Wednesday, 12 March 2025

Are we there yet?

Normal is defined as the usual, typical, or expected state or condition. Normality, normalcy if you will, is the state (and or condition) I've been striving to achieve from the moment my one on one cardiac nurse woke me from my anaesthetic fuelled slumber back in December. Whether I was indeed normal before my surgery is obviously debatable, but by and large in the three months since my old heart valve was replaced with a shiny new heart valve I've been trying to softly softly catchee monkey the only way I know how. And that is just literally one day at a time and, most importantly, listening to my body. Even when I came out of hospital I only have to look at the photos of myself with any of my early visitors to see that I looked like a ghost. A silent ghost: the Influenza Type A I contracted in hospital all but took away my voice during my first two or three weeks of liberation. So, gradually I've been driving again, getting my voice back again, getting my appetite back again (I lost over 10 kilos in hospital) and having the odd beer again (after 70 days dry it was a relief to discover I hadn't taken against the stuff). 

And walking again. My health app on my phone would indicate that in December I'd fallen off a cliff (which I kind of did) and it wasn't till mid-January that my weary body showed any signs of physical movement (hospital corridors aren't as long as you think). A major milestone was achieved only last week when I climbed (my) Everest and a couple of weeks before that I pulled in my first gig for nigh on three months - Chuck Prophet (who I know has been dealing with his own personal demons recently - he's currently in remission from Stage 4 Lymphoma). Chuck and his new band The Cumbian Shoes were nothing short of sensational at Nottingham's Metronome last month.

I guess, after normal, that's my next milestone: wouldn't it be great to feel sensational? Until then I'll stick with my usual response when people ask me how my recuperation's going: "Getting there," I tell them; quite ironic when you consider the masthead at the top of the page.

13 comments:

  1. Oh to feel "sensational" again. Let us know when you get there.

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    1. It's a pipe dream, I know. I'd probably settle for "I'm not too bad, thanks."

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  2. All progress is progress, getting near 'normal' is a win given what you've been through John

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    1. Getting near Warm Leatherette! (A reference I know you'll know.)

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  3. You are officially a wonder of science, John - I find it mind-boggling to think about all that you have gone / are going through. Sounds like you're making brilliant progress and "not too bad" is really pretty good in the context of it all. Here's to the next level.

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    1. I'm really not, C. But thank you for your kind words. They mean a lot. x

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  4. Excellent news on the health front but perhaps a missed opportunity in the photo to hold your jacket in front of your face in the approved S McS style. On the other hand we wouldn't have seen how well you are looking so I'll let it pass.

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    1. Hmm, an SMcSF with a coat you say? I fear we're heading into Khayem/Druid territory...

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    2. Or a Snoody McSnoodface as I believe the young people call it.

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  5. Glad to hear you're recovering well, John. Take it easy, I suppose it feels like a gradual recovery when you're going through it, but to me, going from hospital bed to attending gigs in less than 3 months sounds pretty good going.

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  6. This is excellent news. Though in my limited experience, the only person I know who's ever felt sensational is Tony Blackburn. The rest of us just have to make to with fair-to-middling.

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