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Contents I-
[1] I Can Still Wiggle My Toes Part One.
[2] I Can Still Wiggle My Toes Part Two.
[3] Scroll down for – A First Selection of Ten Poems for My Friends.
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[1] I can still Wiggle my Toes!
Part One
The operation to remove the troublesome part of my right leg and foot below the knee took place on the morning of November 17th 2020. I had no worries about the forthcoming amputation when I received the advice from the surgeon several weeks prior to the operation. As a diabetic of over thirty years standing and having already suffered a goodly number of side effects from this insidious disease; I have developed the philosophy that; if you allow yourself to worry about any future event you will spoil all the days between then and now.
I really felt ashamed when I looked back at Joyce, standing alone and looking so dejected, as my son-in-Law drove the two of us away from the house to the hospital for the operation. She looked so anxious for me whereas in contrast I could only feel elation that the day of the operation had come. My only real concern was that Covid-19 would not delay the date.
Thus we come to the operation itself Tuesday 17th November 2020. The pain in my foot during the weekend and the Monday 20th was just about the worst that I had endured. I was dreading that the amputation might be cancelled or postponed due to Covid-19. I realised that I did not fully connect with Joyce’s feelings due to my own selfish concern that I just needed to be rid of that damned foot. I had told everyone, family and friends that it was my plan to use the forthcoming winter of lock-down to learn to walk again.
I was very pleased when we arrived at the hospital to find that I had been allocated a private room for what was likely to be a three night stay there, at least. I was officially admitted to the hospital after which the arrangements for the operation and the immediate after-care were explained clearly to me. The anaesthetist interviewed me after which she declared that she felt that I would be suitable for a spinal anaesthetic if I would agree. That was in fact my preferred option as I had had one of those just about four weeks previously when the surgeon had performed an exploratory operation on my foot.
I was subsequently taken into the small preparation room attached to the theatre where I was prepared for the op. and the spinal anaesthetic was administered.
“Do you need to take anything into the theatre?” The anaesthetist asked.
“Just my phone and my Gismo” I held up my Dexcom6 continuous blood glucose monitor.
“What’s that?” She asked. “Tells me if I’m about to die from a glucose low.”
“Very handy that.” Her smile broadened. “I’m sure that the surgeon would appreciate that bit of information.” She handed ‘gismo’ back to me. “And why the phone?”
“I might want to play solitaire for a while.” With that the phone gained access to the main room.
I have to say that I had the best spot in the ‘house’. I had a warm operating table on which to lie. The theatre air conditioning was kept at a consistent flow at low temperature due to the in-house Covid-19 regs. I didn’t envy the medics having to work for the next couple of hours or more at that temperature. I made some joke about that, at which one of the junior doctors peeled back a couple of layers of his outer clothing.
He smiled a knowing generous smile. “We’ve all come well prepared; I’ve got about six layers on under this lot.” – ‘nuff said!
The main man Mr D. came over to speak to me. He was comforting sight. I had known him for about a year and trusted him absolutely.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes but don’t make too much noise and wake me up if I manage to get to sleep.”
“Well it does get a bit grizzly when I have to cut through the bone.”
He smiled and walked away to the business end of the table. I guess he had won that one on points. I was a bit disappointed though when two nurses erected a small plastic screen across my chest. When I protested the surgeon interjected.
“It’s not to save your feelings it’s so that you don’t get splattered with you own blood. I did tell you that it gets a bit grizzly.” I had to be satisfied with that.
I settled down with my phone to engage with a spot of solitaire. After a while I realised that I could also send a message to Joy to let her know that things were going OK; so far so good so to speak. In reality the whole two hours or so were very relaxed. Mr D. kept me informed as to the stages he was at and he was quite right, of course, the bone cutting bit was a bit grizzly. It was also noisy.
As the end of the operation drew near I lay there thinking of something pithy to say. Without any planning and really and truly to my own surprise I blurted out.
“Where’s me Parrot?” He look at me… surprised. “Well you’ve cut me leg off; you could ‘ave at least got me a parrot!”…”To sit on my shoulder.” I explained. There were a few chuckles as the joke sank in. They were clearly not ready for jokes in their operating theatre; not from the operating table anyhow.
Someone came to…”This is the NHS we’ve cut down on parrots. You’ll have to get your own.” A few more chuckles. My parrot joke had had but a mild success.
That’s just what I did though. I put out a general call for parrots on my Christmas list and my younger son bought one for me. There he sits looking at me right now from his seat on the micro-wave, perfectly formed and quiet, a Hansa Creation and he doesn’t even need feeding!
The theatre emptied quite quickly after the operation, I suppose they all wanted to get themselves into a warmer clime. Mr. D. came over and told me that everything had gone well and told me that he would see me later on the ward. He then left me with a nurse who began to explain the programme for the next few hours. She and a colleague pushed me out of the theatre and from there on to the ward and my room which was to be my home for the next several days.
