POLLY’S PYJAMAS……Update.

When I carried on with Horse Husband & Cancer after Elaine’s death, it was early on in the third lockdown, January ‘21. There was grey, cold, miserable weather outside mirroring just how I felt inside, no work to do at all and very little contact with anyone else.

Writing the blog was a saviour for me. With major encouragement from Anna (Blake) in the States I started out on, what was then, a completely alien path; along that path I found a voice with which I could call out of the darkness surrounding me and, in doing so, keep Elaine alive to a world which she had so recently had to leave and help keep myself sane.

I had the time to prepare and post each week for several months; then the weather changed, the lockdown lifted, and the gloom began to lift a little too – at least on the outside. Work had to be done again to fend off the unrelenting bills, and as I walked wraith-like and unbelieving back into what could only be loosely termed reality, I found that time was just not always going to be available to me for writing, however much I wished differently.

I stopped completely for several months as it was the right thing to do at the time, but a new desire had been born into me and I always did believe that I would pick up the blog once more, sooner or later.

In the autumn of that year I started writing again, but with Elaine gone and so many other calls on my time, it meant that I could only post on odd occasions and by no means as often as I would have liked.

That remained the ongoing situation until the unexpected arrival of Polly, which came to dominate my life so completely that it left me unable to keep, or put, my mind to anything else. Though there were ideas for blogs in the pipeline I simply could not gather the concentration to write and do them justice, so the decision was forced upon me to stop altogether and have at least one less thing to worry about in my life.

I never could keep the blogs to any particular timeline. They always did, and probably always will, meander back and forth through past present and possibly even the future, but I hope they have always made sense within themselves to the reader, and will continue to do so.

Polly’s Pyjamas are set back in time, but not very far back, so when things improved and I felt able to pick up the keyboard once more, writing about why I had been silent for so long seemed the logical place to start out again, regardless of any other ideas that I possessed.

And yes, I am happy to report that things have improved vastly and Polly is at last off of my shoulder, not put to flight completely you understand, but off of me and expelled to a perch in a corner of my world hopefully to be evicted from there too in a year or so.

That afternoon, at the end of the previous post after I took the half-dose of steroids, I went straight home praying silently for drug induced salvation and by the following morning it had been partially delivered.

For the first time in many weeks after a decent nights’ sleep, I stepped from bed without having to lift legs and feet with reluctant hands. I had no pain as such, just a gentle aching in my limbs and joints, what a difference after so much discomfort and worry. I found myself just standing by the bed smiling at my naked toes; I’m sure they were smiling back.

I kept that smile throughout the day but moved gingerly about, afraid that if I believed too much that this was all on the way out it would return with a vengeance and bite me in the arse. I took my first full dose of steroids mid-morning and the following day on waking the miracle was complete. I stepped from bed pain and ache free as though nothing had ever been amiss.

What a transformation! How the hell a few tiny pills can make such a difference in such a short space of time I do not know, but am I ever grateful they did.
With steroids for this condition you start off high then gradually reduce the dose until you reach a level where things are just under control. I’m at that level now, 5mg, any less and Polly starts to sing again. In about a years’ time I’ll start to reduce anew and if the bird has at last flown, I can come off treatment altogether.

But steroids do bring side effects with them. One of the most common is increased risk of osteoporosis (brittle/thinning bones) so I have to take Alendronic acid tablets and Calcichew-D3 to help protect against the possibility of this occurring. My temperament is also affected and I’ve found myself, on more than one occasion, struggling not to explode over some bloody trivial matter or other, not always successfully I might add.

But whatever, this is a small price to pay considering how serious the condition can become if left untreated. This was brought home to me a short while back when I had my eyes tested.

I told the Optometrist that I was on steroids and why. Pulling a concerned face she asked if I had experienced any headaches or optical problems and was relieved to hear that I hadn’t and that it seems I was diagnosed before things could progress that far.

She then went on to tell me that she has seen first- hand the consequences of Polymyalgia being left too long or untreated.
I was very, very lucky!

My thanks to all those who have contacted me since I began the saga of Polly to wish me well and in several cases share their own experiences of the condition.
I’d never heard of it until it flew into my life and so never realised how many people have suffered with it too. I guess I can’t be blamed for not expecting something that I didn’t know existed but they do say to always expect the unexpected, don’t they?
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The season is just about upon us, so to speak, which brings home to me only too well that it’s now close on being four years since Elaine left us. Four years, where that’s passed away to I really don’t understand, but then I suppose I said the same about three years and will more than likely say the same in a years’ time about five years.

