A mouth full of stitches

My last blog was written as I sat waiting for some dental surgery yesterday so I guess this is as good a time as any for an update. Update - it didn't go well........

The job at hand was explained to me by the surgeon as "no problem". A couple of big teeth from the back and a root that my dentist couldn't get out. Turns out the back teeth were fairly straight forward, a few stitches that I'm told will happily dissolve in time and a bit of a sore mouth, easy life eh? The root however was very much a different story.

While digging it out they somehow managed to put a hole through to my sinus. That was I must admit, enough for me. Yet some how my most gifted surgeon then managed to lose the afore mentioned root. Not sure where it went he told me, hoping its not gone in one of your lungs. Me to I fucking thought.

Two trips to xray and the missing root proved elusive enough for the finest medical minds to call it a day and send me home. Now I'm left with the oddest of feelings, a mouth full of stitches and a direct passage through my gums into my sinus and out of my nose. That and a big pile of antibiotics as I wait for the impending infection that is sure to follow.   

Its always ok.

So I made it, forty-four years old. The folks who have known me for a while will for sure understand what a truly surprising thing that is. This all happened a few days ago and as is life, I've now moved on. The novelty of hitting 44 was as it should be, short lived. The focus of my attention has changed.

Today I find myself sat in Poole Hospital waiting to go into surgery and have some teeth pulled out. Nothing major, just a quick general anaesthetic, an hour in recovery then all being well homeward bound. That's the plan in the real world, but not in my head, no sir, not in my head.

It's funny how quickly I can move on from the gratitude of hitting 44 to the mental paranoia that sits waiting patently in the back of my head. Truth is its ok, it's always ok. I sit here listening to a share on the Twelve Concepts for World Service, knowing I have a place in this world. That's ok.

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As simple and as wonderfull as my life gets.

Every minute that goes by tonight gets me just a little closer to tomorrow morning, the morning when all being well I will wake up a forty four year old. Forty four years old!!! I'm led to believe I'm gona peak any time soon, just hope I don't miss it.

So with that in mind I was talking to someone today who asked that age old question, what ya doing for your Birthday. My answer was quite frankly boring and dull.

I'd like to hit the recline button on my trusty arm chair and watch some TV with the boy. Latter perhaps a trip to the local harvester for a bit to eat, maybe even some ice cream. Life in the fast lane sure ain't what it used to be.

Who knows, the day might not pan out the way I hope. Maybe I'll end up taking a trip to Clifton and bungee jumping from the suspension bridge. Some how I doubt it, not in these pants.

I picked up my guitar and played tonight, it was good.

I've never been a great guitarist,  or even an average guitarist if truth be told. Yet despite that I still get a feeling of ease and comfort just about every time I pick one up. Seems no matter what is going on in my little world, my guitar has the power to gently pull me away to a world of my own.

This was not always the case. I remember many years ago getting myself a most wonderful Fender Telecaster. To me this was truly a thing of desire. I always wanted one, and now I had arrived. Clearly I was set to make Robert Johnson sound like some sort of half rate strummer who could hardly play a note.

I would of course be able to do this because I now owned a mighty Telecaster. I never practised or took time to learn, I just looked and imagined how great I would one day be. Funnily enough, no matter how hard I imagined and how hard I looked, I never seemed to get any better. Nor did the amount of money I spent on the thing seem to make my playing any better. (Note to self, amend still owed to the person who paid for that guitar)

So what's changed twenty odd years on? What's changed is I no longer think I can be great at anything without putting in at least a little effort. Even then I'm fairly sure I'm never gona be much more then average in most things. The thing is, and this is an open secret, I'm really, really happy with average. Good enough truly is good enough for me now.

The end result is I get to do the things I do in life with a certain degree of satisfaction. Never needing to be great has given me the freedom to be ever so slightly outstanding once in a great while. The rest of the time I get to be mostly average and general happy. I picked up my guitar and played tonight, it was good.

Don't put your head in toilet seats

Even taking into account the job I have and the clients I work with, the call I received from Mrs D at lunch time today was odd to say the least. The boy has his head stuck in a toilet seat she proudly announced, and I can't get it off.  Mrs D then went on to tell me that she had what could possibly amount to a cunning plan. She was going to butter the boy to within an inch of his life and simply slide the offending item form his head.

A progress report five minutes latter confirmed  the butter ploy had failed and the boy was still stuck fast. Not only was he stuck fast, he was more the slightly aggrieved at his Mothers effort to pull his head off.