The ward nurses took over and the routine was exactly as the theatre nurse had explained. I had already been implanted with a cannula on the back of my left hand – always my hand of choice for cannulas! To this cannula two drips were attached. No chance of a quick escape from here I thought, then I realised for the first time just how impracticable that would be anyway with only one and a half legs!
The first of the drips, as was explained to me by the first of several ward nurses who saw to my needs over the three days, was a drip of fluid to replace the loss of blood during the opp. The nurse was however quick to assure me that I had, in fact, not lost a great deal of blood. The second drip was a pain killer self-serve supply of morphine solution. It was explained that there was a control included that prohibited an over-dose of morphine. I simply had to press a button for a small pain-killing shot.
The morphine drip was a welcome addition because I had suffered over a year of continuous pain and my only real pre-opp. concern was that the pain level might be even worse for a time after the amputation. As it happened though I can honestly say that the level of pain was reduced to a level of mild discomfort. The nurse returned to see me about an hour after the drips were inserted.
“How are you feeling now, any pain? She asked.
“Well I can’t yet feel my legs because of the anaesthetic so I guess it’s too early to judge.”
“There’s your buzzer if you need anything.” She pointed to a small panel of controls hanging on the right hand rail safety rail of the bed.
“Could you lower the rails please? They’re a bit confining and I don’t need them.”
“The best I can do for now is to lower the rail on one side. Your choice?” she grinned.
“The left one please, it’s where the wheelchair is if I need to go to the loo.” I nodded at the door of the en-suite loo in the corner of the room. “And could you please leave the door open when you leave. It’s a bit isolating in here when the door is closed.”
“Well you won’t be going to the loo until you’ve got the feeling back in your lower half.” She placed a couple of cardboard pee bottles ostentatious grin on the cupboard beside the bed. “There you go!” with a sweet smile. She did leave the door open on her way out. “Don’t forget, ring if you need anything.”
For the next half-hour or more I needed nothing at all. I spent the time speaking to or messaging the family, Joyce first of course, to let them now that I had returned to the real world safe and intact – almost intact anyway! I had no problem in prospect re the charge on my phone moreover because my Son-in-Law had thoughtfully loaned me a portable charging device, a power bank, that could replenish both my Kindle as well as my phone with ease. That, incidentally, was another item that was added to my Christmas list as a result of me losing half a leg!
I did use the morphine a couple of times as the feeling returned to my lower regions during the afternoon. A nurse even came in to ask me if I needed some paracetamol as a top-up for the morphine. This surprised me, the fact that I might be needing both, because I had not required the morphine as much as I had thought I might. I came to the conclusion that I would probably need a boost of anaesthesia as time moved on and the effects of the days attack on my poor old body came more into play. I am happy and still surprised to add that it never happened. By the time morning came I felt confident enough to ask the nurse to remove the drip stand. The fluid grip had been removed during the night and I had not used the morphine since the late evening. I did ask for paracetamol a couple of times but that for me was the pain level that I was at. A very pleasant outcome!
At that point a different nurse came in and asked me if I had received my ‘nervous-medicine’ yet. This did confuse me and then she added “In case you suffer from your nerves” this confused me even more until I realised that we might be dealing with a language issue.
Pregabalin is in fact a drug used to treat nerve pain. This type of pain is often not relieved by traditional painkillers. It can be used in combination with other painkillers to improve pain relief. It can also be used to treat anxiety and or epilepsy. Fortunately a second nurse came into my room in time to explain that the Pregabalin was being prescribed by Mr D. to avoid the inevitable impact of ‘phantom’ pains. He had himself explained that to me during one of our earlier meetings but I had forgotten.
The second nurse asked … “have you had any phantom pains yet?
“Not yet” I replied “But I can still wiggle my toes!” It was true; the first thing that I had realised about my new situation as the feeling in my lower parts returned was that I could, to all intents and purposes, still wiggle my toes. The toes in my right foot of course no longer exist but, in spite of all that, I can still wiggle them. I realise naturally that it is a ‘phantom’ wiggle but nonetheless ‘phantom’ sensations can be very useful as I intend to explain in part 2 of this essay. Of pain itself I can honestly assert that I have had little of that. This will be covered when I discuss the period of my discharge from hospital and the wonderful provisions that have been made available to me by our NHS.
There is little more to be added regarding my stay in hospital. The three days were occupied by the staff in making me as ready as possible for the many impending often unexpected and sometimes difficult challenges that I have inevitably experienced; challenges that would impact both on Joyce and me and also, to a lesser extent, on the rest of our family. I also intend to give an insight into my personal experiences of Phantom Pains/experiences.