I think as I get older it passes quicker, which is something I’m not sorry about, but I must be honest here and say that Polly coming along has forced me to acknowledge yet again that my time too is not infinite and that it’s not a good thing to sit around wasting life whilst trying to decide just what to do with what’s left of it. More on this another time.

At the moment getting through Christmas is enough for me to contend with. Not that I don’t enjoy it still, I do, and it will be lovely to spend the time with Marilyn once more, but it is sometimes impossible for me not to get swept away on a tide of nostalgia for the Christmases of the past that Elaine and I shared together.
I guess it’s better to remember the fun times more so than the sadder ones, but all are quite capable of bringing on the tears, as too are the sounds and smells of the season.

We used to listen to the Christmas carols and songs a lot on Classic FM at this time of year, but the first couple of years after her death I could not bear them. Gradually since, that has changed, and though many of them are quite able to bring a dampness to my eyes I’m more accepting now and at ease. Whether that’s due to a change within me or just the passage of time I don’t know, and don’t really care either; it just is.

There is one song that always gets played a lot around now that does provoke wonderful memories for me and make me smile through the tears that always seem to come with it. Those wonderful memories are of an hour or so of time that Elaine and I shared with each other one winters’ night out in the snow.

That song is “Walking in the Air” by Howard Blake taken from the timeless animated film The Snowman. I’m pretty sure most of you will know it and have seen the film.
It happened like this.

I can’t remember the year but it was quite a while back and shortly after Christmas time. Elaine returned home after doing horse duties around about 6pm and was excited that it had begun to snow after threatening to do so all day.

I looked out; the iron-grey sky was now hidden by darkness but it was snowing alright, big heavy ripe flakes falling like fists of cotton wool and it was settling fast.
In short, it snowed like hell for the next four hours and did not let-up until just after 10 o’clock. We had been watching, and now the decision was made that this was just too rare a chance to pass up and we were going out for a ‘walk’ in the exotic landscape that now surrounded our home.

Though she always felt the cold, in part due to the treatments she had been having, Elaine loved snow and thought it magical; I must admit, I do too.

So we donned jumpers, scarves, gloves, boots, coats and hats and ventured carefully outside. Carefully because the small to medium features of the land had gone, smothered by winters’ hand. Only the bulk of larger objects allowed them to announce their presence to the eye.

The snow was deep, threatening boot tops, as we crumped our way round to the front gate and after battling that snow for command of the same, we stood in the front driveway looking across the captive parkland before us. The glory of winter.
It was eerily, unnaturally light. Everywhere that pale, hard, kitchen appliance blue/white that only comes with deep reflecting snow at night time. The air was slowly freezing, the silence complete. A few scattered stars fought their way through the atmosphere to twinkle like tiny diamonds from a broken necklace.
We were utterly enthralled, rarely in this region do we get snow like this that holds the land in its grasp completely. Brooding, still and quiet, no traffic brave enough to risk the road, just Elaine and I the only two humans left alive in Gods frozen creation.

And God smiled from above as, for the best part of the next hour, we walked hand in hand, arm in arm, head to shoulder. We cavorted like children, threw snowballs, made a rather rough snowman and even played ‘snow angels’, though not for long!
Our clothes were wet and we were getting cold by the time we turned for home, but our spirits were high and inside we were glowing. As we got once more to the gate we both turned and looked across at a view we both knew we were unlikely to witness again for a long time to come, if indeed ever at all.

Holding tight to my arm but still looking before her Elaine said, “It reminds me of that scene from the Snowman Mark, you know the bit, where they fly above the landscape and look down at the snow covered fields and towns and it’s all quiet and sleeping below them, and that lovely tune is playing. Isn’t this wonderful?”

And it was wonderful. We’d never known a time in the snow like it before, and we never did again, that’s why it remains so special.

The footprints we made across the landscape that night have long since melted away, but the ones that night made across our hearts remain, neither weather nor time can efface them.

My deepest thanks to all of you who continue to follow my ramblings and to those who have recently signed-up to the blog. Thank you all for being there, it makes a difference believe me.

I shall be back next year but for now I wish you all a Happy Christmas time and may whatever Gods you have bless you with good health and fortune in the year to come…Mark x