From Bath to Cork with Baby Grace

This is the morning after HelpPortraitCork.  I’m slowly recovering energy.  When I woke I wanted to cancel the day & stay in bed. The adrenaline was gone - the body felt as if it was fit for nothing.

Help-Portrait was that good.  Later I’ll say more about what HelpPortraitCork was like yesterday.  Until then, this is the complete set of audios I made on the day:

On the day: 

(1)  Start of day diary recorded very early here 

(2)  Another personal diary about why I’m doing Help-Portrait - recorded as I left home   here  

(3)  Just as HelpPortraitCork was ready to welcome people for their portraits - voices of our team here  

(4)  1310 What it all looked like and sounded - music & interview with magician Ger Kearney here

(5)  Lunchtime: More sounds from the lobby of HelpPortraitCork - two make-up artists (Lisa & Andrea) speak here  

(6)  Towards the end I interviewed Michael Lynch & Darran Kelleher of AV3 Productions  here 

(7)  The end of HelpPortraitCork - a description & "in a word" comments for many people here  

Would it be useful to gather my recent audio broadcasts together in one place on this blog?  Would that be handy & attractive for others - especially those who don’t use AudioBoo themselves?

Let’s see…

Here are sounds of my last couple of weeks: [after each I’ve put the number of times each has been listened to - so far]

 I went to London

(1) My son Benjamin O’Mahony played Ibsen at Arcola Theatre Hackney, London by Mahdi Yahya [67]

(2) I felt encouraged by others  [35]

(3) I reviewed "The Emperor Self" and wished I’d seen it twice [158]

(4) I walked towards AudioBoo HQ [26]

(5) I interviewed Mark Rock, CEO  - and met team AudioBoo on Tower Bridge Road, London [125]

(6) I wrote a poem "AudioBoo" after the style of Rudyard Kipling’s Mandalay  [15]

I returned to work in Cork  

(7) I worked for a start-up "On-Line Senior Citizen" [25]

(8) I read my own Epic Poem: Irish Epic Poem in 33 Cantos - canto 7  [11]

(9) I listened to views of others who’ve given up Twitter  [708]

(10) I walked in the city of Cork on a Saturday morning, hear music  [24]

(11) I read Grace a bedtime story : Pinocchio (but audio ran out) [12]

(12) I vowed to take up golf again - after the Ryder Cup team was selected by a Scot [21]

(13) I celebrated Grace’s 5th birthday  [24]

(14) I started the school run from Glanmire thru the Jack Lynch tunnel  [22]

(15) I complained about traffic congestion in Douglas Cork - while I added to it [21]

(16) I experienced chaos on first school day - relived my childhood [27]

(17) I read out a blogpost letter to Grace : her birthday & first day at "big" school  [19]

(18) I worked for another start-up : In Hand Guides & discovered Innovation Vouchers  [25]

(19) I got my car repaired by AutoMotif in Cork, a team led by Paul Allen [35]

(20 I interviewed a policeman, Garda, about cancer - what Boston cops do with Cork Gardai [32]

AudioBoo is one of the greatest inventions of all time.

There’s no point in being half-passionate, half a fan - half a lover.

Of course this judgement is unbalanced, one-sided, partisan, obsessive, crazy.  Eh?  Well, before you take that view, I suggest you try it for yourself.  You may well hate audio - may even detest the sound of your own voice - might ever experience embarrassment.  

But you may be surprised at the versatility & diversity of AudioBoo.  It seems to me to be a tool you can use for many purposes. Those who dislike their own voice can record others - can become excellent sharers of fine content.  AudioBoo is not all me, me, me.  It can be used to honour others.

My latest use of AudioBoo include:

(1) Me reading from my #EpicPoem  - recorded on iPad early this morning (8.56 mins)

(2) A short visit to Triskel Arts Centre in Cork city - an exhibition of glass - recorded on iPhone yesterday  (2.32 mins)

(3) Comments in response to Roy Cellan-Jones who visited Twitter HQ in San Francisco (2.38 mins)

(4)  My work - me doing my best to share information about my job & working style (4.54 mins)

(5) Launch of a new iPhone App - Mission Explore (5.12 mins) - in London - my response  (1.42 mis)

Please let me know which one you like best. 