Part Two My Return Home
Friday 20th November 2021 was due to be my discharge day from the hospital. It was however an eventful day. First of all I had a very useful session with the ward physio-therapist. One piece of advice she gave me has stood me well many times since that day and I have had cause to mentally thank her for many times.
“If you are moving from one place to another, say a chair to a bed or another chair or to your wheelchair always stand erect between the two objects make it two moves in fact. Do not try to move horizontally in one move between the two!”
I had good cause to remember this advice about two hours after the therapy session. I was sitting somewhat ignominiously on the floor of my en-suite toilet and shower room and by the loo that I had just tried to move from, in one horizontal move to my wheelchair that I had thoughtlessly left just a little too far away for easy reach. One additional problem that did not help my own forgetfulness was that the grab-rail by the loo was a horizontal rail. I could not get the leverage from that rail to lift myself on my one leg to gain an upright stance. I remembered as I was sitting waiting for a response to my tug on the red emergency cord that the man from the O.T. department had fitted two grab-rails in my loo at home in an inclined 45 degree angle. That was in anticipation of my one leg status. Those rails give me very adequate purchase when I need to rise from the throne, as it were! A horizontal rail is much less useful to a one legged person unless it is purely for support when he/she is already standing.
As a result of the nursing community finding me on the floor of the loo they set about grilling me to discover whether or not I had fallen. In fact I had not fallen, when I tried to rise from the facilities I discovered that my right arm was not able to exert the power that my right leg had done previously. It was however strong enough to lower me slowly and safely to the floor where I was able to reach the red cord. A beefy male nurse helped me back to my wheelchair. I had to sign a statement that I had not fallen, that was after being interviewed by a ward doctor. That was one mistake that I have not repeated so far since my operation. There have been others similar though!
Naturally there was a wait for the pharmacist to come up with the discharge medication. 3x50mg capsules of Pregabilin daily for sixty days. More of that later! It was quite dark before my son-in-law was able to collect me from the hospital. Then we come immediately to the first post discharge problem; how to get into the car with only a knee and a bit extra on the right side. The vehicle is a beautiful Ford Transit conversion. Wonderfully comfortable once you’re sitting in it; I needed however to rise to the occasion, to rise about nine inches in fact! With my son-in-law’s help I managed to gain the height by getting in left-legged but then once up there I had to turn round whilst protecting a very raw amputation wound. We made it of course but it was one of many ‘getting used to the new situation’ occasions.
In the first weekend I fell twice. They were my own careless fault although I do attribute some of the blame to the truly heady effects of the Pregabilin which were quite strong and often produced in me a level of disorientating that was noticeable to Joyce.
My first fall came quite out of the blue in the downstairs toilet. I was feeling quite confident, perhaps too confident, that I could manage OK to take a stand-up pee into a hand held plastic container [supplied by the OT department] on one leg and holding a grab rail. Perhaps it was the over-confidence perhaps it was simple lack of practice at that time; the Pregabalin may well also have played a part but once I had begun to pee I suddenly realised that I didn’t have the strength to hold the vertical position. I had the wheelchair behind me but I had foolishly forgotten to put the brakes on. As I tried very awkwardly to fall back into the wheelchair it moved away and so my dignity and pride both took a fall whereupon I ended up on my back on the floor half in and half out of the toilet. Again though I was able to lower myself slowly to the floor thus avoiding a heavy impact.
Since those first eventful days and weeks I have practiced getting up from the floor and inside the house I am more confident that in case of a fall I can get up. In the street however I would have more difficulty if I were in a space where there was nothing such as a wall to give me some leverage. Believe it or not the false leg can actually be a hindrance in such situations. In my particular circumstances at that time I was very concerned that I had not harmed the quiet tender operation wound. Practice is what one needs in order to be confident. In this case Joyce called in the help of an obliging and somewhat beefy neighbour opposite. He was very helpful in getting me back into my wheelchair.
I wanted very much to take a shower every morning. I had not been able to shower since the Tuesday morning of the day of my operation. As I thought about it I realised that is was going to be difficult in spite of the organisational work that Joyce had undertaken in preparation for my return home with half of my right leg missing. There was eventually going to be the possibility of using my right leg to kneel but not until the wound had healed fully.
The issue in the bathroom was that the shower cabinet was entered through a sliding door that ran along a metal runner about an inch and a half high. There were two horizontal grab rails within the cabinet and Joyce had purchased a very sturdy Swedish designed bath grab rail that she had fixed to the side of the bath right next to the opening to the cabinet so that I could use that as an additional aid to get myself into the shower cabinet. We placed a perching stool to the right of the opening. From a sitting position on the perching stool and placing my left foot inside the shower cabinet, inside the metal runner I attempted to swing myself though the opening into the shower where Joyce had placed a shower stool for me to sit on while I washed myself. Looking back on that time it was a precarious undertaking that I had managed breathtakingly the two previous occasions on the Saturday and Sunday mornings after I came home. [Please note that it is not possible for a normal person to jump one-legged, safely over even a very low rail such as the runner for our shower door at the time. My left foot HAD to be placed inside the cabinet for my entry to be possible.]
