Showing posts with label CFS/ME. Show all posts
Showing posts with label CFS/ME. Show all posts

Tuesday, 14 November 2017

A True Story




I have tried to write about my stay in hospital for a long time now. I just keep staring at the empty screen page and wonder, what I could say. Actually, what I keep wondering is, what exactly happened. The most important question I'd like to get an answer some day is, why.

I have had nightmares every night since I got home, which is very unlike me.  I think it tells a lot about everything. It would be easier to handle, if I had the why part figured out. Any reason would do. But there's none. And that, my friends, is terrifying. Which is why I'm trying now to tell it all, as I feel it's a story needing to be told. Despite the fact that I am absolutely horrified to do so, as I suspect it will do me no good. But, as this seems to be the way how Finnish CFS/ME patients are treated in general now, it must be told. It can't continue like this, honestly. We need help.

As you know, I have had a medication for my rare illnesses that is not very traditional (it’s a research I’m voluntarily taken part of), and it has helped me a lot in these part two years. I have been able to live without constant fear, pain, and struggle that were part of my life before this particular medication. It has helped me to live a life that feels beautiful, meaningful, and worth living for. For bureaucratic reasons, this medication is now downright impossible. 

I tried to find a way to continue the medication through public healthcare. I thought that in modern society of Finland celebrating it’s 100th anniversary of independence this December, famous for its education, high-tech, and human rights, there would be a way to support the life, well-being, and health care of a citizen. I was confident I’d get help. I didn’t. I went to a Finnish hospital to get help. I came out in much worse condition I went in. 

I try to sum things up, but it’s not easy as there happened so much and there’s absolutely no sense in most of it. So please, bear with me. 


In the end, after many efforts, I got an invitation to go to the hospital for couple of days, to see how the medication works and to decide what to do with it. That’s what I was told. This is the first strange part. I was never told, that I was there in order for them to take the medication off and see how it goes. I only read it afterwards from the medical report that “the patient comes to hospital for the cancellation of the medication”. That teeny tiny little detail would have been nice to know. 

My medication was switched off on the day 3. (With no explanation, what on earth I did there the first two days - despite tiring myself, as I couldn’t rest or sleep.) About half an hour later I wasn’t able to move my legs or hands. My breathing got heavier, and I drifted from consciousness to near or full unconsciousness during the next days and nights. My sugar and temperature levels varied a lot, blood pressure dropped quite considerably during the next days. I was able to whisper at times, often I couldn’t do even that. I needed catheterization as I couldn’t feel my body. I had a UTI. I couldn’t speak or swallow or move if my eyes were open, and vice versa. It was too much for my system to do both. I was dehydrated. I needed to be fed. I needed to be turned in bed as I couldn’t move. There is no mention about most of this all in the medical report. (Oh, they did write I had no difficulties to close my eyes. Yay! I didn’t. That part is true. They only forgot to mention I couldn’t keep them open.)

The medical report states that cancellation of the medication completed successfully. I wouldn’t exactly choose a word “successfully”, unless they mean they didn’t kill the patient. I think we might have a bit different point of view here, as I think if a patient was able to walk, speak, eat, sit, write, see, wash her hair, even pee before the cancellation of the medicine, and after that wasn’t able to do one single thing of that list, and left the hospital struggling to be conscious just to get out of there as quickly as humanly possible… Well. I wouldn’t describe it as a success. I’d go for catastrophic.

Pain is something I am quite familiar with and used to, and I can handle it rather well. I’m so used to it, I don’t even notice it normally, but with the extreme noises in the stroke surveillance, resting was literally impossible. I couldn’t think my migraine and neuralgic pain away - even if I tried my best. (Practicing mindfulness in a room with 3 televisions on, surveillance equipment peeping, people talking and moving all day long, is not the easiest, I can tell you.) It turned out that as simple thing as painkillers was hard to get. But, on the other hand, medicine in general was a bit of an issue, as getting my myasthenia pills on time was not easy either. 

