Staffa and Beyond

A month and two days since casting myself over the edge of a concrete causeway on the Hebridean island of Staffa, to land two feet down on barnacle-covered concrete, I have arrived home. From here I shall need to administer my life and to try to judge what adjustments may be required to my life-style.

For three of those four weeks I was almost totally dependent on assistance given by others; of course by nursing and ancilliary staff, but also by friends. I have never been dependent in such ways since I was a baby, and it was a depressing and embarrasing time.

Only on one occasion during that time did I reach the star-stained heights; that was when The causeway: x marks the spotmy Pagan beliefs (or non-beliefs) overcame my reluctance to bother (myself and others) and I asked to be assisted onto the edge of the bed at 4.30am on 21st June to watch the Solstice Sunrise. I set up a henge on the table between me and my window on the Sun - comprised of seeds, dried fruit and raisins. The goddess rose perfect, never occluded by cloud, from an orange sliver to a golden disk that lit the room - and me - through my henge. That was the ultimate star-stained height; if anything better was experienced at Stonehenge, then then there must have been thousands of elated people. The extra benefit I had was that I was able to eat my henge!

The other side though - and not just once - was going to that place where the iguanas live. in fact not only did I reach iguana-cave, but I went to that part of the cave where even the iguanas don't go. I have been there before, many years ago - or somewhere similar - and it's difficult to see an exit-sign. In fact, if there is an exit-sign- and it's not guaranteed - it will probably be illuminated by people, and they are certainly not guaranteed.

So it was that my high-dependency hospital room/prison cell/torture chamber became a haven of light when I had a visit from a friend, or from my sister.

During the first week, in the little Mull and Iona Community Hospital, there were dark days even while looking at red deer grazing on the mountainside from my hospital bed, particularly after the EFOG group left on Friday. There was an ink-black, coal-black, black, black, black day in Maple Ward in Newham when I was told the extent of the damage needing to be repaired, that it would be eight days before parts and time could be arranged for an operation, and that my life might be changed a bit afterwards. Fingal's Cave on StaffaThat happened to be one of a few days whilst I was back "home" (at least in Newham) when I had not a single visitor; that's right - from my vast range of friends, not a single visitor! People have their own illnesses, cares and lives these days, and there it is. Just as I write these words the hospital chaplain has come in. He is a High-Church of England Priest, with down-to-the-ankle cassock, cross on a chain, sympathetic smile and hands crossed reverential-style at his stomach. He tells me that he has been praying for me. That helps, I  suppose - but what more significantly and practically has helped are those of my friends that have been able to visit from time to time, and those who have sent messages by text. Thanks - sincerely thanks - to all.

Now to the future. My Consultant - a walker and outdoor enthusiast himself, as it happens - tells me that after a VERY major operation lasting nearly five hours, I have made remarkable progress. That is because I am fit, you see - and because I don't want to go to Iguana-hell. I suspect the doctor's crack about sending him a photo of me at the top of Snowdon may never be fulfilled; that may be an ambition too far. But the Beckton Alps is a definite possibility.

Walking in town, visiting Wanstead Park, walking along the green rides of Epping Forest, these I shall probably be able to manage. But Essex mud and the curse-of-mankind stiles, they might defeat me after all. Taking up Molly-dancing, like I should have, is probably not a good idea. Will I move, marry, settle down? Well it could happen, but there are years of past experience there in which those haven't happened...

I am home, and I have to exercise and practise a variety of what should be straightforward procedures. I have a lot of work to do towards an indeterminate future.

Paul Ferris   29th June 2014