Tag: Optimism

King of Wishful Thinking

A nearly full glass, soon to be made half full – or possibly half empty…

I will begin with a very quick note, to apologise for my absence from your ‘reader’ stats and comment boards of late: I could explain but, frankly, it really is not your burden to bear.  Things are settling; I will be back soon I hope.  Meantime, thank you all for continuing to read my drivel during this absence.

When I was a boy I knew, as all boys did, that everything was going to turn out for the very best.  It went without saying that I would make a more-than-comfortable living from writing sit-coms and screenplays.  My house would have a swimming pool, a full-size snooker table and one of those chocolate bar dispensing machines that did not need coins.  It seemed well within the realms of possibility that I would become famous from appearing in my own films (before, inevitably it seems, deciding that I couldn’t be bothered with all the graft involved and, instead, started appearing in any old shite my agent might offer me as long as the money was right).  I was at an age that meant that I couldn’t completely rule out the prospect of becoming tall, handsome and charismatic.  Not completely.  In my mind I will always struggle to rule out the possibility that all things will end well: however slim, the chance is always there.  Optimism, like getting back to your feet after kneeling for five minutes, is so much easier when you are young.  The fact that I am neither tall, handsome nor charismatic is down to genetics, and the fact that I am neither rich nor successful is down to… well, whatever it is down to, it is definitely not my fault.

I suppose it only right to admit that I am generally not viewed by those around me as one of life’s optimists.  I do believe in the ‘goodness’ of humankind, and I totally believe in the power of ‘good’.  I just can’t help feeling that it might have taken its eye of the ball a little bit just now.  I refuse to be pessimistic about a future world that will contain my children and my grandchildren – I know that at least a very small part of it will be good – but ‘making a difference’ seems impossibly hard sometimes.

We are all passengers on this beautiful blue careering spacecraft of ours; unfortunately none of us are driving it.  Those at the wheel are either drunk on over-the-limit ego, or blinded by the on-coming lights of something much bigger.  This is Big Shit: only the vastness of everything can save us (Little Shit, as we all know, is solved by a Cadbury’s Crème Egg) there is so much potential for a near-miss.  Or is that wishful thinking?

And if I wish to stop it all
And if I wish to comfort the fall
It’s just wishful thinking… Wishful Thinking – China Crisis (Daly/Lundon)

…Oh, and the difference between optimism and wishful thinking?  Well, whilst optimism separates the ‘glass half full peoplefrom the ‘glass half empty’s, wishful thinking supposes that there is just the faintest of possibilities that the glass could, just conceivably, be completely full.  (The realist, incidentally, recognises that should that ever prove to be the case, it would inevitably get knocked over onto the crotch of your white trousers.)  If I’m honest, I seldom expect the best to happen, although I do always hope for better and if it still looks bad, I stock up on bottled water, close my eyes and think positive thoughts…

… I’ll get over you, I know I will
I’ll pretend my ship’s not sinking
And I’ll tell myself I’m over you
‘Cause I’m the king of wishful thinking… King of Wishful Thinking – Go West (Page/Cox/Drummie)

Ennui Through Mayhem

The title comes from a phrase that I used in a Covid Christmas post (Festive Planning Principles) something like a lifetime (and 3 lockdowns) ago.  I like it and it seems a shame to waste it, especially as it sums up how my life has been the last few days.  ‘Listless’ might also work, but is far less fun.  The cause of this particular bout of languorous mental inactivity was the impending ultrasound scan which is now in the past, and the results which – although requiring an extra pair of hands (called away from the nearby computer screen) to extrapolate (I did not enquire why) – were good.  ‘Very healthy’ said the lady with the scanner and the gel, and a weight lifted from my wizened shoulders, only to re-descend a few minutes later when I remembered that the two practitioners who huddled for an unseemly amount of time over the screen to the side of me, just millimetres out of my vision, repeatedly muttered the word ‘bifurcation’ during their deliberations into what, exactly, they were looking at.  What is a bifurcation and why did its presence necessitate a lengthy second opinion?  What if the scan result – ref the whatever-it-was they were looking for – was very healthy, but the bifurcation was bad news?  What if they were not allowed to tell me what they had found because it was not what they had been tasked to look for?  What if I was unlikely to make it home anyway, so no point in upsetting me with bad news?

Of course, I know what a bifurcation is now – I looked it up the very second I left the surgery.  The question that remains is whether that which is – inconveniently it would seem for the purposes of an AAA* scan – bifurcating within my torso, is doing so as per general guidelines or has gone rogue?  Do I have a subdivision where no subdivision should rightly be?  Has someone upgraded my main aortal access to a dual carriageway whilst I slept and, if so, why?  I know how bad a road has to get before the local council upgrades it (with one man, a spade and a bucketful of tar): I would dread to think that my arterial network could be in anything like the state of the roads around here.

They both seemed to be perfectly content to send me on my way without feeling the need to press the number of a local paramedic into my sweaty palm.  I did ask if there was a problem, but they both just said ‘No, you’re fine lovey’ – all well and good, although not exactly addressing my concerns, and I know what you are thinking – and you are indisputably right – I am merely squeezing every ounce of optimism out of good news and finding myself with something else to worry about.  Did they see something in there that had only previously been known to live within John Hurt?  They said that they would be writing to my GP – I presume on a professional, rather than personal basis – so I am certain that they would pass on any concerns they may have had at that stage: ‘patient has a bifurcation that may well not be ideal, particularly when attempting to see beyond it on a scan’.  Anyway, you know what it’s like when a medical professional gives you good news, you get out of there before they have the chance to change their mind.

Besides these are professional and caring people, they would have told me anything I needed to know there and then, and what they told me was that my measurements were ‘A very healthy 1.5cm.  This is a one-off scan and you won’t need any more.’  There is no bad news at all in that, is there?  All is well on the Abdominal Aortic Aneurysm front.  I’m sure that if I have bifurcation issues I will get to hear about them in due course.  Perhaps they’ll invite me for a scan…

*Abdominal Aortic Aneurysm