On the third morning i.e. the Monday morning after my discharge from the hospital I tried to make the precarious entry into the shower once more and two things happened. The bath mat moved and my left foot slid away from me and so I hit the deck once again. This time I had landed quite hard and in a very awkward situation. My legs were still inside the shower cabinet but my body was constrained between the toilet basin and the bath. With Joyce’s help I managed to get into a sitting position but there was nothing handy from which I could get enough leverage to get into a standing position. My main concern, as always was that I had to protect the wound. I had given it a bit of a clout on the way down and I didn’t want to worsen that aspect of the situation. After a while we made the decision that I was not going to rise unaided from that position and so Joyce went across the road once more to seek assistance from our very helpful neighbour. The poor devil was having a bit of a lay-in as it transpired. Nonetheless he was very agreeable and I have taken the opportunity to thank him properly now that I am back on my feet.
In view of recent events Joyce and I had decided that it would be better if I reduced my shower regime to once every two days. A better method of entry was, however, needed urgently. What had I done wrong? Firstly I had been trying to enter the cabinet from the side whereas a frontal entry would be both easier and safer. Secondly, because of the erratic entry I was doing just what the ward physio-therapist told me not to do. I was trying to complete the whole manoeuvre horizontally. If I were to stand up in front of the shower entrance, holding the new ‘bath’ rail and the shower cabinet frame we worked out that Joyce could wiggle the perching stool right up close to me so that I could sit comfortably prior to my entry. I could also then carefully place my left foot just inside the cabinet, hold myself carefully on the grab rail fixed to the bath and then reach out to pull myself into the cabinet bodily using the grab rail on the wall opposite. With this much more careful action I was able to stand upright inside the cabinet before sitting quietly down onto the shower stool.
The third fall that I had was the last one in which Joyce was involved and one during which I began to feel much more confident but also very guilty because it affected Joyce quite badly emotionally. I was sitting on the edge of the bed and managed to slip off into the gap between the bed and the glass fronted wardrobe. After a while the two of us managed to solve the issue between us which I saw as a real success but Joyce by then had seen me fall on three occasions very close together. I was happy at the fact of solving the issue but it was too much for Joyce and she became very upset which, in turn, made me feel very guilty.
That was not the final fall however. The fourth was from a similar situation to that of the third. I was sitting on the side of the bed when I dropped something that fell just out of my reach. I stretched my non-existent right foot down to move it closer and so I fell because the right leg was not long enough. I had been used to being able to do that manoeuvre for nearly eighty-two years. “Daft-bugger” I muttered to myself on the way down. Nonetheless I had done some ‘fall-training’ by that time and I was back up on the bed before Joyce came back into the room.
I was pleasantly surprised and grateful for the very real efficiency of the senior ward nurses each time that I left hospital; both after the preparatory operation and several weeks later after the amputation.
On the first occasion I received a phone call from our local O.T. department on the night that I arrived home. She made an appointment to make a home visit to us on the following Monday to discuss my future needs.
As a result of that meeting The OT dept. installed a number of very useful grab rails both at the front door and in the downstairs loo. They also suggested and supplied a shower stool and two perching stools as well as two ‘pee’ bottles.
Joyce and I had also realised that I would not be able to climb the stairs to bed and so we ordered a stair lift from a very reliable company recommended by a family member. That stair lift was installed on the day of my operation and so was ready for use from the moment I returned home.
I returned home after the amputation and the stair-lift was in-situ but we then realised that I was going to have great difficulty getting into and out of the house because I was confined to a wheelchair and there are two steps to negotiate in order to enter the front door. Some speedy phone calls to the OT and a set of ramps were arranged and delivered within a short period; I had received a phone call from the disablement team at Medway on the Monday 23rd November to attend a first appointment at the disablement team clinic in Medway on Wednesday 2nd December.
There followed a series of therapy sessions; twice a week at first but reduced to once a week from the week beginning the 1st February. During the course of these sessions a cast was taken of my stump and measurements taken to enable the production of my prostheses to take place on Wednesday 6th January. My prosthesis was received Monday 18th January. I was instructed as to how to put on and take it off. I was also able to take it home but instructed just to wear it for a couple of hours at a time and not to walk in it until I returned to the therapy later that week. I was though permitted to stand with the prosthesis on it but only if I had support. This enabled me to take advantage of the grab rails in our downstairs loo and to have a very welcome ‘Stand-up Pee’ on two ‘legs’ for the first time in what seemed like a very long while.
