Communion Of Dreams


Machado-Joseph Disease: brief update

As the title indicates, this is just a brief update for those following this story.

I’m still waiting for the paperwork for the genetic test to come through. This isn’t surprising, since the local large-institution university hospital which shall remain nameless moves at the speed of most bureaucratic institutions. It could show up any time, or not for weeks. We’ll see.

Since there isn’t any kind of ‘cure’ for MJD, and the disease progresses slowly, I think that unfortunately the medical community doesn’t tend to think that it is a pressing issue. If I had some kind of cancer, or a serious heart problem, testing and treatment discussions would have been much more aggressive. I know — I’ve had a serious heart problem.

I noted in my last blog post that I have no intention of continuing care with the Neurologists at the local large-institution university hospital which shall remain nameless. I have also decided that I need to take my own care into my hands for at least the time being, until I have the test results back and arrange for a new neurologist. I know what treatments are typically used to manage the symptoms of MJD patients, as well as what my family members have found helpful, at least in the early stages of the disease, and I have taken steps to use the same/similar treatments. If it turns out that I don’t have MJD, none of these steps will cause problems.

So right now everything is about mitigation. My balance and flexibility exercises have already shown positive results. The Restless Leg/Arm Syndrome continues to show up periodically. Hand cramping and tremors still happen, particularly after I have been using my hands for intense work. Episodes of vertigo still hit me, particularly when I rotate my head or bend over. Shooting pains and ongoing aches still happen in both hands and feet, though not usually at the same time.

And something new, that I don’t recall hearing about from any of my family, though it is a classic symptom of Type 3 of MJD: instances of blurry/double vision. This isn’t debilitating (at least not yet), and only happens when I am trying to focus on something up close, but it was very surprising and disorienting the first couple of times it happened. If you’ve ever worn multi-focal lenses, it kinda feels like that when you first put them on. I’ve since learned that simply shifting my focus further away resolves the problem instantly.

So that’s where things stand. While I wait for the test, I’m just doing my best to learn to cope with the symptoms. It’s been an interesting process of adjustment to my new reality, and again confirms just how plastic/adaptable humans can be.

Jim Downey



Machado-Joseph Disease: Changes in attitude, changes in longitude

Yeah, I know it doesn’t scan as well. But I don’t want a noted songwriter’s lawyers to sue me. And it’s more accurate for my use.

Yesterday my sister (who, as I’ve mention, has MJD) had her semi-annual check-in with her neurologist’s office, this time a virtual chat/exam with a staff Physician’s Assistant she hadn’t worked with previously. I popped over to St Louis so I could be with her for it, as it would give me a chance to see how it was done, have an introduction to the P.A., and get a direct handle on her current condition and challenges.

And I wanted to talk a little about the difference between this virtual session and my experience with the local large-institution university hospital which shall remain nameless. Obviously, I’m not going to get into health/medicine details, and I have cleared this with my sister.

The difference was striking. Rather than an almost patronizing “I know about this, because I’m the doctor” that was the overall vibe of my exam, the P.A. shared that she herself has M.S., and so personally understands the difficulties of having a neuro-muscular disorder which may be treatable, but for which there is no cure. Even with the limitations of a Zoom call, she exuded empathy, nodding as my sister described recent challenges and changes to her condition, discussing what meds have been working and which needed to be tweaked. They went over vital stats, overall health and wellness, chatted about the possibility of different kinds of therapies which might help, and so forth. The whole thing was personal, friendly, and very helpful.

Now, my sister has a diagnosis of MJD that has been confirmed by the genetic test, and a long care history with this neurologist and their staff. So none of that is an issue, whereas in my case things are still indeterminate (frustratingly so, as I’ve noted). So that’s certainly a very big difference between us, and the care we might expect to receive.

But as my sister was discussing her symptoms with the P.A., I couldn’t help but check off how I had a less severe version of most of them. And I couldn’t help but notice how the P.A. really listened to her, and her own assessment of how she was doing, what she was experiencing. Lastly, I couldn’t help but compare the care and attention she had received versus how I had been treated in my initial exam and in follow-up communications.