At this point I managed to stop giggling just long enough to spring into action. On route I dropped in to B&Q and grabbed a saw. I've got to say it took all I had to keep quiet about the task that lay ahead, but keep quiet I did.

In truth Jack didn't seem his usual cheerful self when I got home, In fact he seemed quite miserable. Despite this I resisted the temptation to leave him to wallow and, saw in hand, I set about freeing my son from the ring of misery.

Surprisingly enough it went quite well. Within a few minutes the boy was free and un marked. With not so much as a thanks he was off and that was that.  It did however get me thinking, as such things most surely can.

The uncertainty of life really is quite a thing and you really never know what is round the corner. If someone had told me this morning I would be cutting the boy free from a toilet seat by lunch time I may well have doubted them, yet I was.

I'm sure there is a message here somewhere, I'm just not sure what it is. Don't put your head in toilet seats I guess.

Dr. Bob’s Farewell Address

“My good friends in AA and of AA, I feel I would be very remiss if I didn’t take this opportunity to welcome you here to Cleveland, and not only to this meeting but to those that have already transpired.  I hope very much that the presence of so many people and the words that you have heard will prove an inspiration to you - not only to you, but may you be able to impart that inspiration to the boys and girls back home who were not fortunate enough to be able to come.  In other words, we hope that your visit here has been both enjoyable and profitable.

I get a big thrill out of looking over the vast sea of faces like this with a feeling that possibly some small thing I did a number of years ago played an infinitely small part in making this meeting possible.  I also get quite a thrill when I think that we all had the same problem.  We all did the same things.  We all get the same results in proportion to our zeal and enthusiasm and stick-to-itiviness.  If you will pardon the injection of a personal note at this time, let me say that I have been in bed five of the last seven months, and my strength hasn’t returned as I would like, so my remarks of necessity will be very brief.

There are two or three things that flashed into my mind on which it would be fitting to lay a little emphasis.  One is the simplicity of our program.  Let’s not louse it up with Freudian complexes and things that are interesting to the scientific mind, but have very little to do with our actual AA work.  Our Twelve Steps, when simmered down to the last, resolve themselves into the words “love” and “service”.  We all understand what love is, and we understand what service is.  So let’s bear those two things in mind.

Let us also remember to guard that erring member the tongue, and if we must use it, let’s use it with kindness and consideration and tolerance.

And one more thing:  None of us would be here if somebody hadn’t taken time to explain things to us, to give us a little pat on the back, to take us to a meeting or two, to do numerous little kind and thoughtful acts on our behalf.  So let us never get such a degree of smug complacency that we’re not willing to extend, or attempt to extend, to our less fortunate brothers that help which has been so beneficial to us.

Given at:

AA’s First International Convention

Cleveland, Ohio

July 30, 1950

Dr. Bob succumbed to cancer on November 16, 1950.

The need to get over ourselves and get on.

"Experience shows that few alcoholics will long stay away from a group just because they don't like the way it is run. Most return and adjust themselves to whatever conditions they must. Some go to a different group, or form a new one. In other words, once an alcoholic fully realizes that he cannot get well alone, he will somehow find a way to get well and stay well in the company of others." Bill W., Letter, 1943 c.1967AAWS, As Bill Sees It, p. 312

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Marco Simoncelli and Kitty's Wishing Tree.

I'm a motor sport fan, I love fast cars and I love fast bikes. Always have done, ever since I was a little kid. As a result you can more or less guarantee where I'll be on a F1 or Moto GP race weekend. I hit the reline button on my chair and accompanied by my Son Jack I kick back. This is how it was today as we settled down to watch the Malaysian GP. A race that was to be stopped in the second lap in the most tragic of circumstances. A race where 24 year old Marco Simoncelli was to lose his life.

 A giant of a man who road a GP bike in a blaze of pokey out knees and elbows. He also had a huge, some would say mighty, head of hair. But Christ could he ride a bike.

It's an odd thing how as we become followers of various folk, we develop some kind of attachment. That's how it is with me, that's how come I cried this morning when Marco Simoncelli died, the same way I did in 1994 when Ayrton Senna died. It's times like this when it would be easy to feel down and ask that age old question, Why?

This afternoon we all jumped in the car and set off for a Sunday afternoon walk. Not really having much of a plan we ended up wondering through some local woods and came across "Kitty's Wishing Tree".

