we have been given.

 

So, God willing, my next and subsequent posts will be created in Portugal. That means it is timely to reflect on the twelve years we have lived in New York. Overall, they have been good times for us.

 

I confess to having become quite jaundiced about th e state of US society in recent years. If I am asked about what I will miss, I happily list friends and family and my special Sunday mornings at St Josephs but the list ends there. A refrain of mine is to bewail how broken is US society in so many ways. Looking at all the most important indicators, from healthy life expectancy to happiness or road traffic deaths, the US has fallen from a world leader to a rich world laggard over the course of my lifetime. Yet none of these indictors even warrants a mention in what passes for political discourse.

 

Most Americans concur with my narrative about a broken country. But mot of those same Americans would still defend the narrative about the USA being the greatest country in the world. I can only think of one metric where that is clearly true, that being military might. But any analysis of how that mjght has been deployed since 1945 would reveal a litany of failure and devastation. And still countries are declared enemy combatants with little justification and huge consequences for everyone’s prosperity. \

 

Lexington is a reliably strong page in The Economist. Every so often columnists are rotated and I recall one farwell article. The first paragraph extolled America and following paragrapghs sought examples of America’s attraction. Every example brought out aspects where humanity had yet to do damage. The nature, abundance and fertility of land, and potential of America is unique in the world. Yet whenever humans muscle in this potential is sacrificed.

 

During our first summer here, we visited some lovely places including Lake George and Fire Island. I both cases, we tried to go for a stroll once we had settled in. But our walks were curtailed almost immediately by notices telling us that the land was private and out of bounds to casual visitors. What a waste!

 

Like departing Lexington, I started this piece with the aim of praising America, but found myself diverted into darker territory. I will try to restore some balance in the rest of this piece.

 

New York has been good for my family. My wife has thrived at work. We arrived with two timid pre-teens, yet each has developed into an impressive young adult. I invested heavily into my singing hobby and my effort was repaid many times over. Culture is often excellent in NYC.

 

America also does sports very well, once you get past the annoyance of domestic eventsbeing mis-cast as a world championships. We have had great days and nights enjoying live sports events. In our last weeks here we have enjoyed yet one more lovely night at the open tennis, I have added two more Broadway plays to my resumé, and I even got to sing the national anthem with a choir at Yankee stadium. I even think I got most of the words right, not a simple feat.

 

Inevitably, the final two years of our New York memories will be clouded by my cancer diagnosis. Right on cue, things took a turn for the worse in recent days. Yesterday we were offered a tough choice of whether to have one more operation. The left side tumours are well-suppressed at the moment, but the right side is growing. With heavy hearts, we agreed that an operation now would be too risky and burdensome, so in some respect we are accepting that the cancer will take its path. Until now, steroids and other treatments have kep episodes and the most unpleasant symptoms under control, but that is likely to become progressively more difficult in the coming months.

 

The USA may be broken, but it has as many good people as anywhere else, and it has been our privilege to meet, work with, admire and build friendships with many New Yorkers. Especially in the last two years, we have experienced deep wells of love and support, of friendship and hope. It all makes a difference, and we are so grateful for all of it. People are good. Americans are good. New Yorkers are good. My wife and I, and both our younger kids and our US based family, have been beneficiaries.

 

For us it feels the right time to leave this continent and to seek a more peaceful and comfortable life in Portugal, filling our last days together, whether few or many, with love, prayer and hope. We wish this country and indeed this continent, the strength to utilise more of its abundant potential. I will try hard to see more of the strengths and less of the brokenness from our new vantage point. I do feel that we are going home, after a prolonged and enjoyable adventure. Home is where the heart is. But we are grateful for the adventure and for everything it has offered our family. Fare thee well, great city and great country. Just go easy please on the ludicrous bragging about being the greatest.        

Happy

 One of my favourite jokes is about happiness. True to my love of dark British humour, the joke itself is not a happy one. It comes from the peerless TV show Fawlty Towers, and involves a conversation between Basil and Sybil.

 

Locked into a desolate marriage, the pair live their lives as separately as possible, Basil especially filled with bitterness, shame and resentment. On the occasion for this joke, things at the hotel have been going unusually well, and Sybil takes a risk by talking to Basil, a rare occurrence and one she will usually regret. She asks how he is feeling, and he replies neutrally. Sybil persists: ‘but are you happy, Basil?” “Happy?” “Ah, happy”, comes his reply. “I remember happy”. The depth of despair in this interchange is truly brilliant.