Now, you might think that comment is a little harsh, given what I said in this blog post. But I haven’t mentioned here that after that post, I received a response from the Attending Neurologist which … rather curtly doubled-down on the attitude of the initial assessment, and said they knew what they were doing, he knew more about the disease than I did, and that I was presymptomatic for MJD in all their tests, whatever I might happen to think I was experiencing. Though he did grudgingly allow that the genetic test may show something, and if so they’ll address that.

Well, actually, no, they won’t. Because once I have the test results, whatever they show, I’ll be finding a new neurologist. I’ve just seen the difference in how people can be treated, and I know which way I want to go.

Jim Downey



Machado-Joseph Disease: Nervous

I honestly didn’t expect this.

Arrangements have now been made for the genetic test I’ve been wanting, and now I’m nervous about it.

Yeah, sure, it makes sense that I might be nervous about finding out I have MJD. That’s perfectly understandable. But I’m also weirdly nervous about finding out that I don’t have MJD.

WTF?

See, there’s a part of me that, well, as I said previously:

So there’s some small doubt in my mind sometimes as to whether I actually have the disease, or if I’m just concocting it from a variety of lesser symptoms of normal aging and my own rather rough & tumble life. And boy, wouldn’t that be embarrassing? I mean, I’ve told all my family and friends that I’ve got this happening, I’ve posted about it on Facebook, I’ve blogged about it. What if I’ve just imagined it all? What if I’ve got a case of hypochondria going on?

After all the fuss I’ve caused. After all my own worrying. After troubling friends and family. If it turns out that I don’t have it …

Well.

< deep breath >

If it turns out that I don’t have it, I’ll have dodged a bullet. It’ll just mean that I have been overly vigilant, perhaps over-reacted to some aspects of normal aging. Yeah, that might be a little embarrassing. But I think anyone who has had a health scare will understand.

And, as a friend said recently, it’s not like I’ve just invented this disease out of whole cloth. The fact that five close family members have had it in my lifetime means that it is a reasonable thing to check out, once I detected symptoms which could indicate onset.

Sometime in the next couple of days I’ll have the blood draw, and that will be sent off to Massachusetts. I should have the results back in about a month.

Keep your fingers crossed.

Jim Downey



Machado-Joseph Disease: Self care.

Yesterday morning, after having had time to digest things from Monday, I sent a message to my “care team” at the local large-institution university hospital which shall remain nameless. It was a less accusatory and more distilled version of my last blog post, outlining my thoughts and concerns about how the assessment had gone.

Why?

Because in this day and age, you have to be your own best advocate as a patient.

And it worked: within two hours one of the neurologists called me directly to discuss my concerns. It was a good discussion, actually, with a fair amount of back-tracking and back-fill on his part, along with assurances that they really DO understand that this is something that needs proper and prompt attention. REALLY.

I expect, cautiously, that going forward things will be more a meeting of the minds rather than the doctors assuming that they have a monopoly of knowledge about this disease, and will pay more attention to what I say I am experiencing and think it means. But we’ll see.

And that touches on what I wanted to write about today: self care. Or, to borrow a phrase from my old economics textbooks, enlightened self interest.

There are good people in the world. In fact, as cynical an old bastard as I can sometimes be, I think that most people actually want to do the right thing in most situations. We’re a social, collaborative species.

And I think that most medical professionals want to do everything they can to help their patients as one of their basic motivations. Yeah, sure, a bunch of other motivations can also come into play, but I doubt that there are many medical professionals who are truly only in their job for the opportunity to lord it over others. But sometimes, in the stress and demands of their jobs, they need a reminder that you’re a person with a medical concern, and not just a medical puzzle to be solved. So, as I said, you have to be your own best advocate. Recognizing that fact after my experience Monday was an important step for me on this journey.

It also reminded me that I need to shift my thinking in some other ways. Specifically, that whatever I can do to improve my condition will just be a help dealing with it over the long haul. The last time that I learned this was after the stents were installed six years ago, and I had to go through cardio rehab, since about a third of my heart had never fully developed. That was a hassle. But it shifted my thinking, strengthened my heart, and gave me more strength and endurance than I’ve ever had in my life.

So this morning, for the first time in decades, I got back to doing my old martial arts exercises (adapted for my age and condition). The stretching and flexibility components will help me with the early stages of dystonia, and the katas and bo-staff work will aid greatly with my balance and coordination. They’re not going to reverse the effects of MJD, but they will help me make the most of the remaining abilities I have for as long as possible.