My progress with the prostheses was so good that we made arrangements for the stair-lift to be removed on Monday 1st February; this was following the therapy session with the senior therapist on 26th January; when she had inducted me into the technique for climbing stairs. There was the added factor that we had arranged to have our bathroom re-modelled and create a wet area at the far end so that would be a walk-in entrance and so make my thus far rather dicey entrance to the shower a thing of the past. The bath was due to be removed and this process might be, we thought, impeded by the presence of the stair-lift. Moreover I wanted the stair-lift removed ASAP so that the temptation to use it would not be there.
The senior therapist was away on holiday for two weeks from the beginning of March until the 17th. During that time I had begun to walk, firstly with just one stick and then with no sticks. I returned for an appointment with the therapist at the disablement team on the 17th at which point the senior therapist discharged me from that particular service within the disablement team. At that time I felt that I had achieved most of what I had set out to achieve during the Lock-down winter of 2020/21 – I had learned to walk again. Now I have the ongoing task of improving – Onwards and Upwards!
I had already been discharged from the care of the consultant surgeon during a visit to his clinic on Friday 19t February 2021. The Pregabalin had been reduced first to two tablets a day then to just one for a final week at which point I stopped taking it. All reductions were undertaken at my request but only after discussion with the consultant.
Before I finish I want to discuss my experience of Phantom Pains.
Phantom pain is pain that feels like it’s coming from a body part that’s no longer there. Doctors once believed this post-amputation phenomenon was a psychological problem, but experts now recognize that these real sensations originate in the spinal cord and brain.
Most people who’ve had a limb removed report that it sometimes feels as if the amputated limb is still there. This painless phenomenon, known as phantom limb sensation, isn’t the same as phantom pain.
For some people, phantom pain gets better over time without treatment. For others, managing phantom pain can be challenging. You and your doctor can work together to treat phantom pain effectively with medication or other therapies.
Whilst touching lots of wood I have to say that I have experienced very little by way of phantom pain since my amputation; and so I will not claim any expertise in the subject. I do have some pain of the type but I have much more by way of phantom sensations; hence my title to this section – “I Can Still Wiggle My Toes!”
I my case moreover I reject the concept of “Phantom.” Again I have to emphasise that here I am talking about my personal, and recent experience of amputation. What I experience either as pain or sensation I would most fervently describe as displaced pain or sensation. Let me explain.
I sometimes feel either some pain or a sensation like an itch in my stump when the tin leg has been removed and I am resting my leg. If I then refit the prosthesis that pain or sensation with immediately move to be felt as if in the prosthetic foot and vice-versa. I have often been very tempted to scratch my plastic foot as if it were really and truly the root of the itch. You explain! – I cannot.
Tony Kreit 24-04-2021.
If anyone would like to discuss any of the issues in my discussions around my diabetes or related subjects I will respond to enquiries on ([email protected]) or
([email protected]) Brackets not required.
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[1] I can still Wiggle My Toes!
A First Selection of Ten Poems for My Friends.
[1] Always
[2] The colon
[3] “We’re in the Money!”
[4] Goodbye Nas
[5] DGM Remembering
[6] The Hole in the Road
[7] “Who are You?”
[8 Progress Ever Progress.
[9] No Time.
[10] “Do I Believe in God?”
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Always.
I want to do something
to go somewhere.
To leave this boredom
I don’t know where.
Yet life holds hopes, dreams,
fights and fears.
They’re like doorways
to the waiting years.
These doors will open
and with all my heart
I pray to enter into them
with her.
She holds for me
both life and hope.
She is my love
and all my dreams.
I see her now
red cheeked and firm.
but also soft,
like good, clean snow.
I see her always.
I cannot move but she is here
with me…..
I have no fear.
To Butch
With all my love.
Tony Kreit – Bircham Newton Christmas 1961
Always…..The Background
This is probably not the first poem I ever wrote but it is the first one I ever thought worth keeping. The poem expresses the feeling I had then about the woman who was not yet, at that time, my wife. She was and is the woman with whom I have gratefully spent my life.
It is a constant wonder to me, each time I read the poem, just how prophetic the feelings expressed in it turned out to be. When I wrote down those lines I was doing my National Service in the Royal Air Force. During Christmas 1961 I was beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel. I was due to be de-mobbed in the July of 1962. I had made one or two good friends, worth the name, as J.K.J. would have said.
I think that the reference to snow in the poem might have been a subliminal Freudian message. That Christmas had been the second year running that there had been heavy falls of snow in Norfolk. I hope that I am not revealing an official secret in stating that Royal Air Force Training Command was not equipped to deal with heavy falls of snow! We even discovered that large quantities of Rum, kept for medicinal purposes during snow clearance, had been purloined and replaced with black currant juice!
