It's back to being somewhat cold and cloudy out-we did have our summer! And I have to admit that I am just as unsettled as the weather...
This has been a very weird week. Suddenly it's Saturday, and I haven't accomplished one tenth-or, maybe, one hundredth-of the things I wanted to do this week. Truthfully, I've been both tired and down. My upstairs neighbour-the neighbour from Hell, and everyone I know has stories about these kinds of people-has been playing his music (or, what HE calls music!!) throughout the night. I truly wish I could move out-but I'm not at the stage (yet!!) where I have the focus and balance I need to really start looking. Soon-I hope!!
My vestibular physiotherapist was pleased with my progress; she really encouraged me by reminding me how far I have come in nearly 19 months. So-I see her in six weeks' time, and I have to really work very hard before then, because that is supposed to be my final assessment. As long as I am accountable to her, I know I have to do the work. Every day!! No time off, no being lazy: work, work, work. If it means getting that 80% back-and, who knows, I could get more than that, because, really, nobody knows enough about the brain and its' workings to say categorically that I might-and I do mean, might-get a lot more back than I have now (well, wasn't that a run-on sentence? Oh, well!!).
I was checking out some things online - just doing nothing important - and I had this feeling. I don't know, perhaps it was a hunch of some kind, perhaps I was just reminiscing about the past (ruminating again, not the best use of my time), and I googled the photographer who took my engagement photos-about a hundred years ago, it seems. He was a great photographer-and I was shocked and horrified to see a tribute online. He died in 2005. I was upset for the rest of the day, and I can't explain that, either, since I haven't seen him in-oh, about 15 years. Looking back can be a very dangerous (and depressing) route to take, especially when you are already dealing with so much.
I moped around yesterday, and I tried to figure out what was up with me. I think I finally realized how quickly time is passing, and that life is really, really short. It doesn't matter how old we are, life is still short, and when a day goes, it is gone forever. Time is important; living each moment to the full is important, because there might not be another one.
The mindfulness/Buddhist people have it right, I think: keep your attention on the present, not the past or the future. And-if that was so easy to do, everyone would be doing it, and all the counsellors and therapists would go out of business!!
I'm doing more than walking and the other exercises I've been prescribed. Now I'm looking at every movement - head movements, especially) to see which ones cause dizziness. I've avoided doing those up until now-but I now seek them out and do them as often as possible. I'm not bonkers, honestly!! The more I do them, the harder my brain works to create new pathways so that I won't keep getting dizzy. This is what my physio tells me.
I never used to give a second thought about the brain, or my eyes, or my legs, or any abilities of any kind (like breathing, for example. You just do it, not really thinking about it). Now I realize just how lucky I am.
Saturday, 31 March 2012
Wednesday, 28 March 2012
Tempus Fugit (and too bloomin' quickly, too)
Doesn't time fly!! It seems to pass at warp speed-or maybe I am just getting older (considering the consequences, I'll take that option!!).
I had my scan on Monday, and I must have irradiated everyone within a square mile of the hospital. I joked with the tech (who destroyed my arm, as he tried -unsuccessfully - to find a vein for the cannula) about the fact that people will be sterilized as I pass by. As it turns out, he said (and very seriously, too) that I must stay away from pregnant women and young children for four hours after the scan, as the radiation could prove damaging to them. Errr...and what does the radiation do to me, then? He suggested that it is worth it, just to discover if there is any malignancy or inflamation anywhere in the body. Huh-maybe for him, but I'm the one who got the radioactive junk in my arm!!
Never mind-I'm quite certain that everything will be normal. I'm going to have to hang around for a very long time - so I can be a pain in the backside to everyone!! LOL!!!!
I said that I would back off Homes for Haringey-I didn't say I wouldn't blog about them. They can sue me-and what will they get, apart from a load of damaging publicity? Not much, I can tell you. Oh-and Lynne Featherstone, MP for Haringey, has contacted the police commissioner about this whole nasty business, so nothing is finished yet. The fat lady hasn't sung, as they say. (and, just in case you think I am really, truly giving up on this, I can also say that I have contacted the media. Give up? Quit? Hell, no!!!)
So that brings you up to date. I have started doing my vestibular exercises again, and I am doing all the things I am supposed to be doing. I am also trying to remain very upbeat about life and everything that has happened-although I do find that so difficult!!
Recovery from this awful screw-up on the part of the hospital has its peaks and troughs. Some days are better than others. Today is one of the good days-following a few awful days, when it was extremely difficult to walk without falling over.