 

The joke came to my mind this week for a lovely reason. I discovered this week that, once again, I am happy myself. That is the first time I have been able to say that since our Europe trip in June. I was happy for that whole month, but then not since, until now.

 

It is hard to be happy, in more than a fleeting sense, if we do not feel fully well. I have experienced this issue many times, but especially during the last three months. Ever since picking up Covid on the flight home from Europe, I have not been fully well. The last months have involved an operation, many scans and treatments, and lots of side effects. Sometimes these have been severe and disabling, and always there has been a lingering sense of fear that things could be about to get worse or become permanently disabling. The fear is the toughest thing to get past. It is only now, with all symptoms back to where they were before the summer, that the fear has lifted. For the last two weeks my only issue has been the side effects from steroids, but that inhibited sleep and affected my mood. Only now, with steroids tapered towards zero has the door opened for happiness.

 

With the opportunity for happiness returning, I have been fortunate to have encountered several positive happiness triggers over the last couple of weeks. Perhaps the turning point when I fortuitously got my laptop back after the incident with hot tea. It is strange how helpless I felt without my laptop, and how its restoration pepped me up.

 

Next, I can swim again, now that eight weeks has passed since the most recent operation. Even better, the steam room at my local pool has been functioning properly for a change, so I can reward myself with a lovely steam after the exertion of swimming. But the main benefit of swimming has been the realisation that I can do it without negative consequences. On the subject of exercise, I am also delighted to discover that I can enjoy walking again. On Saturday I estimate that I walked for over ten kilometres, and only felt good afterwards. This week I also went to a Broadway play. Even though the play turned out to be a disappointment, that was one more experience to help me feel happy.

 

Positive self-assessment lies behind other triggers for happiness. While experiencing side effects from radiation, I was worried about my short-term memory. Memory issues were flagged as a common side effect, and I was warned that some of these could be permanent. So I have not been able to resist testing myself, especially when I wake up (which has been several times each night while I have been on steroids). Initially my results were inconclusive. I sometimes struggled remembering names, though I was not sure if that was a new or worsening phenomenon or simply something that had been true for months or years. But, once the other happiness triggers were in place, I realised that my memory was absolutely fine, as far as I could tell.

 

Another trigger was realising that my eyesight was improving again. I believe that eyesight issues had a lot to do with my episodes of disorientation during August. Into September there were certainly residual problems with lack of focus and blurriness. But these have gone now. Perhaps my hearing is restored too. It is certainly more comfortable wearing my hearing aids than it was a month ago. I find also that I can do some tough puzzles again on my laptop, another boost for confidence. Beforehand, either brain or eyesight issues made that infeasible. The burst of energy that came from completing one puzzle successfully was lovely.

 

I do miss singing in choirs, but that has led me to appreciate more the opportunities to sing that remain. Cantoring at mass at our local church or at the home where we volunteer has never given me more pleasure.

 

All these triggers for happiness seem to have been piling up over the last couple of weeks. But the biggest trigger of all is abundantly clear. We have booked our tickets to move to Portugal! In just four short weeks, all being well, we will be waking in Portugal each morning and savouring the peace, comfort and love that our home there has to offer. After a few false starts and delays, and after recent fears, it is such a relief to be so close to finally moving, and perhaps we can be lucky enough to still have an extended period of good health to look forward to there.

 

It feels wonderful to know that, once again, I am happy. I understand more fully now how tough it is to feel happy while suffering even mild discomfort, and, especially, when feeling fear about how symptoms might develop. But the fear has now passed for the time being, and that has created space for good people and good fortune, and even some smart moves by me.

 

Are there lessons to be learned here? I am not sure. I suppose a good goal might be find happiness even when not feeling 100%. That is tough. But perhaps we can achieve it. A key might be moving past fear. As the illness develops, I have to expect periods of discomfort, and ultimately permanent discomfort. Does that make happiness impossible? Perhaps it does, but maybe not if we can move beyond fear. That feels like a desirable goal. It feels like it will be easier to achieve in Portugal than here in the US, but I suppose we will have to discover that ourselves when the time comes. For now, I am happy once again, and feel very thankful for that.  

Good People

 I don’t believe I have suffered a day of extreme anxiety or depression in my whole life. That makes me feel blessed. Since my diagnosis I have met many medical professionals, and a lot of them have an interview sheet they must go through. Do I ever feel depressed or hopeless? Do I ever contemplate self- harm or have suicidal thoughts? I have never felt the need to pause before answering all these questions in the negative.