Most of the time I wasn’t able to eat myself as my muscles just denied all collaboration. I needed to be feed. Swallowing was so hard work I couldn’t drink enough, even if I knew how extremely important that was. Later it turned out my dehydration was in the verge of catastrophic already when I arrived in the hospital, but it was ridiculously hard to get simple iv saline – as, you know, that was one of the medication I was denied after the bureaucratic show. For 2,5 years I got regular saline infusions to support my hydration, nutrition, and malabsorption every 2-3 weeks. Suddenly it was considered possibly harmful. So, giving me some in hospital seemed to be a bit of an issue. (I mean, the basic natriumchlorid infusion, seriously? Dangerous? In dehydration?) 

I have a very impressive medical, scientific justification for this simple iv saline treatment, and one of the reasons is that it supports my kidneys that are not functioning as they should. This important treatment was cancelled on beginning of September, and 3 weeks, 3 days later my body started to react. I have had now 3 antibiotics for UTI and there’s no sign of it getting better. The inflammation got very evident in hospital, but it was only because I repeatedly asked for the results, that anyone reacted. Oh, there is no mention of the UTI in the medical report.

A note about the catheterization. There is no mention about that in the medical report either. Nor about the fact that there was ca. 800ml urine in my bladder before the nurses put an indwelling catheter. Nor about the fact that after the chief doctor heard that nurses had put an indwelling catheter two days ago, and ordered them to take it off (as I just needed to get a grip and walk to the toilet), catheterization was needed several times as it’s just not possible to go to the toilet if you don’t feel your bladder, your legs, or the need to pee.


I left the hospital after 8 days, after two doctors (and half of the staff witnessing it all, no way to have some intimacy) came to tell me they have “interpreted your 2 years old ENMG results again and decided you never had myasthenia”, instead they gave me a psychiatric diagnosis. Yes, I’m serious. Don’t laugh. This is not a joke, unfortunately. They told me I can choose to stay in hospital for several weeks or go home. After few hours of hard thinking, I choose to go home, as I knew nothing would change either way. Only, in my papers there’s no mention they gave me option to go home. I’ve received about 4 reports now stating the patient left the hospital without permission. 

Past few years I have heard a doctor after doctor saying that with all the different autoimmune diseases, all the autonomic nervous system dysfunctions, all the rare conditions, it’s impossible to say what’s what and it’s hard to find effective ways to help. But now, suddenly, it’s all psychological, my mind causing it all. That would be a teeny tiny bit easier to accept without few facts.

First. “Patient has no psychiatric problems nor need for psychiatric care” reads in my papers, written by the chief psychiatric of the same hospital some months ago, just to be sure my problems are somatic, not psychological. 

Second. I have measurable test results showing my medical treatment actually works, but they didn’t want to see it. In fact, they didn’t read the medical justification for my treatment either, as “there’s no point, you imagine it all”. As a researcher myself, I do actually highly object it. How is it possible that pure facts are ignored, and instead things are arranged to look like they wanted? In science, it’s called forgery. I doubt it’s different in medical science either.

Third. For all the years anyone who has even tried to solve the mystery of my several rare illnesses and their combination, how they affect each other, and how to help me, not once, not one single time they have hinted that this might all might be psychological. (With the exception of one doctor shouting that accusation at me when insanely furious, but that wasn’t a diagnosis way of expression, that’s was only an insult.) I had an accident and got a brain injury. I imagine it? It’s psychological? I have alfa1-antitrypsine deficiency. I imagine the deficiency of ATT in my blood and also, I imagine the genotype MZ? I imagine Ehlers-Danlos syndrome? (Not to mention psoriasis, migraine, asthma, all the discus generations, POTS…?) Several doctors have diagnosed that I have a severe dysfunction of autonomic nervous system, and it’s even measurable, but it’s only in my imagination? I’m also totally imagining also the dysfunction of dopamine system? Oh, and myasthenia gravis? Imagination too…

And maybe fourth, I should mention here the obvious. There’s no point in hiding or trying to avoid it. After all that happened, there’s no point denying that the switch of diagnosis was purely personal revenge with no medical justification. All that was left out of the medical report, all the bend or even false things there, all the contradiction between what I was told in person and what is said in the reports, all the promises of help, even the promise of not changing diagnosis, not to mention the “care”… 

I have no faith in Finnish public health care anymore. Anyone knowing a good lawyer?

