Where D'Ya Go, Rho? Ep4 The Meeting At The Last Chance Saloon

I am absolutely terrified. I have been awake all night and my extremities are freezing cold as panic has sent all my blood to keep my palpitating heart from stopping dead. Why has my fight and flight system got me on alert? It’s my first venture out to a week long course at Gartnavel Hospital for those with Long Term Health conditions.

Despite being awake I am exhausted and not physically up for getting my good gear on. On days like this I have a few articles of clothing that are my fail safe. I wear a plain black top, smarter than a plain tshirt but not fancy by any stretch of the imagination. Speaking of stretch, I pair that with black wide leg elasticated trousers. A stage up from leaving the house Govan Style, traipsing the toon with jammies on and dignity aff. These are comfy like pyjamas but allow me to leave the house and venture up to Gartnavel without someone calling security to say that one of the mental patients is out on the loose without a carer in tow.

I can’t be arsed with makeup or doing the hair so it’s a quick run through with a brush just enough to hide the kinks in my hair and cover the coo lick and I'm on my way. (Just as a note I did brush my teeth and wash my face because I have a bar- a low one but I have one. If not going out sometimes they may be skipped). If only I could take my dog, Bella with me. My black shih tzu who I adopted at sight from a wee wummin in Warrington who had too many in her pack and Bella was the runt of them. She was anxious and scared but on first sniff she and I became fast friends. She saw me through the pandemic and much of this funk with her warm fur by my side for comfort. She may have been unwanted but to me she was worth the world. I wasn’t supposed to be getting a dog, Bella to my knowledge had already been rehomed by a member of her family so I write it off as not meant for me. I was down in Leeds for a work thing and my heart leapt when the woman contacted me after I enquired weeks before to say that she was available for rehoming again. Was I still keen? Mark didn’t want me to get another animal but my cat was getting old and my other cat had been seduced into living with the neighbours so hadn’t darkened our door except for extra helpings of food. I phoned to ask if I could and before he hung up he moaned “You’ll do what you bloody well want, I don’t know why you phoned”. My rationale was what's the harm of having a look? The dog may not take to me and it’s not that far out my way home to just take a peep.

We were friends at first sniff. Even the guy who was her current caretaker concurred that we seemed to be pals from the off. I gathered her few belongings, paid the man his money and left with my wee black ball of fur. She slept soundly in my denim jacket as I clapped her up the M6, the M74, and M8, my new mate off to her new home. Since then she has been the canine companion I hoped she would be. She makes me laugh, moves me even when I can't be arsed and was my pandemic pal when I shielded from the world, away from my husband and kids in a cold caravan by the coast to escape the dreaded Rona. I left my wee fluffy pal sleeping where my body heat had just been in my bed while this Rhona dreaded the outside world again.

Every day I am thankful for my wheels. My red Toyota Corolla is my sanctuary no matter my mood. The heated seat warms my bones whether freezing in sub zero numbers or cooking in the sweltering sun. It relaxes me in body and soul and prevents me from having to brave public transport when I can’t face human interaction, let alone the colourful creatures on the number 9 hurtling up and down Paisley Road West of a day. Sometimes cripdom has its perks and today is one I am glad to be in the club. My Motability motor filled full of freedom and calm and devoid of anyone reeking of pish and not yet had their methadone. Thankfully, I had been for a try before leaving the house and was topped up with dihydrocodeine so while I was not looking or feeling my best I was at least socially acceptable for where I was headed.

My music choices in the car are often an indicator of my internal balance. The jukebox is either a car karaoke blasting banger after singalong banger that I can shake the cobwebs one chorus at a time or is a sombre soundtrack of lyrics that pierce the soul with poignancy and speak to my inner monologue like a dialogue. Today, I needed comfort and joy. Anyone who knows me knows I am a huge Travis fan and have been for over 25 years. My colours are pinned to the mast as my only tattoo is one of a Travis star logo. They have been a source of identity since my uni days and I am lucky to have picked up more than just an album or two in my years of devotion to the band. I have collected a fair few pals along the way who share my love for the band. My best find was Pamela, whose family took me in as one of their own as we toured the UK in my wee motor going to gigs fuelled on cheese toasties from Pam’s Mam, Margaret to keep us warm while we queued for hours in all weathers to see Travis play. We would sit patiently in hope of catching the band before soundcheck or after the gig with numb bums but happy to endure it for a few minutes with one of the best bands in the world.