By 1961/62 the era of National Service was rapidly drawing to an end. I was one of the very last to have had to do it. It seemed that each week drew to a close with someone’s de-mob party. I am sure that I completed the last six months of my service in a state of semi intoxication!
I wrote this poem late one Sunday night/Monday morning, after I had returned to camp from a weekend in London. It was a low moment as I would not be seeing Joyce [Butch] for another two weeks. I was down for guard duty the next weekend.
It is strange when I look at the dedication at the bottom of the poem. I remember that I often referred to Joy as Butch in those days. It is a name that I still remember with some affection. It is, however, one that I hardly ever use these days, fully forty years on.
Tony Kreit…….09-01-2002
The Colon.
How does my library grow?
Is it with full stops and commas in a row?
With full stops always,
The comma is a frequent fellow.
The semi colon when I think of him;
The colon is a never thing.
Inverted commas are there,
when I write in spoken form.
Question marks when I’m not sure.
Exclamation marks come thick and fast.
The colon though, is thought of last.
Many sentences I have written.
Many paragraphs I therefore own.
My writing though remains truly,
a large and expanding colon free zone.
What use is he? I ask myself.
Above all I ask myself
what use is he when all is said and done?
And so when I peruse my world of colons,
There are none!
Tony Kreit 03-09-2010.
The reason that I wrote this poem is quite simple. I was driving my car early one morning listening to the radio when I heard a discussion, a serious discussion, between a well-known presenter of the radio four today program and two American academics about the demise in English writing of the colon and the semi colon. These are no doubt serious issues for lovers of traditional standards of grammar in English, and I do use both colons and semicolons in my own writing. I was struck however by the patronizing and pompous tone of the conversation and thereby inspired to write the poem.
We’re in the money.
We’re in the Money, we’ve got the money
We’re in the money and we’re gonna have a whale of a time!
We’re in the money; we’ve now got your money.
We’re gonna spend it, lend it, we’re gonna move it around.
We’re in the money, who’s money have we got?
We’re got your money, it’s just like honey.
It’s really sunny. There’s no doubt about it.
And we sure as hell are just like bees to the pot!
It’s aggravating! No fascinating! No invigorating! and the day is sunny!
It’s really sunny cos now we’ve got your money; it’s in our bag and so
we’re up and running to our secret, cagey banks, all over the world.
That’s where it just grows and grows and we don’t have to move it at all.
It’s really funny when you think just where your money has gone.
We’ve got it, and you’ll never get it back, you’ll not find it, no,
not one bit of it at all………
For us your money has been just like golden leaves in the fall.
Yes we’ve got your money! We’re gonna keep it safe, of that you really can be sure.
It’s as safe as a bunny in its deep dark hole in the ground.
No matter how hard you search it never ever really can be found.
Because my dear we’ve gone and spent it, lent it and simple moved it around! Thanks for the MEMORY! ——Tony Kreit 13-05-18
These words were not written as a way of getting at Mike Coupe, no, really not. It was just that his innocent faux pas in front of ever greedy media cameras reminded me of the resentment I still feel against those greedy financial bastards who, probably both by incompetence and greedy criminal design, relieved millions of men, women and families of billions of their cash during the near-recent financial meltdown. Tony Kreit 13-05-2018.
Goodbye Nas.
My friend Jack is dying
he told me so today.
I sat beside his bed and thought,
Christ! What can I say?
“I’m done for mate” he said, just that.
“There’s no going on for me.”
“It’s the pain”, he said, “The pain.”
“If there’s a God in Heaven,
He’ll keep me from this pain”.
My friend Jack is dying.
He told me so himself.
He hopes to live,
perhaps another year,
but his face says
that he knows it won’t be so.
I’ve known Jack for six good years.
We’ve been friends, perhaps for four.
At Christmas time we’d have a jar
whilst the children made the tea.
Paula put the kettle on,
Linny made the toast.
She sat and roasted on the floor
to make the toast for four.
Jack and I would string the yarns
and plan next summer’s fishing
which now may never come.
The silent cloud hangs over me
he looked and stared me cold.
For my mate Jack is dying
he knows it well enough.
He told me so today.
The cold words filled the room.
“I’m not getting over this one Tone.
I’ll never work again”.
For my friend Jack is dying,
and that’s the way I heard.
The words he used,
his face was stone.
My throat moved
But no sound came,
Yet through the window
the morning tide raced
over the spring cold,
stone cold shallow sand.
The boats in the creek
drifted in the warmth-free Easter sun.
I sat and looked and prayed deep prayers
that Jack would ask me
one last time, to go home,
to get my rods.
Goodbye Nas.
