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.