Scream if you wanna go faster baby.

AAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH! If only it was that easy. Not the best of songs either, the Spice Girls were proof that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. I've just Google Image searched them (Leave me alone, I'm bored.) and they looked horrendous! I'm pretty sure I looked cooler than that in the late 90s. In fact I know I did because there is a photo of me in a luminous green Diadora t-shirt. Beckham definitely chose the right one mind. (Of course he did, he's perfect.)

I find myself wishing my life away. Everyone does it to an extent, living for the weekend, willing payday to come sooner, counting down the days until a holiday. It'd be nice to live in the moment but since it's rubbish at the moment I might as well think about the future.

Everything takes sooo long, I feel like I'm in a never ending queue. The British are said to be very good at queueing and it's a good job, let's just say if I was French there'd be a lot of shouting and throwing of beréts. But I'm not, I'm British, so I don't say anything to anybody who could possibly help and instead I just whinge about it in private. It's nice to be nice but unfortunately I think it's probably more productive to be a complete twat.

It's coming up to 6 months since the stem cell transplant and I barely notice any difference. I saw Babs, or Barbara to her face, last week and she said she could see improvements. One of those was in my voice but I hadn't even realised there was a problem with that in the first place. (And I still can't sing. And Siri still doesn't have a clue what I'm saying half the time. And well done you if you said, 'The problem with your voice is that it talks.' Very original.) I saw the physio as well and she's given me some exercises but it's hard to believe they'll help much with my walking. It feels about as productive as putting a plaster on an neck which has had its head chopped off. And the wait goes on for deep brain stimulation. I sound like a broken record but actually I'm much worse, I'm a broken person!

It would be good if you could fast forward, rewind, pause and play life. It took me until the end of that sentence to realise that already has a name, time travelling. Did any of you watch that documentary series Bernard's Watch? (I'm pretty sure it was a documentary. And the Queen's Nose 50p coin exists as well right?) I'd like one of those watches and I'd use it for better things than Bernard ever did, he would pause time if he forgot his homework or something. (And because I was a bit of a geek at school I never forgot my homework so wouldn't need the watch for that anyway. That's right kids, stick in at school, do your homework and maybe you too can become an unemployed 25-year-old living with your parents.)

I wouldn't abuse my new found time travelling capabilities, I'd just travel a few months into the future. It would be a bit like starting a book at chapter 2, I still want mysteries ahead but I'm not really bothered about all this scene setting before anything really gets going. (Or if you're not a reader, a bit like starting a relationship in bed. None of the flirting, texting, dating before you even get to see her boobs.)

There was a slogan on the wall at the gym I used to go to which said, 'The journey is more important than the destination.' What a load of bollocks, journeys consist of waiting around, getting tired from doing nothing and playing I spy. Whatever my destination is it had better be worth this journey. And there had better be boobs.

Does that make me crazy? Does that make me crazy? Does that make me crazy? Possibly.

I'm getting a tattoo. Nothing crazy about that. Why am I getting it? So I can't go swimming for a week. That's pretty strange.

I'm not good at resting, I'll only do it if I have no choice. I broke my foot at the beginning of 2013 because I was running too much. (Served me right, who runs 12 miles at 6am on New Year's Day? Not me, I broke the foot after about ten miles so had to hobble back home.) That was the only thing that stopped me running for a few months. (But I didn't let them put my foot in a cast, I told them I was flying to Dubai the next day (I wasn't) so they gave me a moon boot instead. With that and crutches I could still walk/swing about a few miles a day at least.) I can do less than one percent of the activity I used to but I do as much as I can every day and it exhausts me. 

I'm like a person who is £100 more in debt at the end of each month, I'm living beyond my means. I only swim (splash about trying not to drown) for about 25 minutes a day but sadly that is enough to tire me. And I insist on going on my bike about four times a day, only for 10 minutes at a time but again this is enough to tire me. I do this every day and the cumulative effect is that I'm constantly weak. Really all I want to be able to do is to walk properly again and the cycling and swimming just inhibit this. (Well, obviously I want to be able to do more than just walk properly but it'd be a good start.)

So being the logical, straightforward thinker that I am I figured if I get a tattoo then I will not be able to swim for a week and the rest will do me good. Obviously I could still swim but then the tattoo would be ruined and I care too much about my body to allow this to happen. That's not vanity, that's taking pride in my appearance. (And I'm a bit vain as well so I definitely won't go swimming.)

(I'm sure a lot of you will be thinking, 'You can't care that much about your appearance, tattoos are rubbish.' I'm not sure I actually disagree with that but as I say, a rest will do me good.)