A farewell to Eric John Moss
by his friend, Tony Kreit……..Friday April 13th 1979
The poem is self explanatory. Jack died that Easter and I wrote this poem in memory of a quiet friendship. We never went out together. I got to know him because his wife worked for me as a home worker when I had a business in the ‘rag trade’. We got to talking and sharing a few drinks. He was a hospitable man. We often talked of going fishing together but like often is the case, we never got round to it.
God bless!
Alev Ha Shalom.
Tony Kreit……09-01-02
D.G.M. Remembering.
I saw eternity the other night, at bedtime
In my children’s eyes.
I saw my father, and my father’s, father’s, father.
I saw my baby’s baby,
And theirs too.
They were all asleep, all three.
I stooped to brush aside a stubborn hair.
My heart beat with sudden pleasure
As I saw the vagrant grin
And knew I’d been taken in,
But not unwillingly, yet again,
There is that vagrant grin.
It mirrors eternity for me,
It meanders on and back,
among the generations in my mind and heart.
And yet it can reside on one tiny,
impish, pink and plastic face.
It is a melting grin that links me
Through the generations of fathers in my line,
That melting, wind hover, smile that links me
To those future generations,
Of whom I know nothing
Except that I love them as part of me.
Children are the messages we have sent,
to that unseen future.To those generations,
unknown but not undreamed.
Who will stoop to view, as I did,
Inside a cool, white cot,
Pussy cats surrounding,
and there, in the quiet, awesome hush of bedtime,
see eternity, in a baby’s smile?
Tony Kreit…………….21-02-71
D.G.M. Remembering.
I wrote this poem one night after saying goodnight to our three children.
Darran would have been seven, Gavin six and Meera three. She would have been the only one who might have been in a cot at that time but I cannot believe that was the case. Maybe I was drawing on poetic license or magic memory? I cannot remember.
I do remember that bedtimes with the children were precious times for me. We were living in Sittingbourne and I worked in London. I worked long hours and it was very rarely that I was home in time to see the children to bed. The emotions expressed were fully felt and truly meant.
Anyone who reads this poem will realise that I have a feeling for eternity and for the ties of generation. Ties of generation are not restricted to ties of blood.
Tony Kreit……09-01-02
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The Hole in the Road.
This morning I saw a hole in the road.
There were markers there yet no-one seemed to own it.
A lonely hole with cones around
Just as if some hidden persons might return sometime
To tend this hole and or maintain it.
Nothing happened; the hole remained
Alone and quite neglected
The markers there encompassed,
Still no-one seemed to claim it.
Lonely it appeared, and totally rejected.
I passed it yet a third time, just one day more
And there it was in pristine holey-ness
It was a Council hole, so claimed the markers there.
With no workers apparently available or at hand.
When might they return to own it?
Well my friend that’s just your guess!
For sad, neglected Holes like this are abounding in our land.
Begun on 07-02-2017 but completed 16th May 2019. I have to admit then that for over two years I also neglected my poor old HOLE in the Road. It was a hole in the road in Minster on the Isle of Sheppey but could have been just about anywhere in the UK in my experience. When you have a government that doesn’t seem to give a damn for public works I guess that neglect for the roads becomes par for the course. Tony Kreit 02/17-05/19.
Who are you?
Are you as snug as a bug in a rug?
When cold north winds blow and we shall have snow
and snow can be found on the ground all around,
are you tucked up in bed like a bug in his rug?
You might well live life like a fart in a fair,
knowing not whither to go nor to where.
You don’t make plans that fold up like dreams.
Nor do you have dreams that make do as plans.
You do not exist as a babe in a barn,
not caring to leave not daring to go,
not daring to front the world as a foe.
You don’t have dreams that keep you inert.
You see yourself as a bull in a shop full of China.
The world is your oyster of which you are the master.
Your life seems complete for you are the metal
that changes the world. For less you will not settle!
Are you now tucked up now like a bug in his rug?
When the cold wind doth blow have you banked all your dough?
Are you now safe from the frost? Has Jack pulled up your ladder?
Does it matter to you that folk get – MADDER AND MADDER?
Tony Kreit… 20-10-10 after the spending review of this date!
The word being bandied around all day yesterday was “fair”. We are apparently all in this together and it is only fair that we share the burden equally. Much was said yesterday about benefit cheats and none of us can, in all conscience, approve of that particular activity. What has not been acknowledged, however, is that one very rich man evading tax in this country when he promised to give up his non dom. status years ago, will rob the treasury of more money than might involve tens of thousands of benefit cheats. It might be seen, therefore, as more cost effective to go after such people than to concentrate on those, much lower down the food chain, who claim benefits to which they are not entitled. If only those others were not also supporters of party funds as well as tax cheats, we might be able to do more!!!
———————————————————————————————–
Progress, ever progress.
Sitting at my table,
the radio is on.
It’s a wonderful world,
our scientists are grand.