It is as Dr Dimples told me: some days are good, some days aren't, and I have to ride out those really awful ones if I want to have a decent life. He also said not to give up, and that it is only early days (I don't call 19 months early days, but what do I know?).
I feel like the Energizer bunny, with batteries that need replacing! But-I just keep going. And part of me wonders what on earth is going to happen next!! I AM working on staying positive, but I am no Polyanna, and I can tell you again that nothing comes easily. That doesn't mean I will give up-not until they put me in the ground!
And-my good friend Nancy sent me some dip recipes-so here come the Kettle Chips!! How bad can life be?
I had my scan on Monday, and I must have irradiated everyone within a square mile of the hospital. I joked with the tech (who destroyed my arm, as he tried -unsuccessfully - to find a vein for the cannula) about the fact that people will be sterilized as I pass by. As it turns out, he said (and very seriously, too) that I must stay away from pregnant women and young children for four hours after the scan, as the radiation could prove damaging to them. Errr...and what does the radiation do to me, then? He suggested that it is worth it, just to discover if there is any malignancy or inflamation anywhere in the body. Huh-maybe for him, but I'm the one who got the radioactive junk in my arm!!
Never mind-I'm quite certain that everything will be normal. I'm going to have to hang around for a very long time - so I can be a pain in the backside to everyone!! LOL!!!!
I said that I would back off Homes for Haringey-I didn't say I wouldn't blog about them. They can sue me-and what will they get, apart from a load of damaging publicity? Not much, I can tell you. Oh-and Lynne Featherstone, MP for Haringey, has contacted the police commissioner about this whole nasty business, so nothing is finished yet. The fat lady hasn't sung, as they say. (and, just in case you think I am really, truly giving up on this, I can also say that I have contacted the media. Give up? Quit? Hell, no!!!)
So that brings you up to date. I have started doing my vestibular exercises again, and I am doing all the things I am supposed to be doing. I am also trying to remain very upbeat about life and everything that has happened-although I do find that so difficult!!
Recovery from this awful screw-up on the part of the hospital has its peaks and troughs. Some days are better than others. Today is one of the good days-following a few awful days, when it was extremely difficult to walk without falling over.
It is as Dr Dimples told me: some days are good, some days aren't, and I have to ride out those really awful ones if I want to have a decent life. He also said not to give up, and that it is only early days (I don't call 19 months early days, but what do I know?).
I feel like the Energizer bunny, with batteries that need replacing! But-I just keep going. And part of me wonders what on earth is going to happen next!! I AM working on staying positive, but I am no Polyanna, and I can tell you again that nothing comes easily. That doesn't mean I will give up-not until they put me in the ground!
And-my good friend Nancy sent me some dip recipes-so here come the Kettle Chips!! How bad can life be?
Sunday, 25 March 2012
and one more thing
I forgot to mention that tomorrow is my PET scan. Every part of the body that isn't quite right will light up like a Christmas tree (allegedly), and I will be irradiating everyone within a square mile. I'm sure that nothing exciting will surface, but it will be interesting to see what it all looks like - if they show me.
All those people will be unable to have children, and it will be all my doing (of course that isn't so, but it does sound amusing). I said this to the consultant, and he didn't even crack a smile. He did say that he will be taking the day off.
All those people will be unable to have children, and it will be all my doing (of course that isn't so, but it does sound amusing). I said this to the consultant, and he didn't even crack a smile. He did say that he will be taking the day off.
The lesson of fighting injustice
I heard someone say - a long time ago- and it was sage advice that didn't come from my mother!! - that the fool stands and fights, and the sage walks away. Perhaps that is a good lesson I could learn from insisting to fight Haringey, well known to be one of the worst councils in England when it comes to bullying, abuse, racism and just bare-faced lies-not to mention scurrilous rumours spread about any person who dares put their head above the parapet and complain about the shabby and despicable treatment!!
I thought about the entire situation-for more time than these people deserve- and I have decided that it is more important for me to do my exercises every day, and to have plenty of water, and to do all the things the vestibular physio and my neurologist have told me to do if I really want to get that 80% back. If I stop working hard every day, and if I continue to allow these worthless prats to aggravate me and cause huge amounts of stress, they win-and I won't get better. I can already tell the difference in my balance and vision in the last ten days: everything has gotten substantially worse.