And while I was appalled by how inflexible I’ve become, and grateful that there was no one in the room watching me, it felt good to be doing something that I know will help. I had been considering taking up Tai Chi or yoga, but decided that the deep old knowledge I had from my years as a student and instructor of Jujitsu would give me comfort and would be one less barrier to making this a routine in my life, as my (almost) daily 3 mile walk has become since my stent procedure. And comfort is an important component of self care.

Jim Downey



Machado-Joseph Disease: Livin’ outside the norms.

This is going to be a hard post to write. It might be a hard post to read. In part because I’m probably going to come across as a pompous ass to at least some extent. And in part because it’s not yet resolved, so I don’t know where the story goes from here.

But when I made the decision to start writing about this experience, I told myself that I would be honest about it, the same way I was honest about the care-giving experience, however painful or embarrassing it might be. I know that honesty has helped other care-givers; I hope this honesty helps people who may be facing a diagnosis of ataxia or some similar condition, or who have struggled to get the medical care they need.

Yesterday I had my long-awaited neurological assessment at the local large-institution university hospital which shall remain nameless. I’ve mostly avoided medical care within this institution in the 30 years I’ve lived here. Oh, they have a solid reputation, and do a great deal of good both for the community and for medical science. But I had worked for five years at the large-institution university hospital where I went to grad school, and knew all too well what “Big Medicine” is like. That experience taught me that whenever possible, I should stick with independent doctors/medical groups, where there was less chance that I would be treated as a medical file and more chance that I would be treated as a person with a medical concern.

However, with something as rare as Machado-Joseph, I wanted to tap into the best pool of talent/knowledge I could. And that meant at least starting with the local large-institution university hospital system.

The assessment started out well enough, though I felt poorly from lack of sleep the previous couple of nights. The Intern Doctor came in, introduced himself, went over my file info with me, confirmed that I had been referred by my primary care doctor for an assessment for MJD. He then asked me why I thought I was experiencing the onset of the disease. I started by saying that I was a conservator of rare books and documents, so tended to be hyper-aware of how my hands functioned. This didn’t seem to register as anything different than if I told him I mowed lawns or something for a living.

About five weeks ago I wrote this:

I’ve never really defined myself in terms of my job, but it has always been one of the interesting things about me. Conservators are so rare that it’s always a talking point when I introduce myself to someone; they always ask about what sorts of things I work on, what’s the oldest/rarest/most valuable item, et cetera. Even surgeons, who seldom suffer from a self-esteem deficit, will pause and with a note of respect ask how I got into such a profession.

So … well, I was surprised at his lack of reaction. I then told him that I had been a highly accomplished martial artist and athlete in my 20s & 30, with exceptional reflexes, sense of balance, and eye-hand coordination. Again, he took this in stride, as though I’d just told him I played Little League Softball. I explained that I’d always had a heightened awareness of my body, and invariably knew when there was something wrong with it. As an example I told him about my experience with detecting a subtle problem with my heart, finding out that I had a congenital defect, and having the stents put in … when almost no one else would have noticed a problem (and, in fact, nothing has shown up in routine physical exams). Again, he nodded, as though I told him I’d once diagnosed a hangnail. Then he shuffled his papers and said, “Well, let’s do some tests, shall we?’

He ran me through a bunch of tests, checking balance, reflexes, body sense perception, eye tracking, hearing perception, hand movements, and a variety of other things I was unfamiliar with. I was shocked at how poorly I did at a number of these, even being aware that I had been having problems with some of them for months. When we finished, we sat down again, he looked over his notes and then back at me and said, “well, almost all of your tests are within normal parameters, and the ones that aren’t aren’t *that* bad. Are you sure you’re having a problem?”

I must’ve looked like an idiot. Lord knows I felt like one, sitting there, mouth agape. When I finally shook off the shock, I said “well, yeah. I have these pains, frequent urination, these tremors, hand spasms, etc etc etc …” and I ran through the list. Again.

He frowned, looked over my information again. “Well, I see you drink a lot*. That can cause problems. I think we should run some labs, maybe do an MRI. We can also do the genetic test for MJD, if insurance approves that. But I don’t think you have a big problem. Let me go consult with my Attending Physician, see what he says.”