Tuesday, 31 October 2017

Good Enough




I'm home. I'll tell you everything that happened in hospital, later, when I am ready. Thank you for all your love, support, and kindness, my dear friends all over the world. You can't imagine how much your encouragement mean to me. You reminded me about the beauty of life, of friendship, of hope, when I needed it.

I didn't get any help from Finnish public health care. What I did get was an experience that could cause nightmares for a long time if I'd choose that way. Which I won't. Life is too precious, too beautiful, and too fragile to spend in bitterness, negativity, and hatred. So, I surround myself with all things beautiful in life, with as much love as humanly and heavenly possible, with smile, with gratitude. And, I'll find a way. If one door closes, there are plenty of others, and after that, windows...

I have lived my whole life being honest and real, just me, not pretending to be anything more, anything less. This incident thought me one thing. Being honest isn't always the best way to deal with bureaucracy. Being just myself isn't always good enough for someone wanting to think ill of me. Being honest and real gives others so much weapons that being real might turn against us. But you know what? I have thought this a lot, and cannot regret, as I can look at the mirror and smile to myself, I can stand behind my words and behaviour. I don't need to regret anything. Being just the real me has always been the right thing in the end.

One song fits so well to my thoughts I'd love to share it with you.  (You see, I'm really back, with all the quotes and songs.) I've told you many times how much the lyrics of Finnish artist and song writer Juha Tapio mean to me. They give me strength, hope, and courage. This song, Kelpaat kelle vaan, is one of them. "You made it, and you're good enough for anyone." I think we all need to hear it sometimes, we made it, we are enough. Just as we are, real me and you, it's enough.


Kelpaat kelle vaan/ You're Good Enough for Anyone
Juha Tapio


For a moment still, this side of the world

for a moment still, sleeps a white night

You wonder how something can hurt so much

Your best years, they were all stamped on the ground



I can't know even half of your pain

all the words stay useless in the air

but in one morning, I know it,

you wake up to see

you made it, and you're good enough for anyone



And you're beautiful, even though you don't feel like it anymore,

even though they took your faith in humans

For a moment still, half of the world sleep

just a moment still, the bright morning will arise



I can't know even half of your pain

all the words stay useless in the air

but in one morning, I know it,

you wake up to see

you made it, and you're good enough for anyone

Thursday, 12 October 2017

An update



Now the situation is… We CFS/ME patients in Finland are treated like lunatics. I have heard of urgent invitations for psychiatric examinations, of diagnosis codes changed from neurological to psychiatric, prescriptions gone missing in the national medical database. Officials state now that the proper treatment for CFS/ME in Finland will be GET and CBT, even if these treatments are considered word wide as highly questionable. This all happening in Finland, celebrating the 100th anniversary of independence. 

As for myself, I’m in hospital right now, as my public healthcare clinic promised to look into my condition. I have been here now two days, and only things happening are that although nurses are very friendly, I really need to look after myself. I don’t get my myasthenia gravis medication unless I specifically ask for it, and it’s a vital medical treatment, after all, for MG. My hydration levels are too low, and my kidneys are not functioning well, but nobody is interested. Usually I’m extremely well looked after in hospital, not now. It seems nobody wants to do a thing in fear of consequences. Not even basic medical care.