It's a setback, not a relapse. I can correct this and move forward-but I have to let the Haringey thing go. Even the solicitor I consulted last week told me that Haringey has always encouraged (by turning a very blind eye to it) bullying and racism by its' staff. So I will get back to doing what is really important. Anyone else who wants to fight can do so with my blessing. And God help them!!
I went to a conference yesterday. It was in central London, and the place was packed. I got the chance to meet Liz and John, who are the people who started UKPIPS, the charity in which I have chosen to become involved. I'm really glad I decided to go, because primary immunodeficiency is a lot closer to my heart than these total morons from Homes for Haringey. At least I will be surrounded by positive, passionate, dedicated people who really do want to help others. There were a few -what my ex would have called "york and lankers" - and I leave that to anyone reading this in the UK who knows what the Cockney slang represents!!! LOL I'm getting so very PC in my dotage, I can tell you!!!!
Most of the people who spoke at the conference had a great deal of knowledge and the willingness to share it - so I learned a lot. But I struggled to get home (took me two hours for a normally 40 minute journey), and I was really knackered when I got there. But-the weather is lovely, sunny and warm, the clocks have gone forward, so it will be easier for me to go out at night (at least for longer than before), and what the hell-sometimes you are just fighting a battle that seems impossible to win.
I didn't win this one-but I didn't lose it, either, because I learned a valuable lesson: I learned when to walk away. Just shrug my shoulders, chalk it up to experience, and walk. I've got a more important battle to fight: the battle to get as much balance and vision back as I can. This other crap is just extraneous, really unimportant, and derailing me from my purpose.
And, by the way, there is an old New York expression (this one I did get from my mother, who got it from my grandfather, and so on...): what goes around, comes around. Someone else will hang this lot out to dry.
I've got a life to live, and I don't know how long I am going to be here (does anyone?). So, if I am going to fight a battle, it had better be for something really important!
I've got a friend overseas who keeps in touch with me-sporadically, but we do keep in touch. He is-would you believe- a lawyer!!!! When I was over there, working, we were on some committees together. I really fancied him, but he was married, and I never go there. Ever. Now he is not married-and I only discovered after I returned to London that he fancied me, too. How funny is the fact that I crack jokes about lawyers, but I fancy one!! Like in every other profession, there are good ones and not so good ones. That's life: good people and rather less than good people.
I do occasionally wonder if one thing would have led to another, and how far things would have gone if I hadn't left. It's probably only of anecdotal significance-but, as I said, fantasies can be so much more fun than reality!!!
There is life in this woman yet!!
I thought about the entire situation-for more time than these people deserve- and I have decided that it is more important for me to do my exercises every day, and to have plenty of water, and to do all the things the vestibular physio and my neurologist have told me to do if I really want to get that 80% back. If I stop working hard every day, and if I continue to allow these worthless prats to aggravate me and cause huge amounts of stress, they win-and I won't get better. I can already tell the difference in my balance and vision in the last ten days: everything has gotten substantially worse.
It's a setback, not a relapse. I can correct this and move forward-but I have to let the Haringey thing go. Even the solicitor I consulted last week told me that Haringey has always encouraged (by turning a very blind eye to it) bullying and racism by its' staff. So I will get back to doing what is really important. Anyone else who wants to fight can do so with my blessing. And God help them!!
I went to a conference yesterday. It was in central London, and the place was packed. I got the chance to meet Liz and John, who are the people who started UKPIPS, the charity in which I have chosen to become involved. I'm really glad I decided to go, because primary immunodeficiency is a lot closer to my heart than these total morons from Homes for Haringey. At least I will be surrounded by positive, passionate, dedicated people who really do want to help others. There were a few -what my ex would have called "york and lankers" - and I leave that to anyone reading this in the UK who knows what the Cockney slang represents!!! LOL I'm getting so very PC in my dotage, I can tell you!!!!
Most of the people who spoke at the conference had a great deal of knowledge and the willingness to share it - so I learned a lot. But I struggled to get home (took me two hours for a normally 40 minute journey), and I was really knackered when I got there. But-the weather is lovely, sunny and warm, the clocks have gone forward, so it will be easier for me to go out at night (at least for longer than before), and what the hell-sometimes you are just fighting a battle that seems impossible to win.
I didn't win this one-but I didn't lose it, either, because I learned a valuable lesson: I learned when to walk away. Just shrug my shoulders, chalk it up to experience, and walk. I've got a more important battle to fight: the battle to get as much balance and vision back as I can. This other crap is just extraneous, really unimportant, and derailing me from my purpose.