Time passed. I was … bewildered. I honestly had not expected things to go like this. What was so OBVIOUS to me in terms of my changing abilities (and which my wife has likewise noticed), seemed … normal? I felt a little stunned. Well, more than a little, to be honest. I felt completely adrift.

A tap on the door, then the Attending Physician entered, followed by the Intern. It was NOT the Attending Physician I had been expecting. Evidently, something had come up, so this other person was handling cases today. He introduced himself. He was polite, and going off what the intern had told him, he started out the same way, asking why I thought there was a problem. I said that I knew there was a problem with how my hands were functioning because I’d been a conservator for 30 years, and losing control of my tools suddenly was not normal. That got his attention. I also explained that with my family history of MJD, both my sister and uncle had experienced very similar onset symptoms, etc etc.

He said that he’d had experience with MJD patients at a hospital back East where there was a large Portuguese population, and asked if I knew there was a Portuguese connection in my family. (Machado-Joseph is also known as Azorean Disease due to the high frequency in that population … but it is well known to occur in unrelated populations around the world.) I told him not to my knowledge. He then said that I “didn’t have the look” of someone with MJD. Meaning, I suppose, that I didn’t have the narrow face and protuberant dark eyes that many people (including my aunt and cousin) have. But neither my sister nor my uncle have/had those characteristics.

But he said that they’d put in for the genetic test, and that they’d get me a prescription for a beta-blocker to help with the hand tremors. Oh, and he chided me for drinking 2-3 scotches each night. Told me to cut back to just one. With that, he was out the door.

The Intern sat down, started making notes on the computer. He explained that they wanted me to have my B-12 levels checked with a blood test, just to be on the safe side, and instructed me where to go in the hospital complex to get that done. He confirmed which pharmacy I wanted to use for the beta-blocker. And he told me that he was leaving at the end of the month (next week), but that someone else would be in touch if they saw a problem with my labs or needed info for the genetic test. Otherwise, I’d probably be sent info from the hospital about how to have the genetic test done, where, and when.

Then, politely, he showed us out.

We went over and got the blood draw done. My mind seemed to slowly be coming back online as we walked, parts and pieces of the whole session coming back to me and starting to integrate. I was discussing it with my wife, who confirmed my recollections and understanding of what we’d just been through. But I felt completely bewildered and full of self-doubt when we got home. I wrote my sister and a couple of close friends, explained briefly what had just transpired.

* * *

Last night I took extra pain meds, crashed early, and got a decent night’s sleep. This morning I woke to an email response from my sister. We’re close, and she is fiercely loyal & loving. The email was furious that I’d had the experience I’d had, at least in part because she had almost the exact same thing happen to her some fifteen years ago when she first started experiencing the onset of MJD.

After thinking it all through again this morning, and in writing this, I’ve set aside the self-doubt. I know what I’ve experienced. I may or may not have MJD, that will likely only be determined by the genetic test. But I know that my balance has been compromised, that I have been experiencing a wide range of symptoms that point at MJD onset. Perhaps it is a mild case (I think this is most likely) and hopefully will progress slowly. But even in the last six months since I first noticed the symptoms, things have gotten worse.

And this is why I decided to write about this at such length. Because if I, a very privileged, highly educated, white, middle class professional man can be subject to such dismissal of a medical complaint, then I can only imagine how others without such advantages must fight for proper care.

This will not come as news to many people who are less privileged, or who exist at the margins of our society. Actually, it wasn’t news to me, either. But I thought it might prompt others to perhaps give it another thought.

Jim Downey

* As noted a month or so ago:

I’ve also noticed an uptick in the amount of alcohol I’m drinking. Self-medicating, in other words. Again, this does tend to cycle, with some times of the year it being a little higher (2-3 double Scotches in the evening) and other times lower (just 1 double, occasionally 2). Years ago I stopped worrying about it, after discussing it with my doctor, because she observed that it was probably healthier for me than increasing my use of even mild opioids (the Tramadol and codeine), so long as I didn’t develop an alcohol problem.



Machado-Joseph Disease: bitch, bitch, bitch

OK, this is going to sound like I’m complaining. And I am, to the extent that if this wasn’t bothering me I wouldn’t write about it. But I’m mostly writing about it as documentation: documentation for when I get the neurological assessment in a week, documentation for how things are now as a baseline to compare in the future, and documentation for anyone who wonders what this weird and rare disease is like. The truth is, presently all these elements are mostly just annoying rather than being really painful or debilitating. I’ve been so sick that I can’t get out of bed, and this ain’t it. I’ve been in significant pain where I can’t think of anything other than hurting and trying to make it stop; this ain’t that, either.