I've always said that if I were to ever get a tattoo it would have to mean something to me. Assuming I don't get a tattoo of Bamboleo plastered across my forehead (And you can assume that!) one of my options is a lyric I like. Coldplay are my favourite band but most of their songs are about falling in, being in or falling out of love. None of those apply to me so I'm not getting a lyric about a fantasy girl put on me. (And it's a bit gay even if the girl existed.) (Even more gay than getting a lyric tattooed on me in the first place that is.)

So  I've decided to go for:

Hold it in now let's go dancing
I do you believe we're only passing through.

It's a lyric from Time is Dancing by Ben Howard, I think I've used it as a previous blog title. The mantra I take from the lyric means a lot to me and helped me come to terms with my diagnosis.

Next to the quote I am getting a picture of a pebble. (I know, this is sounding more and more rubbish.) The pebble is from the beach in Sunderland, I took it to London with me and held it as I had the stem cell transplant. It comforted me then and reminds me of what I once had and of what I am striving to have again.

This might be an early midlife crisis, I'm not sure. It might look crap. I might regret it. A lot (most?) of you will be thinking, 'That sounds shit.' (Danny I know you definitely will!)

I'm not really bothered. The inside of my forearm has never been my best feature anyway. (There's nothing wrong with it but it doesn't compare to my amazing face.) Really the only potential problem is that I need to figure out how the fuck to dance.

And if it's that bad then I will just get it removed at some point and that would mean another rest. I'm a genius sometimes.

Let's Push Things Forward

A track by The Streets from Original Pirate Material. That's one of the best albums since the turn of the century so I wanted to use a lyric from that as a blog title but most of the tracks are about getting drunk, taking drugs and shagging birds [sic] and I don't think that is an entirely accurate reflection of my current activities. I was going to use the lyric, 'I excel in both content and deliverance so let's put on our classics and we'll have a little dance, shall we?', from the same track but that goes beyond sarcasm and into falsehood. (Only because I'm not much of a dancer, obviously everything I say is amazing.)

I'm bored! Not in a nothing to do right now kind of way but in a nothing to do ever kind of way. I do stuff to pass the time but I'm not going anywhere. I live in a bubble and it's not a glamorous champagne bubble, it's more akin to a dying bubble in a flat bottle of Lambrini. Tasty. (That's no reflection on the friends and family I do see by the way, I enjoy their company muchly!) I need to start pushing things forward in life.

What I really want is a job. Working is much like growing up with a sibling. They are a total nuisance at times but really you know you wouldn't choose to be without them. And in fact it's better, in most jobs you work within a team so you get a bit of chat, which is more than my sister ever gave me! It's the social interaction of working that I crave so much.

Why don't I get a job? Tremors. It's difficult to explain how debilitating they are. Sat still I don't shake but as soon as I come to do something my arms and hands are uncontrollable. Imagine you're stood naked at the South Pole. My tremors are comparable to the amount you'd be shivering. To liven up this scene you can imagine that you're speaking to a penguin, after all I have Bamboleo. But no spooning with a friendly polar bear for warmth, that's cheating.

Before anyone will pay me to work I need to lose the tremors. I'm still on the waiting list for deep brain stimulation. (That 'non-invasive' brain surgery that takes six hours and involves drilling through my skull and putting wires in me.) The doctors are hoping to do that early next year, I don't know why it takes so long, it's only brain surgery, not exactly rocket science is it? (https://youtu.be/THNPmhBl-8I) There's no guarantee that will help the tremors either, it's used mainly for Parkinson's disease. I'll just have to go into it with an open mind (literally) and hope for the best.

Today I have sorted some voluntary work though and I'm delighted! It's with Sunderland Mind. Mind is a national charity which aims to help people with, and remove the stigmas attached to, mental health problems. It'll only be for a few hours a week initially, I'm starting with the writing group and the men's group. I could pick up some tips myself at the writing group and I'll be able to find out what men talk about at the other. Maybe I'll be able to grow a beard then? (I would then immediately shave it off coz I don't like beards but it would be nice to be able to have one.)

I'm also seeing a neurological physiotherapist next week. I'm pretty sure that I have a greater range of movement in my right knee but it feels very unnatural so when I walk I tend to swing my leg rather than lift it from the knee. (Much like a pirate with a wooden leg. Except I don't have a parrot.). I need to relearn how to walk properly as I have become accustomed to a lot of bad habits with my walking over the last 18 months so this will probably be quite difficult. Apparently you should set yourself (achievable) targets. My aim is to walk a mile comfortably and continuously. You have to walk a mile in somebody else's shoes to know how they feel and I might try and steal a pair of Natalie Portman's shoes, I bet she feels really nice.