I’ve started using AudioBoo.  This enables me to talk to people - or at least broadcast.

I’ve gradually realised many people don’t like to read.  They simply don’t love the act of reading.  Of those who avoid reading, there are many who love audio.

Irish people particularly love radio.  

Maybe I’ve been cut off from many people?  Maybe, if there was an audio version of my blogposts, I would be more inclusive - and more popular?

I found AudioBoo by accident, and got into using it via my iPhone. [You can contact the CEO of AudioBoo via Twitter @MarkRock.]

So far I’ve made over 30 podcasts - all raw, unedited, each no more than 10 minutes long.  You can find them all here. 

Yesterday I made 4 podcasts:

(1)  Water explosion in Cork - after the water supply to many people was suddenly cut (1.46mins)

(2) My newest business idea - sharing thoughts from my business life (2.41mins)

(3) Blackrock Castle Observatory today - on my way there: what was on my mind (2.56mins) 

(4) Where’s best place to visit in Cork City?(1) - all about Blackrock Castle Observatory & Fota Island Wildlife Park (5.18mins)

I hope you find something interesting & valuable among them.  My plan is to keep this up and move towards a situation where there is always an audio version of each blogpost.

What do you think of that idea?  Share your view in comments below, please. 

"A gorgeous child
fabulous curls,
his heart moved to the other side,
and back again.
We had him in intensive care"

"My third leg was amputated at birth, Mum"

"Wasn’t he rubbed with olive oil too." 

"I was a tadpole in a previous life,
lived a short life,
got eaten by a big one,
as happens to most tadpoles.
Taught me one lesson:
’small isn’t always beautiful’. 

As the week worked its influence on me in Lourdes, I noticed that I stopped seeing people with disabilities.  

Anyone who wanted to be could be in a wheelchair.  There were so many different people being pushed around by helpers…

The wheelchair became part of the furniture.  [But pushing an 84 year old uphill to the top church reminded me I could do with more gym time.) The people in wheelchairs became normal.

So, when it came to the party in the hostel (L’Hospitalité) on the last day, I thought it would be a normal experience for me.  The reality was a bit overwhelming: people were so great - the performers so keen to have a go.  No matter what they needed to enable them to perform, it was there.  I got lumps in throat & tears in eye during the party.  Mother was in her element, parked next to someone she’d never met before.  She looked more relaxed than ever.

There, the language of "disability" seemed so poor at capturing the quality of the people.  There, among people who had the help they wanted at hand - I found myself not noticing the physical condition, the state of the bodies & minds.  I was so taken with the inner spirit of the person.

It was easy to feel one of them. 

I went to see "my" psychiatrist today.  It was in a public hospital in Cork City.  I queued up in the waiting room for about 80 minutes. We had a 10 minute meeting.  We agreed to meet again in three months to review how I am.

The psychiatrist said he’d write a short letter to my GP (local doctor) saying I didn’t need to take any medication. I’ve been well since September 2008.

While I was waiting my turn, I used Twitter to let people know where I was, and what I was doing.  This led one person to ask me why I was being so open about my mental health?  When I tweeted to say I didn’t need any medication, a few people said they were pleased. It was lovely to get tweets of support and well-wishing.

I was also asked why I was using the public health system?  I think the person who asked that thought I’d have better treatment if I went private - if I paid to see a psychiatrist.

Two good questions eh?

(1) Why be so open about my mental health?

It helps me.  I’ve gained from being open.  The more open I’ve become, the more support I’ve received from others.  The more I’ve realised there are loads of people interested in mental health, the easier it’s become to talk about my mental health -  in the same way I’d talk about going to the dentist.

I communicate openly about my mental health because I hope to make it easier for others to do the same.  I hope I help others. I remember well how difficult it was before I got practice at being open.  I still find every time I talk about my mental health it gets easier. People who’ve never had depression find it hard to talk about it.  They simply don’t know what it’s like.  People get embarrassed talking about things they don’t understand.  There’s also a long history of mental health issues being covered up in families.

