33 Carly Always Says “Just Give it a Rub”

Carly has a cousin whose children always tease Carly that her stock phrase is “Just give it a rub”. This is in response to whatever ailment anyone suffers, however serious or debilitating. It has become their mantra every time they see her. Even if they are entirely healthy or unwell and in hospital. This has made Carly ponder. Not a lot, as Carly is not prone to the longevity of pondering. She is always in a rush hither and thither. But she does wonder if it is true. Does she truly believe that rubbing something will make it better? Is rubbing an area better than dishing out paracetamol and ibuprofen? Rubbing, at least, is a physical act and less emotionally distant. Certainly, returning to hugging, which is a large-scale version of rubbing, as the pandemic relinquishes its tight grip, has been great for everyone. 

And as Carly is a doctor, a paediatrician to be exact, she sees a lot of patients with ailments. Many of which would be helped with a rub and probably wouldn’t need to see her in the clinic. She spends at least half of her clinic appointments explaining to children who have functional (also known as psychosomatic) headaches and tummy aches, about laughing and crying. She asks the children “Why do people laugh?” They nearly always think this is a trick question. But she reassures them that it isn’t. Then she asks them, “Why do people cry?” Carly explains that laughing and crying are the physical manifestations of feelings and emotions. And she feels this helps to explain to them why they might have a pain or feel dizzy or a multitude of other ailments.

She wistfully remembers one such patient. Let’s call her Mandy. That wasn’t her real name. Mandy is not a common name at all for a girl these days. Carly has seen lists of names that parents give their children nowadays. Olivia is very popular. As are Milly and Molly. Just not Mandy. Carly had been seeing Mandy for quite a while. She seemed overly sensitive to life’s knocks and bruises. One day she came to the clinic to see Carly. She refused to get on the scales for her weight to be documented. She said she had a very sore toe from stubbing it in a door. Carly looked at her records, as Mandy had come to the Emergency Department howling the night before. So much noise for a stubbed toe. She had an X-ray of her foot, which was, of course, normal. Everyone knows when you stub your toe, you are given carte blanche to swear your head off, you give the injured toe a rub and all will be well. 

But Mandy had form on this. She had hit her elbow a year ago and still wasn’t fully using her arm. Chronic regional pain syndrome had been diagnosed, and she was in a bit of a pickle. Carly really didn’t want her patient to have the same problem with her toe. So, she took off Mandy’s shoe and rubbed it gently. The level of hysteria in the clinic room was really overwhelming. Mandy was screaming, her father was crying, and her mother was looking vengefully at Carly. Then Carly tried to explain to them about allodynia. This is the reason you rub something that you have injured. The body senses the ‘touch’ and this lessens the pain. But if you don’t do that then the pain becomes intense. The nerve fibres that were originally for touch, become associated with pain and every time you touch the injured area the skin is hypersensitive and all you feel is pain. This is called allodynia and Carly knew all about this as she had done her PhD on these nerve fibres and how they could change Aδ to C fibres. She knew Mandy had allodynia in her elbow and she wanted to show the family that if she rubbed the toe then she could avoid that problem recurring in another part of her body. 

However, the emotion in the room was too intense for anyone to listen to Carly giving her scientific explanation about these nerve fibres. Now really wasn’t the time. Maybe Carly could explain it in a letter to the family afterwards. Fortuitously, after a few minutes, Mandy calmed down, her father stopped crying, and her mother looked at Carly with slightly less fury. And the toe hurt less. Within a couple of days, Mandy had no pain in her toes at all and they weren’t sensitive. So, in this instance “Just give it a rub” had been the right course of action. The elbow took longer but the family now understood how to better manage these painful joints. Interestingly, if she hadn’t stubbed her toe, ended up with an X-ray and a clinic appointment soon afterwards, Carly mused she might still have an elbow she couldn’t move and socks she could neither put on or take off? Stinky feet. The worst…

But advising parents to always “Just give it a rub” isn’t the right response sometimes. Recently, Carly had a lovely patient, Nina, who was born with a very scrambled heart. She was eight and again this wasn’t her real name. Some very clever surgeons had cobbled her heart back together with bits and bobs and flipping things around. Nina was pretty well and doing pretty much what other eight-year-old girls do. Her parents waited a very long time for her to be stable before deciding on having another child. One of Carly’s genetics teachers told her that parents often do this, so they don’t overburden themselves with many children with severe hereditary conditions. It is called reproductive choice. Nina’s mother was an inpatient on an antenatal ward because of some medical obstetric complication while her baby was still cooking – well gestating is probably a better term, decided Carly. 