A lot of people have experienced Restless Leg Syndrome, a fairly common minor neurological disorder that isn’t very well understood. For me, it comes with a kind of itch or burning sensation, mostly on the surface of my lower legs and feet, that just makes me want to move them to avoid an unseen irritant. Now, this is one of the earliest symptoms I can point to, and it goes back at least six or seven years. Was it an indication of MJD onset, or just due to something else? Who knows. I will say that it has become more noticeable in the last few months, and now happens every day or two.

It’s also, weirdly, spread to my arms. Yeah. Exact same kinds of sensations, mostly confined to my forearms and the area around my elbows. I’ve never heard of this before, but one of the sites I checked about RLS mentions it happening to some people. I guess I qualify.

Something that is kinda like RLS, but is more intense, is a sharp, spike-like pain. It really does feel like I just stepped on a nail protruding from a plank. A nice, rough & rusty one like the one I remember as a kid, going through some dilapidated old house, that went through the sole of my tennis shoe, through my foot, and then out the top. Graphic memory, eh? Yup. And that was the exact same kind of pain I get with these spikes. These are usually a one-off, can happen to either foot, ankle or calf, or in my hands. I’ve joked with my wife that it’s just memories of my crucifixion as a rebellious slave. These are kinda rare, occurring a couple of times a week.

More common are unexpected cramps in the foot, leg, or hands. These are classic “Charlie Horse” type, and just about anyone who has over-exerted themselves at some point has experienced them. One of these happen every couple of days, and can be so intense that it leaves my affected muscle aching the next day or two. I’ve got a couple of sore feet right now due to this (one the bottom of the foot from last night, one the side of the ankle from a couple of days ago). This can also be triggered by using my hands in a repeated motion, like I do when doing book conservation. Or typing.

Related, but not as intense, is a “tightening” of the muscles/ligaments on the back of my hand or top of my feet. Makes it feel like it’s pulling my hands back towards my forearm or my feet towards my shins. Usually happens to both hands or both feet at the same time. Not really painful, just weird.

Then there are the twitches. Like a tic, or a spasm. These tend to come in clusters, lasting for a few minutes at a time, and usually just hit one hand or the other. Again, not particularly painful, but an annoying reminder that my body is not entirely under my conscious control.

I’d mentioned recently the problems with balance. Random vertigo happens rarely, but balance problem are one of the more consistent symptoms I’ve noticed. It happens when it’s dark and I don’t have a visual reference to help stabilize. It also happens if I’m moving and turn my head quickly. Or if I twist to look up and behind me.

Another frequent symptom I experience I didn’t actually know was a symptom of MJD: frequent urination. Yeah, overactive bladder. This one I’ve had for a decade or more, though I attributed it to my blood pressure meds. Maybe that was the case, but it has definitely increased in recent months, to the point where just about whenever I get up from sitting I want to pee. TMI? Sorry.

While each of these are fairly minor, together they usually conspire to do one of the things that most people who have MJD complain about: sleep disruption. Yeah, it’s hard for me these days to actually sleep solidly more than about four hours. Typically I take my usual pain meds (for chronic problems) and crash, then wake about four hours later to have a pee and take the next round of pain meds. In the past I’d usually be able to get fairly soundly back to sleep quickly, and sleep another three or four hours. Now, almost always one or more of the above symptoms will either stop me from getting back to sleep, or wake me frequently for the next couple of hours. At best, I doze in a light and fitful sleep.

So, there we go: a nice summary of where things stand for me.

Of course, that’s the physiological stuff, not the psychological stuff. Because yeah, there are stresses involved with this disease. Knowing what it can do. Knowing what it means. Knowing that there is no cure, and only limited treatments that have been proven effective. Knowing that it is rare to the point of almost being unknown by those outside a few medical specialties and the other families that have the genetic disorder. I was startled the other day when I was on Reddit (a huge online community/news site) looking for something else, and thought to see what kind of support groups exist for people with MJD. There aren’t any. None.

But then, the best estimates are that only about 3-5,000 people in the US have MJD. About one person in a hundred thousand. I’m guessing that I won’t be able to find a local support group, either.