We loved them especially because they were approachable and just normal to chat with. Some fans would be overcome with emotion or some just a bit mad screaming “I love you Fran” right in Fran’s face. We preferred to hang back on the pavement sitting by the kerb until all the keen folk had their turn. I was even loathed to even ask for a photo as they were the band I wanted to hang for a pint with no frighten off by becoming the fan that fantasies about getting in about their underpants, follows them to hotels in hope of a groupie grope or raids their bins like a rabid raccoon. Nah, I was up for a Tennents or a cuppa tea and the chance to shoot the breeze with my beloved band. I wanted to tell them how their music has gotten me through both the best of times and the worst by singing songs that connected to me in a primal way.

Today I needed soothing as I ventured out into uncharted waters so for that I called upon St Alban, the band formed by guitarist Andy Dunlop of Travis fame and a fellow Travis fan, Northern Irish musician Peter McVeigh. Peter is a fab singer and their version of Travis’ The Sea is perhaps even better than the original (don’t worry, Fran yer still awesome). The self-titled album is all based around being a travelling musician and how it’s much like the life of a sailor, out at sea for months at a time, missing home but loving life on the ocean and the inability to be too long away from the waves before needing to get back on a voyage.

I felt the connection today. I didn’t want to drown in this abyss of nothing, to sink, dragged down by my loss of identity. I needed to grab the lifebelt offered to me by the NHS to explore where I’ve been cast away to. I needed the comfort of community after being set adrift for so long. After a few tunes I was remembering to breathe again and my panic was subsiding a little. I was nearing the hospital from Anniesland and while reluctant at the prospect of leaving the safety of my levels were rising again and I felt the air leaving the bottom of my lungs as i hyperventilated out the top third only.

“Calm down wee yin, it’s okay.” I told myself. “ Look at what’s around you. Ground you. Look at the trees- naked and leafless, embarrassed and cold. Look at the pond- calm and still waters but stagnant and lifeless. Look at the the dog- a black lab strolling confident and curious sniffing away without a care in the world. That’s it, Rhona focus on the pretty pup on the lead. The dog is without concern, he is there for the journey and happily nosing his way around only focusing on the smell at hand, one sniff at a time taking great time up the Great Western Road on this muggy Monday morning.” The traffic lights kept me still as the red shone on, so my mind wandered on and then I decided to look a bit beyond the dog to the lead and up to who was leading this calm and collected canine customer for his daily daunder to the park. The person was lanky, skinny and dressed all in black. Black boots, black jeans, black jacket, black tshirt all bar a tartan scarf. NO WAY! I know that dug… I know that Doug… It’s Dougie Payne, the bassist from Travis! What a wee world it is. That’s his cool canine, Iggy. I was amazedly giggling to myself when Dougie looked up and spotted what was clearly a mad thing staring at him and his dog out the window. Having been to literally hundreds of gigs I knew he knew me so couldn’t disguise my still unwashed bright red hair, red toyota corolla and now red face of embarrassment. Christ, I had a personalised number plate. I can’t deny the WEE ROO plate wasn't this wee Roo. I have had the plate nearly as long as I’ve been a Travis fan so I was caught red handed, looking like a right stalker. I looked him straight in the face and gave him a wave. What else could I do?

Thankfully the lights changed to green, I was able to turn, turn, turn…turn, turn, turn the corner into Gartnavel and I was gone. Dougie and Iggy were on their way and I was coming to the CIC with a smile. A smile to the God of coincidence who made me realise I am not alone in the world and while I was alone in the car I was surrounded by familiarity and folks that felt like family after all this time. All I had to do was get out of the car and face this new fear.

The Centre for Integrative Care is slightly different from the main hospital so I was warmly greeted by reception and directed to the group room. I like to avoid being too early to appointments like these as I can build my anxiety up to such a pitch that I about turn and leave, so I was bang on time but last to enter the group. There were 7 people sitting on comfy reclining chairs. No expense has been spared here. There is one empty away at the back and I am led to it by the facilitator. I am looking down and trying not to make eye contact with anyone. The only thing stopping me from wringing my hands was the crutch in one of them.

As most group events go, the initial icebreaker is to do the old Blind Date intro. What’s yer name and where do you come from? From the get go the first guy to speak is a voice I find familiar. I can’t place the face of this bearded man as he is clearly out of contact but as everyone takes their turn to say their name, I ponder. As I introduce myself, the guy looks back with a similar quizzical look to mine. Recognition but out of place.

I put it aside as we get into session and we are guided through the week's events. We would explore mindfulness, the various types of breathing we could try. It’s not just in or out you know. You can box breathe, belly breathe, nostril breathe, try 4-7-8 breathing, lion breathing, breathe with resonance and breathe through pursed lips. Who would have known there was a smorgasbord of choice to fill yer lungs.

We would explore movement, something I was not looking forward to given that I am as stiff as the tin man in the Wizard of Oz so unless the course comes with a can of Castrol GTX then I’m not sure how much movement they’ll get from me. Unless they wanna talk about anxiety. If they try to make me leave the house in a hyper state of anxiety I can give them a bowel movement of epic proportions.