Nina had come to Carly’s clinic with episodes of her heart beating too fast. Carly has decided she is a bit of an expert in these functional symptoms. Whenever anyone gets stressed, especially teenagers, they can get palpitations and experience a fast-beating heart. Carly sees loads of these patients and the trick is to say it is anxiety and not do a whole load of unnecessary investigations. These just uncover minor variants which are in the normal range and then everyone is stressed, and yet more investigations are ordered. Such a waste of time and money, not to mention unnecessary anxiety. It is like a vicious cycle of more investigations to prove the first ones were normal, when they should never have been undertaken in the first place. 

In this instance, Carly very nearly didn’t organise a heart tracing test for Nina. But she had been told by the specialist heart doctors down the road she must. Grrrrrrrrr thought Carly. Really this is just anxiety about her mother being in hospital and a sibling about to be born. Often Carly doesn’t do what she is told but Nina is pretty young for adolescent stress to cause palpitations. And she did have a previously scrambled heart, and this means she possibly could have real palpitations. So reluctantly and confident that she would be proved right, she organised a 24-hour heart tracing test. “Well blow me down with a feather” thought Carly when one of her cardiology colleagues phoned her to say she really did have some very serious palpitations that would need treatment. “Phew”, thought Carly who had begrudgingly organised the test, and “Thanks”, to having good colleagues who called her up to say it was abnormal. So, in this instance, “Just give it a rub” would have been wholly the wrong thing to do.

Carly wonders if giving things a rub and hugging are actually the same thing. Rubbing is a repetitive movement over a particular area that is sore. Hugging is helpful when you are feeling mentally sore, or just lonely. Carly thinks back to these last few years. She has always liked hugging. Her sons are good at it. Her daughter is more unpredictable. But the pandemic put paid to hugging. Well, it did if you followed the rules. Which Carly doesn’t. So, she hugged lots of people. These were all people in her ‘bubble’. Carly had a rather loose definition of her bubble. It was really more of an ephemeral construct which would expand and contract according to Carly’s needs. Mostly she wanted cuddles and hugs. But Carly also realised there were times when she didn’t.  

Carly cries a lot. And this can be overwhelming for others. But she doesn’t actually mind crying in front of others. But they don’t always like it. So, they will engineer an end to Carly’s sobs by hugging her. And if Carly didn’t want this, she could put up her hand as if to say, “No hugs, it is the pandemic after all”. And then she tries to explain in this particular instance that hugging isn’t helpful. Crying is fine. She even cried in an Uber recently when she and the driver were each trying to make sense of their recent divorces. The driver didn’t try to hug Carly. He gave her his copy of the Quran instead. Maybe that is a spiritual or religious hug. Words to surround and comfort you. Yes, thinks Carly. That is a hug. Good.

VooDoo Barbies get their home ready for Pesach

I was sent a hilarious video of someone who returns home, having had their kitchen entirely covered in tin foil (aluminium foil) as part of their Pesach (Passover) preparations.

https://www.facebook.com/share/r/1Fntkpzbxx/?mibextid=wwXIfr

This is to ensure that all the surfaces are ready to be used without fear of contamination of breadcrumbs. This project was a skit on this but taking it to the extreme of making it look like the entire house contents of all the rooms were covered with silver foil. I used my collection of five “Voodoo” Barbies as they were spare and the right size. They had already been all over Mexico and featured in an earlier blog post.

I bought the four rooms at the Tel Aviv Museum of Art. A bedroom. A bathroom. A living room. A kitchen.

Once I had made them up from their respective kits, I spray painted them with silver. I also made rugs and carpets out of foil.

Then out came the trusty glue gun. To arrange all the pieces on the canvas and the barbies in their various positions.

Barbie floats around Hydra

We spent the day in Hydra, an island near Poros which has no cars or scooters. Only donkeys and horses. But one rubbish lorry! And now hand held electric carts that can navigate the cobbled streets. Such a wonderful day. Except for the untimely arrival of two large cruise ships. Hey ho. Still a lot of fun.

Dreamcatchers on Paper. Limnisa May 2025

I have been coming to Limnisa every six months since October 2019. Even during the Pandemic and was here when the October 7th war started in Israel. Except for October 2024 as I went with the wonderful Tanya to Rajasthan, India. But I am back and for sure, this is my most happy, happy place. I feel I can be me. I am challenging and being challenged. Not just in what I write but how I write. We have had lots of discussions around writing memoirs and using pseudonyms or not and that exceptional topic we rarely touch – death.

Every morning I write about three cards I randomly pick from my Angel Cards. These help get the creative juices going and I have done them here for years. My lovely friend Rebecca introduced me to them.