I was told today that the official stand of public healthcare is now that they will not support my medical treatment that I have had for 2 years and 2 months without any side effects or harm. They do admit that it’s good for me, that I need it. But they won’t prescribe the medicine for me now that my own doctor can’t. (He can’t because officials have restricted his rights, even if this is not actually legally justifiable decision.) In fear of consequences by bureaucrats. And that's a direct quote.

They admit I have so many rare illnesses that nobody knows how I react to medicines. So they are now trying to figure out or experiment how they could replace a medical treatment that is scientifically justified and used for two years with excellent results. Because of bureaucracy, the medical treatment supporting my autonomic nervous system will be closed down, and nobody knows how I’ll react. This is more like torture than proper medical care. Patients can and must be treated individually and off label treatments can be used if they are medically justified and safe, says Valvira, the bureau responsible for this. And not single one doctor in Finland dares to do so now. 
I won’t give up. I need plans B-Å now, but I’ll go through every one of them. I’ll stay in hospital for couple of days now, but I’m determined to go home and find a way to continue the one treatment helping me to cope and balance with all my conditions, among them myasthenia gravis, alpha-1-antitrypsine deficiency, Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, CFS/ME, brain injury and much more. There must be a way to find justice for me, for other Finnish CFS/ME patients, and the doctor in trouble now after trying to treat patients as humans.

Wednesday, 11 October 2017

Is This Really Happening?



Can you believe it? I'm in hospital now, and it's officially the first time in my very fragile life I'm honestly fearing for my life. In hospital. In Finland celebrating the 100th anniversary of independence. Highly educated, highly polished, highly praised country of Scandinavian high technology, sophistication, science, and civil rights. 

I have with me a huge folder of scientific medical research texts, official statements, all stating that I need and are entitled for my empirical research medication, to the point of molecule level justification why I need this medication keeping me literally breathing and alive. (The one bureaucrats decided to take away from me when they decided to restrict the rights of my M.D. without legally pounding justification. The one bureaucrats admit I need but nobody wants the responsibility to write prescriptions.)

And what I hear? After a whole exhausting day of taking care I get my "appropriate and real" myasthenia gravis medication on time (the one this specific clinic has prescript in the first place), as I need it every 2 hours and not once got it without especially asking for it, I heard matter-of-factly "your treatment will be closed down tomorrow". Yes, you heard me. Closed down, not like "we'll discuss about your medical issues tomorrow" or "we'll think about this medical treatment tomorrow" or even “we have read all the papers and decided…”. I'd be very interested indeed to hear the scientific justification for the decision if I wouldn't be this terrified. 

How this can be happening in a highly-sophisticated country like Finland? They don't listen to an individual experience of a citizen nor scientific facts. Just because, you know, power feels so damn good.

Wednesday, 4 October 2017

Lost into the Machine





Rainy candlelit autumn evening, just perfect setting for some writing. Nothing has changed in the absurd health situation, yet. Probably won't either, but at least I've tried my best. A wonderful journalist came today for an interview, I'll tell you when it's in the paper. I got a phone call from the chief physician of my hospital clinic, and I'm now going there for a week, next Wednesday. Then we'll know more. The problem is, though, they'll have absolutely no way of knowing how to take care of me, so I need to write a manual... I've too many experiences of how I've been given wrong medicine in hospital or nobody knowing what to do when I fell unconscious. But I hope this is sorted out somehow now. I want to believe in miracles. I believe in miracles. It's just that I don't believe in health care system, Finnish authorities, or their humanity anymore.

One unpleasant surprise today was to find out my kidneys don't like that they are left without one essential treatment because of all "this". I've got infusions for 2,5 years, every 3 weeks. Then, in the beginning of September, someone suddenly decided it might be harmful, as there is the name of the banned doctor in my medical papers. So now, 3 days after I should (in normal situation) have had the infusion, my body does not understand that it has been denied the essential care, and starts to be cranky. Now I need antibiotics. How nice. Plain old natriumchlorid was thought to be harmful for me (after 2,5 years of no side effects whatsoever) and immediately after it was denied, I need antibiotics as my kidneys can't handle the situation. Antibiotics are just fine? I feel like lost in a crazy wonderland of bureaucratic nightmare. Naturally I have a song for that too. Koneeseen kadonnut. (Lost into the Machine.)