So, thanks for being there, dear reader.

Jim Downey



Machado-Joseph Disease: It’s all in my head

I’m in this curious grey zone currently. On the one hand, I’m about 99% certain that I have the onset of MJD, for all the reasons that I’ve mentioned. On the other, I don’t yet have a diagnosis or the results of the genetic test for the disease (which is definitive).

So there’s some small doubt in my mind sometimes as to whether I actually have the disease, or if I’m just concocting it from a variety of lesser symptoms of normal aging and my own rather rough & tumble life. And boy, wouldn’t that be embarrassing? I mean, I’ve told all my family and friends that I’ve got this happening, I’ve posted about it on Facebook, I’ve blogged about it. What if I’ve just imagined it all? What if I’ve got a case of hypochondria going on?

Think of it as an inverse version of imposter syndrome, and you’ll see what I mean. After all, the symptoms I have are currently episodic, lasting a few hours here or there, then disappearing for a day or three. When I’m not actually experiencing them, it’s almost easy to think that I was imagining it all. And not having the disease is how I’ve lived some 63 years of my life, so it’s the norm.

But then, there are days like yesterday.

We’d had some heavy rains, and I needed to go down into our crude basement to see how much flooding there was. It’s not a real basement, as most people think of such. Rather, there’s an area about 10×20′ that has a concrete floor, but then the floor slopes back to be just a crawlspace for the rest of the rambling structure. What passes for a foundation is a porous brick structure, and during heavy rain, it floods. Where there’s the concrete floor is where the boiler for the radiator system sits, and close by is the hot water heater. Such is the state of a 139 year old sprawling house that has seen multiple additions and changes.

Anyway, I’d installed a sump pump to deal with the worst of the flooding, and it works to do that reasonably well. But still, I usually go down and check when we have heavy storms. So that’s what I did yesterday.

After seeing that the concrete area was OK, I went further back just to look around at the rest of the crawlspace, using a flashlight. I had to crouch down a bit where the floor was rising. And the combination of bending over a bit and having a limited amount of light for visual reference triggered a quick and intense vertigo.

This is a classic MJD symptom. Because MJD is largely thought to cause disruptions in the cerebellum, people who have the disease are prone to balance and coordination problems. Without visual references to confirm my vestibular and proprioception, things got quickly out of whack.

Now, this never used to be a problem for me. I always had an exceptional sense of balance and awareness of my body in space, regardless of whether my eyes were open or closed, regardless of movement or orientation of my head. Having this happen is affirmation that my suspicions are likely correct, and I do have MJD and it’s not just my imagination/hypochondria.

I suppose either way, it’s all in my head.

Jim Downey



Reinvention in the time of Covid

So, about a year ago I made a fairly big change in my life, and posted the following to my professional website:

September 1, 2019 – Please note:  due to increasing difficulties with arthritis in my hands, I am curtailing how much conservation work I am doing.  Henceforth I am prioritizing established clients and works of notable historic value.

Yeah, this has been a developing problem for me the last few years, limiting just how much detailed work I could do. It’s gotten to the point where I can typically do only a few hours a week of the difficult, careful work required. Other kinds of hand work isn’t nearly as demanding, unless it involves shock to my hands, so for the most part I’ve been able to continue with the rest of my life with minimal difficulty.

So, after posting that, I started referring new queries about conservation work elsewhere, and focused on my established clients and institutional work.

Then Covid-19 showed up.

After we got a good handle on just what that meant, I stopped meeting with even established clients. Because while my health today is just about better than it ever has been, I am nonetheless at very high risk of having a very bad case of C-19, should I catch it. Frankly, I probably wouldn’t survive it. So I’ve been telling clients that things can wait until there’s a safe & effective vaccine, and I’ve gotten my dose(s) of it.

Which is fine, because there’s rarely a reason to “rush” conservation work. And besides, I had a backlog of work waiting for me in my safe, as I always have.

Well, had.

Last week one of my institutional clients popped by to collect the last couple of items I had to work on. Just a brief, masked, socially-distanced visit. Previous projects had been mailed off, or likewise returned to clients with minimal contact/interaction.

And now the cupboard is bare, so to speak. For the first time in literal decades.