And, by the way, there is an old New York expression (this one I did get from my mother, who got it from my grandfather, and so on...): what goes around, comes around. Someone else will hang this lot out to dry.
I've got a life to live, and I don't know how long I am going to be here (does anyone?). So, if I am going to fight a battle, it had better be for something really important!
I've got a friend overseas who keeps in touch with me-sporadically, but we do keep in touch. He is-would you believe- a lawyer!!!! When I was over there, working, we were on some committees together. I really fancied him, but he was married, and I never go there. Ever. Now he is not married-and I only discovered after I returned to London that he fancied me, too. How funny is the fact that I crack jokes about lawyers, but I fancy one!! Like in every other profession, there are good ones and not so good ones. That's life: good people and rather less than good people.
I do occasionally wonder if one thing would have led to another, and how far things would have gone if I hadn't left. It's probably only of anecdotal significance-but, as I said, fantasies can be so much more fun than reality!!!
There is life in this woman yet!!
Thursday, 22 March 2012
Nice day for a whitewash!
The last post seems to have published itself-my computer froze, and I couldn't continue. So annoying!!
I started to say that all I did was make a simple noise complaint-and, oh, how it escalated from there!! If I'd known at the time that it would cause all this uproar-and stress!!-would I have stuck my head above the parapet, only to have it shot at by Homes for Haringey? Hell, no-are you crazy?? Not in this (or any) lifetime. But I champion the underdog-and, in this case, the underdog is...well, me!!
I got a call this afternoon from Rachel Hawley, someone or other from Homes for Haringey-Bridge obviously palmed this all off on her. Talk about drawing the short straw!!
Hawley spent 40 minutes justifying all the actions of Toilet and Philippou (now known forever as the Spawn of Satan). Hawley denied any wrongdoing by either of them, and then said that Toilet never said that I am paranoid, etc, etc. Well-my source is a LOT more trustworthy than either Toilet or Hawley, so I know that is a load of crap (to coin a phrase). Hawley then went on to berate me for calling the staff at HforH a bunch of halfwits. Okay-so they aren't halfwits, they are dimwits. I stand my ground when I say they have less brains than a turnip.
Hawley then - and seriously, too,which made me nearly laugh out loud - said that maybe I have tinnitus and that made me think there was noise from the upstairs neighbour. I would have fallen off the chair, but I was standing. I said, no, I definitely do not have tinnitus-and I was too polite to tell her that she is basically full of shit.
When Hawley called me "frail", I denied this-I said, excuse me, but I am neither deaf nor senile, and I am far from frail. I may have no balance mechanism, but I am not the least bit frail. And she suggested I need help-and I said I am very offended by that suggestion. I then said I would be happy to have an independent assessment-before I could continue, she said that would be a good idea. I went on to say that I would agree to this - provided those two, Toilet and Spawn have one as well. Hawley didn't like that.
The outcome? Oh, Hawley said, shall we draw a line under this? I said, I expected a whitewash-and she was most miffed. I said that she needs to talk to both Toilet and Spawn of Satan (no, I didn't call them that on the phone. Hawley would probably have me arrested). No more accusations from them, no more contact at all, and no fired back accusations from me-no matter how justified these accusations may be.
Honestly-these people are so full of crap, it is really sad. And I think I have wasted far too much time trying to get some form of justice. Haringey Council and Homes for Haringey have a reputation that nestles comfortably between a backed-up toilet and a filthy, festering sewer. No surprise for the reputation, and no surprise that nothing will be done.
I stuck my neck out and complained against injustice. I did a public service!!
Oh, and I did see a lawyer-very nice, too. He suggested I leave it all alone, since the courts will not deal with any charges like these unless they are brought by the rich and famous. He also said that nothing will change-people have been accepting this from Haringey for years. Good advice. Time to leave it alone. And, really, who gives a rat's patootie what a load of morons say about me? If anyone from Haringey had anything between the ears, they would be dangerous. They aren't -they're just a royal pain in the arse.
I will, of course, remember to keep my head down. I'm not fighting for anyone else, either. Join the jobsworths. I should have been a politician (no, too honest).