Tuesday 20th May 2025

Strength, Release and Purification

Wednesday 21st May 2025

Discernment, Willingness and Celebration

Thursday 22nd May 2025

Gratitude, Play and Efficiency

Friday 23rd May 2025

Openness, Respect and Abundance

Saturday 24th May 2025

Risk, Courage and Authenticity

Sunday 25th May 2025

Healing, Delight and Intention

Next up – flowers around Limnisa

32 Carly Decides to Knit her Coffin

Carly likes to be prepared and in control. She knows that usually, but not always, you can’t be in control of your own death. So, she tries to live life to the fullest, just in case. ​It might be one day that she does travel to Dignitas when she is older and greyer to end it all. But not yet. However, it is still important to, at least, make some contingency plans. Once her children all turned 18, she completed those nifty government ‘Lasting Power of Attorney forms’ for both health and wealth. However, she kept mucking one of them up because she made assumptions. She thought the forms would be identical and, in her haste, she kept clicking on and on without really paying much attention to what information they requested. On, Carly went, clicking here and there to get the forms finished as quickly as was humanly possible. So, she had to pay twice for one of them. Silly Carly. Will she ever learn? 

She has also done her will. That means the right people (her children) would get hold of her assets. Of course, the amount depends on how frugal she is (not very) and how long she lives​ for (hopefully a long time​, but certainly not for ever). Her son​, Haz​, who works in the finance sector, has to regularly check that Carly isn’t blowing her stash too quickly and making unwise investments. But Carly can be a bit frivolous and prone to clicking too fast on Amazon for things she neither needs nor can afford. Recently she nearly invested in an £5,000 electrical sun and rain awning for her garden. “It’s a rental, Mum” sighed her (sensible-but-not-always) daughter Boo. Instead, she bought a tarpaulin for £10 to go over the outside seating cushions. Carly was surprised that Boo didn’t petition for some of the £4,990 savings made. It was interesting, mused Carly, that you could underestimate people and their motives sometimes. 

For a long time, Carly had a tricky relationship with death. Funerals more so. But death​, nonetheless. Even though she had to dissect a cadaver as a 19-year-old medical student. And once qualified she spent years certifying patients who had died in hospital. She knew you could tell by looking at the people if they were about to expire. Near the end​, their mouth would be open (​’o sign’​) but when they had popped off their mortal coil​, their tongue would slip to one side (‘q sign​’). Sometimes she even earnt ‘Ash Cash’. This meant filling in a secondary form to verify someone had died of natural causes and no foul play was at work. If a person was to be cremated and turned into ash​, then their body couldn’t be exhumed, so that no further checks could be carried out. 

Carly had learnt a lot about cremations from her latest boyfriend, David, a crematorium assistant. He showed her proudly around his workplace and explained things in meticulous detail. They came up with a scheme that might have some business clout. Carly’s brother had told them about ‘Digger-Land’ where children would ride around with operatives on old and defunct tractors. David wondered if there was any scope for ‘Crem-World’? Probably not. Besides being rather morbid, the whole process was pretty automated. And it certainly explained why David was pretty useless when it came to lighting fires in shepherds’ huts. 

At funerals​, Carly does get rather overwhelmed. Gosh does she cry. She sheds more tears than any other mourners. To the point of embarrassment. So mostly she avoids them. And this has been the catapult for her to organise her own funeral. At least she won’t cry but she can still be the centre of attention and that feels good. She could suggest someone reads some of her poems. They could even read out this Carly Story. And she could recommend some music that she likes. Will she be there to enjoy it? Maybe? She isn’t sure. Anyway, the music will feature her favourite instruments – the violin and cello. She thinks these are her all-time favourites pieces of music; Bruch’s ‘Kol Nidre’, Karl Jenkins ‘Adagio’ and Hannah Sennesh’s ‘Ayli Ayli’. She would like her children to play for her at her funeral. They wouldn’t play at her 50th birthday party, so, it is unlikely she can enforce this from the grave, and it seems too transactional to write them out of the will if they refuse. But she really would like to hear them playing the oboe and bassoon which are the woodwind double reed versions of the violin and cello respectively. 

Carly was recently quite surprised that Ades still expected her to be buried next to him. That isn’t the usual scenario when you get divorced. This leaves Carly open to consider where she would like to be buried. Highgate Cemetery is pretty cool. Full of famous people and infamous comrades. But probably quite pricey. It is cheaper if you get cremated and then only need a small space for your ashes and a miniscule gravestone. But cremation is against her environmental principles​, as so much energy is needed to cremate one person. Much better is to rot over time. She wonders how many years it will take if she wears natural fibres and is in a compostable coffin?