At the first interval the penny finally drops where I know the strange beardy man from. Our kids went to nursery together. I know him, his kids and his wife and even shared a fake Christmas dinner with them at my best pal’s house. Her kids went to the same nursery too. Small world. The beard was new and he like many in the class were burnt out NHS workers. Covid seems to have claimed many and some were experiencing Disabling conditions for the first time. They were angry and frustrated at the Government and the system but clearly loved the work that they did. Some were paramedics who were now struggling to perform as their breath couldn't catch and they were now feeling the pressure of an absence system that wanted them back or threatened their position if they couldn’t. Who is clapping for these guys now? Pan rattling and thank yous doesn’t help these heroes now does it?

I did feel a theme in the room- a strong work ethic mixed with care for doing things right then when ill health comes into play finding out the employer does not care and will fill your post in a defibrillated heartbeat if you don’t step up. There is only so much pressure a person can take.

Now, I could write about all the ins and outs of the course but I think like me you’d be, I already know this. We did too but knowing and actually taking the time to do something are two very different things. Just being in a room together taking time to focus on ourselves without guilt, shame or judgement was refreshing.

The most eye opening thing for me was not the course itself but the introduction of a possible new treatment by my bearded friend. He had undergone bereavement and was becoming angry with next to no provocation. This was definitely not like his old self. He said he was on CBD gummies and showed me a bag of colourful jelly teddy bears in a clear ziplock bag. They looked like a kids pick n mix, nothing out of the ordinary. However he spent time telling me about his own CBD journey and the company he chooses to use and why. He advised me to explore the topic myself.

I had already dipped a toe in by reading up about it and chatting with pals who used CBD or cannabis but not sure who was best. He explained he was on quite strong ones and felt they provided him with relief. I explained my main motivation was pain relief but if it could close the anxious and negative chatter in my brain then it would be a godsend.

By the next break he gave me a wee bag filled with enough gummies for a few days. He said it would be worth a try so I decided what the hell…and I took one.

Nothing happened…and still nothing happened and more nothing…until…something happened. I was in my reclining chair and felt a wash of calmness come over me. A relaxing warmth and a looseness in my muscles that could have been the class itself and could be a fluke but I felt comfortable, in my body comfy is king, so feeling comfy at anytime is a win.

Due to my rare connective tissue disorder that causes fractures and injury regularly, I am someone who knows the difference between muscle, bone and nerve pain, pain is my daily background noise so to speak. Comfy though is a treat, a rare commodity, a welcome relief. I wondered” Is it the chair? Is it the surroundings?”Is it a coincidence?” I didn’t know but one gummy bear was not a definitive test but for me and how I am feeling it’s a start. It was a blessed change from feeling tin man tight to loosey goosey in a matter of an hour or so. Was this the Castrol GTX I needed.

Who knows? But I am willing to follow the yellow brick road and find out.

NB. This blog is written based on past events rather than at the moment it occurred (to be honest I didn’t have the will to type or think back then).

The CBD journey has been immense. This is not an exaggeration. I removed my pain meds and my anti depressants from the equation (the GP was due to remove my anti depressants anyway and I was reducing them down). I needed to see if the CBD was working or it was placebo. The few days I was given tided me over until I could get my own supply. I used the same supplier and take the strongest edible gummies they do. I researched the different types of contents, the recommended daily doses of CDB and the types of CBD you can get such as full spectrum, broad spectrum etc.

It’s taken a number of weeks into months but I am now opioid free after nearly 30 years of daily painkillers and anti inflammatories. Drugs that over time,while necessary, rot yer gut and can cause other issues that risk your health. You only have to look at the A4 page that comes with your meds. That tiny small print writing that legally gets them off the hook but reads like a medical horror.

I’ve had a few nights where I have struggled from an injury but in total I have taken 4 dihydrocodeine since giving them up. Some of them were due to being away from home and not have gummies but having a med stash in a bag. I used to take 8 in a day and still be wincing in pain if I had done myself a mischief but now I take 1-2 gummies per day so anything between 68 to 134mg of CBD per day and this is enough to take the edge off. If I'm sore my hot water bottles will ease my pain a bit further.

My mood is different, still fragile and still low but not what it was. The cost is approximately £40 a month. Yeah, maybe some CBD oil in addition would help but the results from gummies alone is a massive change. I just wish my old man had been alive to have tried these. I would love to have seen the change in his outlook, from a man who used unhealthy, destructive habits to self medicate. I now understand his journey and his frustrations but I couldn’t follow the same path. I have forked off onto another road and this is far more interesting. So follow, follow, follow, follow, follow the yellow brick road with me and see if I’m on the right track to finding me or if like Judy it was all just a dream.