 Lost into the Machine
Juha Tapio/Toni Wirtanen

What's lost into the machine
you can't get back
worn out, used
to feed the circle

Maybe (we) trusted too much,
that the time fixes
that, which for (we) made
so much effort

to bring down
that, what was meant to be beautiful

Pain dies by shouting
naked on the floor
how long it lasts
no, that can't be known

Who is hurting and how much
that's probably the only question any longer
when we've reached the point
when nothing is certain

The longest hours in the, world
you get stuck in their grip
you carry them the until the end
though you don't always realise it

What kind of is that heaven
That we never found
I have heard so much about it
some of it even from my own mouth

You can keep going as far
as you can convince yourself

Pain dies by shouting
naked on the floor
how long it lasts
no, that can't be known

Who is hurting and how much
that's probably the only question left
when we've reached the point
when nothing is certain

Some of us are unhappy
burned but numb
penitent but unfaithful
more than restless

The principle is absolute
argument is solid
equation maybe impossible

What do you mean, as if merciless?

Pain dies by shouting
naked on the floor
how long it lasts
no, that can't be known

Who is hurting and how much
that's probably the only question left
when we've reached the point
when nothing is certain

very insufficient translation by harvinaisenkauniselama

Sunday, 1 October 2017

I'd Tell You


I have often been told to write a book about my story. About my unique, beautiful life. I'd love to. I'd tell you everything. 

How it feels to look through the eyes of death into the eternal light. 

How it feels to touch the hand of God, how it feels to let it go and come back. 

How it feels to get another chance to live, how it feels to understand that the pain is not over, it will continue, until you touch the hand of God once again, and still being grateful for the chance. 

How it feels to understand you have this only one chance, that even with the creased, grumbled body nobody knows how to handle, it's your only one, and it's only you who can make it either beautiful and precious, or indifferent path of bitterness and dark pain.

How it feels when you don't know if this is the last breathe or if your body still gets the strength to take another one, there, just there, in front of your children, about the evenings lying unconscious on the floor and your children covering you with a blanket of love.

How it feels to hear your heart might now have finally given up, to see the worried, kind eyes of a doctor and accepting it all.

How it feels to realise you have to give up your life, your dreams, your entire being, your self, and start all over again.
 
How it took so many years, so many tears, through the pain, through the sorrow, through the illnesses, through a brain injury, through oh so much, to get here where and who I am today, me just as I am, with nothing else, nothing more, or nothing less.

How it feels to understand you need to be strong enough to live but vulnerable enough to love.

Only, I might never get the chance. If I do, I will. I promise. As this is the beautiful, unique life of mine. And remember, yours is too.

Thursday, 28 September 2017

Waiting for a Miracle



"Waiting for a miracle to come", wrote my favourite poet Leonard Cohen. You know the moments in life when you are too tired to wait, too tired to dream, too tired to hope? Then you also know that you do it anyway, because there is no choice.

I’m getting tired. Confused. Sad. Angry. Frustrated. Lost. Negative feelings I don’t like to feel as they are too consuming. Today I allow myself to cry and feel afraid and any feelings that keep appearing in my fragile, shattered body. Only, I cannot do it but few seconds at a time, otherwise they are too much. I’m not losing hope, I just can’t.

I have so much to say I simply cannot say a thing. The thoughts crumble over, they are as shattered and confused as I am. I cannot help wondering how it is that this happened again. You know, I used years and years to build a steady life from shattered pieces that used to be me. I worked hard. I did it. And suddenly, here I am again, collecting those pieces, deciding once again that this is my life and I’ll make most of it. Only, now that I know how it could be, how it was, I am – first time in my life – near a feeling called bitterness. Because, I had it all.