I have absolutely no idea who Kitty is (or possibly was) but stumbling across this tree covered in the wishes of so many before us really did warm my heart, even the one that said "I wish saleem was dead".

You see this is, as far as I can see, it. We live our lives and we make our wishes, once in a great while they come true. Sometimes when they come true great things happen, sometimes tragic things and sometimes nothing. The point is if we let then our wishes can be wonderful amazing things. We show up, we do our best and we deal with the consequences, good or bad.

   

Just something I like

"Let us never fear needed change.
Certainly we have to discriminate between changes for worse
and changes for better.
But once a need becomes clearly apparent
in an individual, in a group, or in AA as a whole,
it has long been found out that we cannot stand still
and look the other way.
The essence of all growth is a willingness
to change for the better
and then an unremitting willingness
to shoulder whatever responsibility this entails." 

Bill W., July 1965

c.1967AAWS, As Bill Sees It, p. 115

The 'we' version.

Anyone who has ever attended a Twelve Step meeting will be most familiar with the Serenity Prayer. We say it time and time again. I wonder however, how many say it as it is written in the 12x12. The 'we' version of this wonderfully prayer, for me, rounds up what the whole thing is about. Alone I'm screwed, together in fellowship I have a chance. Don't be surprised if you see a nice big, new 'we' version of the serenity prayer next time you get to Ringwood on a Thursday night.

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I still find the misfortune of others hilarious

It's odd that after almost nine years trying to become a spiritual giant I still find the misfortune of others hilarious. A man who has been mistakingly popping his post in a dog shit bin is for me truly side splitting. As is a man walking into a lamppost or falling down a manhole. I hope I never stop laughing as such things.

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As if it's gona be different,

It's been a few hours, a few long and painful hours. Tonight I've been mostly trying to install iso 5 on my iphone. Those of you who know will appreciate the importance of this. Time and time again it has failed and time and time again I have continued trying as if it's gona be different, It wasn't. I know (or at least I think I know) what I need to do but I'm buggered if I can work out how to do it. How do I find and then delete the downloaded ios from itunes so I can start again and hopefully get rid of the glitch? Fucked if I know.

So here I sit with a head full of high class problems wondering how I'm going to get to sleep no having iso 5 on my phone. Then out of nowhere it hits me, what the fuck am I doing? what the fuck am I thinking?

You see when I finally got clean I made a deal. I'll give of myself as freely as I can at any given point for as long as I can at any given point. Simple. This of course was long before iso 5, of iso of any sort. Nevertheless the guiding principle remains the same. Get the fuck out of self and I'll be ok.

So far up our own arse holes

Our public relations policy is based on attraction rather than promotion; we need always maintain personal anonymity at the level of press, radio, television and films. 

It's a funny old Tradition that one. Of course I understand why it's needed and I know the history behind it's development. However, it seems to me that the overwhelming desire to get so far up our own arse holes can easily prevent us from carrying the message that saved our lives.

Anonymous and secret are different things. As readers of this blog know, I've been in recovery for a number of years now and an active member of a Twelve Step fellowship. The link below will take you to the Cocaine Anonymous 2012 World Convention page. Have a look, it's gona be quite a thing. 

http://www.cawsconvention.org/index.html 

Come and have a look

This turned out to be a woefully foolish mistake.

You can either have a filling or I can simply pull the tooth, that's what he said, "simply pull the tooth".
Now, as some of you know, I'm a lover of all things simple so with this in mind I instructed my trusty Dentist to as he said "simply pull the tooth". This turned out to be a woefully foolish mistake.

In truth I should have ran for the hills when he told me it was turning out to be harder then first thought. Of course by then it was far to late. Three roots on this tooth he said and it's not keen on coming out, not fucking keen? not fucking keen!!!

The conversation then took what I believe to be a turn for the worst. The man with the pliers explained he was going to need to cut my tooth into three parts and take one bit at a time with its corresponding root.  Few words can express the joy such a statement evokes. In truth my regret was only increased when after an hour he started working on the third and final remaining root and told me it had fused to the bone and would have to stay where it was. Probably won't give you any trouble in the future though he said. This from the same man who told me an hour earlier he could simply pull the tooth. I have to say I'm not filled with hope, not even slightly.

So here I am two days latter still feeling like I've been kicked in the face and wondering to my self why I trusted the man in the white coat with the face mask on. What is it that makes anyone trust such a person? especially when he's heading towards your mouth with a pair of pliers?