I need lots of support from others - and there are plenty of people who think an extrovert like me would never get depressed.  Anyone can get depressed, I assure you.  There are plenty of people trying hard not to let their mental health struggle become visible to others. It’s so hard to keep it all under wrap.

(2) Why go to a public health psychiatrist in Ireland?

It was faster to get a psychiatrist in the public system.  When I needed more than a GP, my doctor wrote to a private consultant for me.  I then waited for an appointment. Time dragged on, nothing happened. Perhaps it was an administration cock-up but I got no psychiatrist. By accident my wife found out that there was no waiting list in the public system. She contacted by doctor for me; my GP made a phonecall and I got to see a psychiatrist within days.

Via the public health system, I got a referral to a community mental health nurse.  She helped me, met me weekly and I felt very well supported by her.  The public system also referred me to an occupational therapist - this was when my confidence had fallen thru the floor.  He came to my house and was a great support.

I have no regret I was supported by the Irish public system.  But, please remember I’m only one case: one swallow does not make a summer. 

This won’t be easy.  That’s the point.  Rory was a one-off.  There has never been a doctor like him, nor will there ever be.  He died on Friday.  I went to his ‘removal’ - more a walk up to his open coffin - yesterday. Tears through my body.  

I’ll never get on with the poem if I dwell on what it felt like for me…

These are his death notices:  here, & The Irish Times 

Rory Lehane (this is your first draft… there will be many)

You are a difficult man to write
a person without parallel,
a cluster of energy
that has never been seen
in  my lifetime…

I walk from your graveside:
that pile of stones and earth yours,
those flowers here for you.
You rest below the surface,
deep in the minds 
of your congregations.

A church service,
a song,
a nave full of prayers.

How can I compare you,
put you in context,
encapsulate you in frame,
reach you with words
that limit you?

Waiting for you to arrive was a public experience:
the surgery, the hole in the wall
through which a secretary frowned.
You were late back from seeing someone.
I had no idea where you’d been,
you were a mystery to me.

And then you came
with undoctorly energy.
- I came to know your entrances
as a returning warrior
bustled back to court
with the glow of battle
for the noble cause.

Your crumpled pinstripes,
disheveled tie,
indominitable focus,
the way you leant back in the chair,
assured me
"I’ll tend to your mind".

You stood beside me
as I lost my mind
and clung for your grip.
I showed you  my prescription,
you offered another medication:
attention, attention, attention. 

Your computer screen,
your toyful practice,
your complete disregard of time.
A waiting room full of a queue,
didn’t matter to you,
attender to people.

No time for the niceties of convention,
you did your doctoring your way
on your terms
without apology.

No selfish bone in body,
you were an absolute giver:
you gave away love
as if it was simply
air.

I’m told of fabulous fingers,
piano in Douglas golf club.
I imagine you never used a driver,
or pitched into the 18th:
for me, you were a clubhouse man,
music maker.

You composed love in a consulting room:
every crotchet that visited you
joined into a melody.
They came in staves,
clinging to lines they’d learned
from childhood days.

You closed the door on the past,
fixed me with an eye that wrapped.
Brought me into the moment,
I heard your assurance:
"we are going to fix you,
I am here for you:
you are a special case."

Oh, Rory Lehane,
you had so many special cases.
I found an inventor
the day I stumbled into your general practice.

You took my child into your heart,
as if she was your own… 

______________________________

Now I am getting more pleased with it: it is closer to saying what I want to say to Rory. [The first draft said: "And there I stop. It is too general.  There is no enough Rory detail there.  But it is good because it it what came straight out of me the first time I tried to write down my response to Rory." ]

Yes.  I do have to earn money.  I can’t simply sit around writing poetry, writing mental heath experiences, and twittering my life away.  There is a bottom line, and I’m on it.  I have a commission to fulfill.  If I don’t write about business today, I won’t get paid.  Worse, my client might give up on me, and go round bad-mouthing me…  

My reputation is precious.
It’s the only one I have.  I need to nurture it, help it flower and prune it for long-lasting health. I was recently told an editor from a national newspaper had "stopped following you on Twitter" because he thought all I did all day was tweet.