After years and years of fighting for my rights for decent life and help, I got it. I found a doctor able and willing to help me. Who helped me fighting for my rights in this piece of land called Finland to have medical care I needed and was entitled for. (Oh my, I am going to tell you all about it soon, but it’s a long story for another time.) I could build a new life from scratches. I had to give up my beloved research job. I had to give up most of things. What I did not give up was my dignity, my ability to see beauty in the little things, the gift to believe in miracles. Every single morning the past few years I have been grateful for being alive, as, you know, even that has not always been so certain either.

Do you know how it feels to live in constant fear of something happening that will destroy your life in an instant? I’ve learnt to live with it. Every single evening I have thanked my God that this day wasn’t it. I got one more day. After those years of nightmare, these past few years of light, middle of that familiar nightmare again. Fighting for my rights. Trying to get someone believing me, someone listening in me. Only, this time it is more serious than ever, and just cannot accept it how easily bureaucracy can destroy people. In a blink of an eye, and it’s done, no matter the consequences. Like, in my case, my life.


I just won’t accept anymore going back to the nightmare. I know better now. I know what it is to live a decent life, being able to breathe easily, being able to see, to speak (even my poor Finnish is better than none), to stand without help, to be able to go to bathroom on my own, getting out of bed by myself. I won’t accept any more being in constant fear of death, every single day, in front of my little children who will be afraid too if their mother will die now, this evening, tomorrow, or next week. I won’t go back to the life I fell unconscious for hours, couldn’t move, couldn’t see. I know I have rare illnesses, and a serious brain injury. I must live with them every single day, I have learnt to. I know my limits, I can laugh to my desperately poor memory, my lack of ability to remember to numbers at a time. That I need to rest after taking five steps. But I won’t accept anymore that I need to crawl on the floor because I cannot move in any other way. That I cannot understand what people say to me, to live in a fog thicker than universe, with no knowledge if it is real or imagined. I just won’t. I would have to accept it, if it would be because of my body crumbling. But no. It’s not that. It’s purely because of some bureaucrats deciding they just don’t like this one doctor. And making decision based on fake, forged proof, wrong assumptions, and personal issues. (This is another subject I have a lot to say about, but not now.)  Destroying my life. The life of our family. The life of thousands of other patients. I just won’t accept it.

I am still waiting for the miracle, but I also know that most miracles need a bit more than a prayer, a fairy godmother, and a wish. They need hard work. They need courage. I am not strong enough for hard work, but courage is the one I have left with. So that will have to do.


Wednesday, 20 September 2017

Long Live the Tears!


 

My favourite time of year is here; autumn has arrived, slowly and gently. The scent of homemade apple juice fills the air, I found myself lighting the candles in the evenings, and I can see stars in the sky again. (Did you know that during the summer, sun hardly sets at night?) My husband drove me to the forest a while ago, as I love the autumn forest with the scent, the soft air, and beautiful colours. Not to mention all the berries and mushrooms. Because we don't know what the future will bring us now that I'm denied by bureaucrats the vital medical care, we decided now or never, I should take the risk, and go outside our home, sit a car for five minutes and then sit in the forest, and vice versa. For you it might sounds like no biggie, but for me it's a huge effort, needing several days to recover. But it was worth it! I sat and watched as children picked chanterelles and berries for a pie, inhaled the fresh air and smiled. The pines older than time reached to the sky, hummed their soothing song and whispered it will all be all right.