Recently she started a new ceremony. For the Jewish New Year. A new beginning. She created three beautiful fern-inspired paper cut-outs on different papers sewn together. This was a new craft for her, and it was fun wielding a sharp scalpel when creating them. She took them with her on the Purple-Ox trail. During her hike she stopped to burn one of them. This was to symbolise casting off what she no longer wanted. She also left another one there to decay over time. She liked the idea of something disintegrating slowly. And she brought one back. And this clarified things for Carly. Yes. She will go for burial in the end, for the end.

She recently learnt from her good friend and fellow knitter that it is perfectly possible to knit your own coffin. Carly cannot seem to find any patterns online but maybe she isn’t looking in the right place​. Surely there is a free download on Ravelry? And, of course, it must be purple. An abiding obsession and passion. And it should be made in a spiral. Crochet may be more suitable, thinks Carly. Anyway, who needs a pattern? It should be a bit like making a top-down jumper where you can keep on changing the dimensions, so in the end, the finished item fits like a glove. As long as she doesn’t get enormously fat between making the coffin and needing to use it. 

She probably also needs to consider how it will be stored. You really don’t want to see your coffin every day because it is large, and your home is small. You could even trip over it. Maybe it could be filled with linens and so it would have the intermediate use of being a storage trunk? But if it is to be stored flat like a piece of Ikea furniture, Carly will have to type instructions for how it is to be assembled when needed. 

And she’d like to be buried in a woodland with lots of bluebells which are really actually a version of purple. And her gravestone will say (NOT IN SHOUTY CAPITALS or annoying underlining)​.

Here lies Carly

Mother to Haz, Tobes and Boo

Lover of 

cats, yarn, coffee, purple, spirals, and prime numbers

and none of the RIP – rest in peace. That’s not Carly. She’ll be making a right old noise in her next life…

But for now, she is off to investigate further and plan better. 

In a death café meeting. 

Oh yes. They do exist.

In Hackney (obvs)…


31 Carly boils the kettle to make a cup of tea.

Carly has been making cups of tea all her life. Ok then. This is an exaggeration. She never liked tea as a child and would always drink Horlicks, Ovaltine or hot chocolate and this involved heating milk up in a saucepan. And then there was coffee. But certainly, for all of her adult life she has been boiling kettles. Mostly to make tea for her then husband. She has worked out that she made him at least 365 x 35 cups of tea. He wasn’t really well disposed to getting up in the morning and Carly has been bouncing around from 05:00 most days. So, she makes him a cup of morning tea. Usually, one but often more than one during the day. So, this figure of 12,775 is actually likely to be an underestimate. That is a lot of tea, boiling of kettles, squiggling about the tea bag in the hot water, removing it, adding the right amount of milk and bringing it to him. Say 15 minutes per cup of tea = 191,265 minutes. This is a total of just over 19 days. Carly is pleased. This is her favourite prime number after seven. All that time never to get back. And even then, she still ended up being divorced. She could put in a claim. Probably best not. And for many years she had one of those nifty taps that provides instant boiling water. Hmmmmmmmmmm. Is this energy saving or wasting? Certainly, boiling a full kettle for one cup of tea is not saving. And it seems that making all this tea didn’t save her marriage in the end. She will just have to notch it up to experience. 

She has noticed the trend for drinking just plain hot water. No. Even though Carly does drink herbal teas now she thinks that what with living in London with hard water, she doesn’t want to drink hot water that has a load of limescale in it. She would prefer to play pretend and have the taste of the hard water subsumed within the flavour of the herbs or flowers. Playing pretend is something we all do all the time. Well again. Here she goes. Exaggerating. We don’t play pretend all the time. We often just tend to ignore things that are difficult. Carly often does that to justify her insatiable appetite for going abroad. Mostly on aeroplanes. Are they the sole cause of the loss of the ozone layer and global warming? She was told it was the dairy industry. But she likes milk from cows and travelling. Oh dear. What a fix. Far more energy wasting than boiling the kettle.

Back to tea. When Carly moved into her current house, a new build, her mother gave her a travel kettle. That way she doesn’t need to stomp up and down three flights of stairs for a calming cup of tea. Carly tries to start off her day calmly. With fragrant tea lights, incense sticks and reading before yoga, as well as knitting to some podcasts. Carly’s son did insist on no noise before 07:00 or after 23:00. But Carly doesn’t need much sleep and she is up much earlier than 07:00. This isn’t to do with the light but her body clock. She always swipes left on those dating apps when she sees a potential date and is adamant that he needs to go out with a night owl. No, that would never work. Carly is in a bind. She needs to have an early cup of tea and has all the equipment upstairs in her bedroom, but she will need to walk about. Luckily the floors are wooden and if she puts on a pair of socks, she can glide across the floor like a ballerina. Carly smiles at this image. She knows that she is no more likely to be an elegant ballerina, than an elephant would be a skater at the local ice-rink.