 

I suppose the situation may change as my illness develops and it is never smart to rule things out. And last week, with all its symptoms and misfortunes, turned into a test of my resolve. I was certainly low for a few days, brought down by physical and emotional woes. But I have emerged from that low point now and feel almost fully restored. For that, I have many people to thank, starting with my wife and family but including many folk I know much less well and who have fewer reasons to have supported me. People are good.

 

I am not beating myself up for getting a bit more miserable than was healthy for me, for plenty of things went wrong, all at once. It is not at all easy to discover almost overnight that the whole left side of my body had become largely useless, and the frustration from not being able to carry out simple tasks was horrible. I was dropping things everywhere and needed help with everything. I, rightly, had to sacrifice my singing, and that felt like a decisive moment.

 

And, as always happens when we are vulnerable, misfortunes piled upon misfortunes. The car decided that it was the ideal time to present us with an unwelcome large bill. And then I succeeded in pouring hot water all over my laptop, rendering the keyboard and touch pad useless. A bit of depression is understandable, surely?

 

Still, I came through it and out of the other side, and it feels worthwhile to analyse what made the difference, in case the issue might resurface at some point. Surely the main factor was a positive development in my physical health. Dear steroids, I hate you but I love you too, and you gave me my left side back, together with all manner of everyday necessary competences. So the medical professionals are owed thanks, though not as much as my wife, who stayed calm and supportive even when the steroids were making me tough company. Thank you, my darling.

 

But stories often revolve around more than grand heroes. I have always marvelled at how good nearly everybody is, and this period contains some lovely examples. Trust in people and they will repay you. Most of us are just trying to make this strange world a slightly better place for everyone living in it.

 

Friends and family played a vital role. My sister has always been a positive influence through my illness and it feels good to have her in the team. The same is true of all our children and many in our wider families. I am fortunate that I have healthy relationships with everyone I know well.

 

But then there are other friends. People queued up to come and visit me when I needed company. A musician friend continued to give me his valuable time when I needed distraction. Others dropped in just to chat, even if I was a steroid-crazed man at the time. It feels good to have this support, and it will be important to build up such a network once we reach Portugal next month, a network that we can help as well as to rely on when we need help ourselves.

 

But my idea for this posting is to focus on other heroes. The lady who runs the car shop that we use is a true saint. Working in a rough, male-dominated field full of unscrupulous greedy operators, she is a wonder. She has always given us honest advice with our own interests at heart. Her life has had its own tragedies, yet she maintained her integrity and I am thrilled to see how she has built up a successful business. Somehow I came through the ordeal of paying up lots of money for a necessary repair feeling better rather than worse. That would not happen at many car shops.

 

Then there was the computer. First I took it to some kids on the high street, who were condescending and plainly only interested in fleecing me for as much as they could get. Luckily I saw through that, but I was resigned to another big bill and living without vital files for a while.

 

Then I started meeting good people. The next morning I just about had the energy to make it to Costco, and walked right up to an Indian guy giving computer advice, again with my interests at heart. I learned that burying the keyboard in rice might bring it back to life, and perhaps the pad too if I gave it a bit longer. And I heard honesty and possible alternative plans, including a particular Apple store that specialises in repairs. I felt better already.

 

The following morning I had my keyboard back, and ventured to the local Apple store. Apple are pretty mercenary so I was not optimistic. But once again I struck gold.

 

This time my saviour was an agent in her sixties who continued to work part-time for Apple after her retirement. She was probably the only person in the whole store who could speak my language and actually wanted too. We talked through the chances of the pad resurrecting itself (low) and moved onto other fixes. I could buy a pad, and it would bne affordable and give me my computer life back straight away.

 

The lady had another trick up her sleeve, which was to find her pet technician, probably the only technician there who could speak her language, leave alone mine. Quickly they teamed up and sorted me out, and, better, I felt valued rather than bitter or humiliated, which I am sure would have been the case had I stumbled upon other staff members. Of all the happy turning points restoring my spirit, having my computer back might have been most influential. And normal good people lay behind this minor miracle. Well done Apple for an enlightened employment policy.

 

I could mention other heroes. This week has seen a series of heartening events. Bad things pile up in clusters, but good ones do too, and I have been a major beneficiary this week. People are good, and good people are doing good things all the time. The bonus is that, usually, those people feel good themselves. There is nothing more restorative than helping somebody. I needed help, and found it in abundance, from both familiar and unlikely places.