Now, it doesn't seem like all right though, as not one single authority takes responsibility of anything remotely related to my healthcare. Or, well, that's not correct. I got an answer from Valvira, the kind and lovely bureau behind all my problems. I asked them (again) what they will do now that public healthcare - in my case the clinic taking care of my myasthenia - has said they won't take the responsibility as Valvira suggested. After reading their answer, I blinked twice and read the letter again. Then I had two options: either cry or laugh. I decided to go for the latter. Can you believe it? They kindly praised me for finally going to public health care and asking for a missive for the specialist medical care. (We need one here in Finland if we want for special healthcare in hospital clinics.) Oh my. This really makes me think how well they read their papers? I'm a bit worried now how much else they just don't read or understand? As I have told them I have been taken a good care for my myasthenia for several years now in this special clinic. In the more basic public health care side of things, I have had a good doctor for 9 years now trying to help me. Now they wrote that it's a good thing I finally has asked for help from public healthcare and asked for a missive for special medical healthcare. Wow. Thank you so very much Valvira, but that's kind of covered years ago with the myasthenia gravis diagnosis. As you would have known if you have bothered reading my letter properly - or for that matter - have any knowledge of the healthcare of rare illnesses. 


Oh, that was not all. That first one almost made me cry for fear, as it sounds terrifying. The one Finnish bureau responsible for the "safety" of patients and healthcare and therefore having decided my doctor might have used possibly harmful medical treatments which they cannot show any proof of... They don't read papers or have understanding how the medical care of rare illnesses is taken care of in real life. Nice. And so, so reassuring. 

Well, I decided not to cry because they lightened the mood so thoughtfully with this sentence:  "You should open-mindedly discuss - not only demanding the medicine you want - about your symptoms, diagnoses, and options of medical care with a specialist." Well, well. Thank you for the advice, but I happen to be familiar with the concept of good manners, believe it or not. And, what? I told them I have contacted my specialist doctor and discussed about things (very politely and nicely, if I may say so myself, as I have no intentions whatsoever to destroy the good relationship to the only doctors now taking care of me, thank you very much, I do still have some of my IQ left even after the brain injury) and they cannot help me.


What would you, my dear reared, think if you have just sent a letter to officials telling them you have contacted the specialist and discussed about the symptoms, diagnosis, and options of medical care and after the discussion, have been told that no, they cannot take responsibility, and now ask for further advice from the officials what to do in the mess they created in the first place, and get an advice to do remember good manners? Yes. You can either cry or laugh. I cannot cry, as it is too energy consuming, so I rather choose laughing as often as possible, as it's very healthy for my dopamine levels and feels so much nicer.


You know me by now, don't you? Always quoting something. Maybe it's a habit from the researcher side still living somewhere deep inside me. So naturally I found a song lyrics perfectly fitting this situation.

One of my favourite Finnish artists, maybe the one, as I just love how he put so much loving, gentle encouragement to lyrics, is Juha Tapio. I have been listening to him lately a lot, as I need some encouragement myself. This song, Eläköön (meaning long live), explains my feelings and thoughts better I could ever even try. So, please, you darling friend of mine. Even if you don't understand Finnish, please listen this while reading this translation, as the music is essential part of the message here, that tells more than thousand words. (Sorry my not so poetic translation, even the long live does not work well, as Viva would explain the meaning better.) Oh, how beautiful life is when living in a world of someone putting your thoughts into words for you. Thank you, Juha Tapio, you give me courage to go against the back current, and sing, long live the tears.

Long Live
lyrics Juha Tapio

To wonder the steady brightness of the cold nights
The rage of the oceans, and albatross,
The fingertips, the kiss, and the sky of the skin,
The clouds in the sandy road after the rain.

That’s why I sing 
"long live days that ran to the evening, 
their joys and works,
the courage to go against the back current, 
long live the tender nights 
and the love even scarred one,
sorrow too, the shards,
 because I needed that too, 
long live the tears".

To wonder the forest, 
the vastness of the continent, 
the gaze and wisdom of the new born, 
the lines of our faces and the star maps, 
to wonder the city in the twilight.

That’s why I sing 
"long live days that ran to the evening, 
their joys and works,
the courage to go against the back current, 
long live the tender nights 
and the love even scarred one, 
sorrow too, the shards, 
because I needed that too, 
long live the tears”.


Translation by harvinaisenkauniselama