But she now has her tea and that feels comforting. Really, she is addicted to coffee but the general feeling about tea and coffee is vastly different. Tea feels much more like a hug, a way of being without hurtling at full speed. Yes, being rather than doing. Coffee is more like being propelled forward. It gives you that buzz. She knows both regular tea and coffee contain caffeine, but she only drinks herbal or flower teas. So, no caffeine in them. Yes, tea for Carly feels like when she says “Just give it a rub” as compared “It is only an injection” which would be the coffee equivalent to how to manage a medical condition. They each have their place. But this is a story about tea. Carly has already written one about coffee.

And of course, tea has a wonderful history. And some lovely associated words like tisane. Oh yes, delights Carly – what a fabulous word. She thinks back to one holiday in India where all her family spent time in the hills. And watched tea pickers out for hours on the hillside putting the tips of the tea plants in their special satchels. They wore the most sumptuous and iridescent saris. She marveled at all those different colours – an entire rainbow on the mountainside. 

Of course, making tea can feel like a ceremony. Especially in England if you have a pot. Firstly, you warm it, and then you make the tea and steep it. Lots of people collect teapots. But all of Carly’s seemed to have gone now. She would use one for mint tea. And if she did have a tea pot, she could put on a hand knitted tea cosy. But she doesn’t, so she can’t. She does love to knit but really cannot justify, however utilitarian a cosy would be, to knit one. And then she moves on to egg cosies. Again, if you do decide to eat a soft-boiled egg, then just eat it.

When thinking of tea, Carly is reminded of going out for tea. It is something her parents liked. Personally, she sees it as a bit of a silly meal. It is too soon after lunch and too near supper. But you can have beautiful cucumber sandwiches and fabulous cakes all served on delightful cake stands. She went once with her sister-in-law and her niece and her fiancé to have tea at Fortnum and Mason. It was charming and pleasant. But oh, so expensive. And really Carly needs to keep the calories down. But once you have paid an extraordinary amount for the tea you feel beholden to eat it all up. She supposes that if it were a tea dance, then more energy would be expended to offset the extra calories. “But people don’t do these anymore”, she thinks. What a shame. Carly quite likes dancing but not the sort of tea dances where it requires you to be mindful of where your feet are. Maybe she could institute a tea jog. Well at least a jog beforehand to negate the guilt.

Tea is also synonymous with being ill. It is like the English equivalent to eating chicken soup. If you have a sore throat what could be better than a mug of scalding honey and lemon. Better still with some whisky. Carly’s current favourite tea is lemon verbena. It comes from John’s allotment. And as Carly likes it weakly, she can reuse it several times. It ensures she is kept hydrated throughout the day. Carly is remiss with drinking water as it is so dull. She is grateful that John grows it and knows just how much to give her regularly to ensure her pee is pale rather than dark yellow. He really is helping her kidneys here.

Finally, Carly thinks about the difference between tea and chai. She thinks that maybe they are the same. Then she remembers the chai latte. For sure totally different. The latter is a drink which is heavy on the milk and sugar and has a few spices in it. She says to herself that she will have to look that up later when she returns to Wi-Fi connectivity. But for now, she will have to muse without instantaneous answers. That is an odd place to be now when all information is not only publicly available but whenever you want it. She has decided. She will sit with this disquiet of not knowing. Yes, it is good to still be able to tolerate this.

Park Midron; seating, purple flowers, rain and terrific skies

February, March and April 2025

These are all taken on my morning walk around Park Midron with Talulah.

and on another walk I took photos of purple flowers

When you use your iphone you can adjust the photo of the “live” collection of photos and so I whizzed the phone across the sky

And then back to skies!

A bird and a dog

Puddles

Foggy, foggy, foggy

Rainbow kite stuck on a wire

Sunrise Tuesday 8th April

Work Off Art

I signed up to an ESRA event – the English Speaking Residents Association and found myself in charge of laying out the table of refreshments and bringing a cork screw. This event was in an old factory and I went around the exhibit with my good freind Rebecca.

I have only chosen to put in work I liked.

My favourite was this Artificial Intelligence video series by Ella Uzan

Car Art

The ringing phones!

An office – really?

A day in the life of an ordinary woman in clock form

Sensory Room

Rug scrabble in Hebrew

Wolt

Sea monsters

Bags for sale

Work life balance

The rest of the art I liked