How disgusting! While others slave away, doing their best to earn a crust, omaniblog tweets his life away.  That’s the impression that newpaper Editor, that serious business person, took from my publishing behaviour.  No doubt he’s shared that impression with more than my wife -omanimot (the "Wiffe" - as I used to call her). 

But what will I write about today?
What aspect of business bothers me?  There is a good chance that if it bugs me, it’ll be bugging others.  There’s no way you can figure out a topic that everyone will be interested in.  So I may as well pick something that’s loud on my mind, and be guided by that.  Makes sense to you?

I’m challenged by the experience of an influential business person un-following me
… dumping me - and telling others he’s done that.  It matters to me, especially because I never knew he was following me. [On Twitter you don’t always know the real life identity of people who ‘follow’ you.]  Maybe I market myself too much?  Can you overdo marketing?  Can you drive people away from your business?  Of course.  I bet you dear reader you’ve been driven to switch off from some businesses because of the annoying way they projected their brand?

Can you overdo marketing?  
That’s it.  That’s what I’ll write about for Goodbiz.ie today. 

If I don’t share my report on the NSUE launch (by Minister for Mental Health John Moloney) on Monday, I might get distracted. I better crack on with telling you what happened…

Of course, hardly anyone knows what NSUE is. It’s an organisation that’s meant to give voice to Irish users of mental health services.  There is an international movement of users.  It’s growing more powerful.  Ireland is catching up with Scotland, for example, and parts of America. NSUE stands for National Service Users Executive. Isn’t that a catchy name! Rolls off the tongue eh.  But at least it sounds serious.

NSUE represents me.  
I’m a big user of the Irish mental health services.  I go to my doctor (GP) when I’ve worried I might be getting anxiety or depression.  I’m entitled to be a member of NSUE.  I voted in the elections NSUE held in the south of RoI.  If you think you might ever need to go to your doctor with anxiety or depression or any sort of mental stress, you’re entitled to join NSUE, and vote for people to represent you on the Executive of NSUE.  It’s important to say NSUE is not a new idea.  It was proposed years ago by the government-backed "A Vision for Change" group.  The "Vision" report said an organisation to represent users should be set up.  It’s been slow, hard work but NSUE is  getting there. There will be elections in the West soon.  There will be two elections in the East of Ireland after that: that includes Dublin. NSUE has two employees - all the rest are volunteers. The good news is that NSUE is getting itself into the conversations among policy makers.  The people who are making mental health service policy and performance review now have NSUE people involved.  The Users’ Movement will grow and grow…

Why say all this?
Since most people reading this won’t know about NSUE  I felt I had to  put Monday’s launch of a Survey of Users’ Views on Irish Mental Health in context.  At the same time, NSUE launched its Strategic Plan for 2010-2012.

Report on the day:

I went by train from Cork to Dublin. Met John Kidney and Declan Gould at we got off at Heuston Station. We were the Cork gang heading for Buswell’s Hotel across the road from the Irish Parliament, the Dail - a hotel used to holding famous press conferences.

I met all sorts of interesting and interested people. Jenny Kelly, chair of NSUE, arrived with a heavy bag of reports.  John Redican, chief executive (or whatever his job title is) was in splendid coat & hat. Liz Donovan, development officer of NSUE, asked me to take a few background photographs. There was a professional press photographer from Irish Independent. There was a TV crew. Tim O’Malley was there and I met him for the first time. Martin Rogan, the new mental health supremo for HSE (my phrase) spoke, and gave me his email and phone number. Jim Walsh from DCU (which has a great mental health change course) gave me his email.  Alan Malone (Clonmel), who was a candidate in the NSUE elections, Collette Dalgarno (who was elected) gave me her email. Charlotte Frorath (who works as treasurer for NSUE), Ted O’Shea from Killarney (already elected to NSUE exec)… and Marcus Hanratty, who chairs the consumer council at St Patrick’s Mental Hospital, spoke strongly from the floor of the meeting.

I put these few names down here so that I’ll be able to look back and remind myself what it was like. I’ll add some photographs, and in another post I’ll offer my analysis of what went on at the meeting.  I met the Minister.  I recorded all he said off the cuff on my iPhone and I hope to transcribe that too.

But now I have to rush off to a meeting and deal with other matters, like earning my living.