The science of the nucleus
is racing ever on.
The holocaust is easier now,
we have the ways and means.
They say we have a bomb,
tactical and nuclear.
So beautiful,
so small.
The pride of country,
and politicians…all!
Our tiny little atom bomb
no bigger than a cricket ball.
HOWZAT?!!!
Tony Kreit mid.80s.
Progress, ever progress.
Another foray into the world of whimsy I’m afraid.
I was sitting at home one afternoon when I heard the wonderful news on the radio. Our much vaunted scientists had succeeded in creating a nuclear weapon no larger than a cricket ball. Just what the world needed! Especially those countries that didn’t play cricket! Serve the buggers right!
Tony Kreit……10-01-02
———————————————————————————————–
No Time.
Life is with us now
but death waits for us all.
This is all I know
that I must know much more,
I must,
before I go.
Factory man, go to your work
before the sun is up.
Sandwiches in paper
your pocket stuffed.
Eight to six and home you go.
Another day tomorrow,
Another day today.
Office man go to your work
the sun is in the sky.
Sandwiches in briefcase,
a copy of the times.
Nine to five,
the train is late.
Another day tomorrow.
Go not so quietly,
towards your use by date.
Eight to six,
or nine to five.
Stand up! Jump out of line!
Stamp yourself unsatisfied!
Another path tomorrow……………
Tony Kreit…………… June 1st. 1987.
No Time.
This, for me, was a statement that none of us should toe the expected line. We have only one life to live. This is not a practice session. I felt and feel strongly that we should live our lives in an attempt to fulfil our own expectations and not those that other people have for us.Tony Kreit……10-01-02
——————————————————————————————–
Do I Believe in God?
They asked me
Do you believe in God?
I reply, do you believe?
Does he believe?
Do they believe?
Do I need to believe in God to be what I am?
You might say that it’s the only way.
History tells us different.
In those long years of our darkest night
and other times before
some did not even know that they were Jews.
Yet suffered, died as Jews, and more.
They died long deaths or lingered
like skeletons through that eternal night.
Was God there for them? Did they still believe in God?
Did they learn to believe in Him?
You ask me now if I believe in God
I will ask you then,
does God believe in me?
Tony Kreit [08-06-09]
This poem was inspired by a conversation I once had with my cousin Shimon. Shimon was an Orthodox Jew and therefore believed strongly that the only way to be a Jew was by the traditional routes of having a Jewish mother or by Orthodox conversion. He argued that the law of return should not apply to Jews who had acquired Jewish status in any other way. I disagreed with him very sincerely on this point. I pointed out to Shimon that many people had gone to the gas chambers in Nazi Germany who did not fulfill his criteria and yet should be regarded as Jews as they had died as Jews. He rounded on me and asked me angrily if, then, Hitler was going to decide who was and who was not a Jew. I thought about this for a moment. My response then was; if not Hitler then who in the past two centuries was more influential on the subject and who else would side with me , and if not now when? Shimon actually failed to connect to my less than subtle reference here to the words and rhythms of Hillel1. This was an argument that we never resolved between us. Shimon was my friend and my cousin and we had some good times together. Shimon did agree to help me with my reading from the Torah for Simchas Torah in October 2006. This was the centenary of my grandparents coming to this country.
I have no mixed feelings as to whether it is necessary for a Jew to believe in God or not. This is because there is no limit to human hypocrisy. There are times a-many when people use the name of God to promote actions of which their God would not approve. This is particularly true of the case of Jews and the State of Israel. I have argued, many times, that the actions of certain Israeli politicians have been monstrous, bullying, cruel and unworthy. Jewish friends have argued against me that Israel has only fought to maintain what is a God-given right. It seems to me that this argument merely seeks to put into the hands of frail human politicians the authority of God. Politicians are what they are; they are fallible, often weak and sometimes corrupt. They respond to political needs that have no Godlike quality about them. My friends also forget that, when they argue that Israel was given to the Jewish people by God, he also gave to us some years before, in the wilderness, a gift that was far more precious and more defining of Jewishness than the state of Israel. God gave to the Jewish people the basis for the code of Jewish law. It is the code of Jewish law that has defined and sustained Judaism throughout the ages. One can be a Jew without Israel but not without the code of Jewish law. After all, many more Jews have lived a Jewish life outside of Israel than within it. I am all for the existence of the State of Israel as a Jewish State but it must concede a just resolution for the Palestinians who also have rights to live under their own flag!.
Tony Kreit 27-11-2018
1Rabbi Hillel, possibly born in Babylon 110 BCE and is popularly known as the author of two sayings: firstly “If I am not for myself who is for me? And being for my own self, what am ‘I’? And if not now, when?” secondly “That which is hateful to you, do not do to your fellow. That is the whole Torah; the rest is the explanation; go and learn.”