I mentioned a couple of months ago that Covid had likewise changed something else for the first time in decades: my usual mild bipolar cycle. That’s still disrupted. Well, honestly, it’s almost nonexistent. I don’t really have any sense of change currently; I’m in just a new, vague limbo which is neither good nor bad. It’s an odd feeling. Like so much, these days.

Anyway, to ‘run out’ of conservation work isn’t really a problem for me. We’re fortunate enough to be financially stable at this point in our lives, and I had been accounting on much reduced income from conservation for a while.

And, in a way, it’s good. Just this last week I also got the ‘proof’ of the printed pages of St Cybi’s Well, so I can do the hand-bound editions of that book soon. Here’s the proof copy:

SCW proof

That’ll keep me busy for some time.

And beyond that? Well, reinvention is an American’s birthright. I have more artistic impulses to explore and revisit. I have more writing I want to do (no, I’m making no promises of anything). I have life I want to enjoy.

So, for the time being, I’m going to take reasonable precautions to make sure that I can enjoy it, and do those things. I’ll get back to meeting with clients, and doing book conservation, when it is safe (in my assessment) to do so.

Take care of yourself.

Jim Downey

 

 

 



“If you’ve never experienced the magic that is Wales …”

I’m just going to post this entire review:

Reviewed in the United States on July 28, 2020

From the very first page, St Cybi’s Well steeps you in the rich culture and landscape of Wales. It has a feel of ancient otherworldliness—until the scientific and political realities hit you full-on.

This book sounds uncanny echoes of our present predicament: Pandemic. Police. Politics. Racism. Rioting. Revolt. You can hear the ripping of the social fabric as fear overcomes reason.

And yet, there is hope. Hope for healing. Hope for a better future. Hope for us all.

With protagonist Dernell Sidwell’s quest for hope/healing/redemption set in the mystical, ancient sites of Wales, the reader feels deeply drawn to the power of the past—all while checking over their shoulder for what new nightmare the present has to offer.

You’d think the author was a time traveler, considering how closely Sidwell’s journey parallels the challenges we now face. You will appreciate Sidwell’s determination, his acute survival skills, and his willingness to consider, confront, and accept some things that stretch his perceptions of what is possible.

If you’ve never experienced the magic that is Wales, take the trip now. This is an urgent adventure that will linger with you long after you’ve finished the last page. I’ll see you at St Cybi’s Well.

St Cybi’s Well, and my other books, will be available for free download this coming Saturday, as it is on the first of each month. Please download & share! And as I’ve said before: “And please, if you do read it, leave a review.”
Jim Downey


Thoughts while walking in the rain.

I’ve been in a bit of a funk the last few weeks. Which, on the one hand, is surprising, since I’m about at the top of my natural long (18 months), mildly bipolar cycle. On the other hand …

… we’re in the middle of a global pandemic, one which has been incompetently managed at the federal level to the point where we’re likely to see hundreds of thousands of additional unnecessary deaths here before the end of the year. (Don’t bother to post a political comment disagreeing — I’ll just delete it.)

St Cybi’s Well has failed spectacularly to find an audience as of yet, with fewer than 500 total downloads/sales. Given how long I struggled with the book, and the very positive responses to it by people who have read it, that’s very frustrating.

… I’m having increasing problems with arthritis in my hands, which greatly limits how much book conservation work I can do. Given that I love doing this work, that’s been another source of frustration.

So it’s not terribly surprising that I would have this reaction. Lots of people are struggling with the stress of this current time. I know I am extremely fortunate in most ways, so I’m not asking for sympathy or anything.

But it pays to understand what is happening to me, and why. Only by doing so can I decide on the best way to proceed. And my morning walk helped.

I now walk 3 miles a day, about 5 days a week. Two or three days a week I take a break to allow my joints to recover a bit, or to accommodate appointments, inclement weather, et cetera. This morning I was supposed to have a solid couple hour window between thunderstorms to get my walk in, but I took along an umbrella just in case.

And it was a good thing I did. About 2 miles into my walk the skies were too heavy and unburdened themselves. I decided it was something of a metaphor, and that I should do the same. Hence this blog post.

No brilliant insights from this to share. I know how to deal with the frustrations, and am well equipped to do so. More precautions, in spite of the isolation. More writing, in spite of the failure. More work, in spite of the ache. More reaching out and doing what I can for others, in spite of the funk.

Jim Downey