I started to say that all I did was make a simple noise complaint-and, oh, how it escalated from there!! If I'd known at the time that it would cause all this uproar-and stress!!-would I have stuck my head above the parapet, only to have it shot at by Homes for Haringey? Hell, no-are you crazy?? Not in this (or any) lifetime. But I champion the underdog-and, in this case, the underdog is...well, me!!
I got a call this afternoon from Rachel Hawley, someone or other from Homes for Haringey-Bridge obviously palmed this all off on her. Talk about drawing the short straw!!
Hawley spent 40 minutes justifying all the actions of Toilet and Philippou (now known forever as the Spawn of Satan). Hawley denied any wrongdoing by either of them, and then said that Toilet never said that I am paranoid, etc, etc. Well-my source is a LOT more trustworthy than either Toilet or Hawley, so I know that is a load of crap (to coin a phrase). Hawley then went on to berate me for calling the staff at HforH a bunch of halfwits. Okay-so they aren't halfwits, they are dimwits. I stand my ground when I say they have less brains than a turnip.
Hawley then - and seriously, too,which made me nearly laugh out loud - said that maybe I have tinnitus and that made me think there was noise from the upstairs neighbour. I would have fallen off the chair, but I was standing. I said, no, I definitely do not have tinnitus-and I was too polite to tell her that she is basically full of shit.
When Hawley called me "frail", I denied this-I said, excuse me, but I am neither deaf nor senile, and I am far from frail. I may have no balance mechanism, but I am not the least bit frail. And she suggested I need help-and I said I am very offended by that suggestion. I then said I would be happy to have an independent assessment-before I could continue, she said that would be a good idea. I went on to say that I would agree to this - provided those two, Toilet and Spawn have one as well. Hawley didn't like that.
The outcome? Oh, Hawley said, shall we draw a line under this? I said, I expected a whitewash-and she was most miffed. I said that she needs to talk to both Toilet and Spawn of Satan (no, I didn't call them that on the phone. Hawley would probably have me arrested). No more accusations from them, no more contact at all, and no fired back accusations from me-no matter how justified these accusations may be.
Honestly-these people are so full of crap, it is really sad. And I think I have wasted far too much time trying to get some form of justice. Haringey Council and Homes for Haringey have a reputation that nestles comfortably between a backed-up toilet and a filthy, festering sewer. No surprise for the reputation, and no surprise that nothing will be done.
I stuck my neck out and complained against injustice. I did a public service!!
Oh, and I did see a lawyer-very nice, too. He suggested I leave it all alone, since the courts will not deal with any charges like these unless they are brought by the rich and famous. He also said that nothing will change-people have been accepting this from Haringey for years. Good advice. Time to leave it alone. And, really, who gives a rat's patootie what a load of morons say about me? If anyone from Haringey had anything between the ears, they would be dangerous. They aren't -they're just a royal pain in the arse.
I will, of course, remember to keep my head down. I'm not fighting for anyone else, either. Join the jobsworths. I should have been a politician (no, too honest).
Tuesday, 20 March 2012
And here is another fine mess I got myself into!
I'm still reeling a bit from all the nasty and untrue things that were said about me-just so Toilet could keep her job. Good heavens, talk about the woman being both vindictive AND incompetent-and a nasty little liar, too.
My MP, Lynne Featherstone, has now involved the police commander. Haringey has a police commander! Who knew?? My only contact with the old Bill has been with DC Bent-and I do wonder if he lives up to his name!! No wonder he is always in such a pissy little mood!!
We will see what happens now. And all this started with a simple noise complaint!!
I have spent most of my life in this country, and I should be used to all this b.s. by now. I must be a glutton for punishment!!
My MP, Lynne Featherstone, has now involved the police commander. Haringey has a police commander! Who knew?? My only contact with the old Bill has been with DC Bent-and I do wonder if he lives up to his name!! No wonder he is always in such a pissy little mood!!
We will see what happens now. And all this started with a simple noise complaint!!
I have spent most of my life in this country, and I should be used to all this b.s. by now. I must be a glutton for punishment!!
Sunday, 18 March 2012
Murphy's Law: the fertilizer flies both ways
I knew that some day this would happen: I would need a lawyer. They do come in handy sometimes-and, sadly, this is one of those times. So I am going to see one this week, and ask for intervention to stop this Toyin person (I keep calling her Toilet-how appropriate is that!!) from spreading her vicious and false malicious lies. I have irrefutable proof that everything she says about me is a lie-but why should I show that to Homes for Haringey? Let's face it: most of the people who work there haven't got the brains of a turnip. And if you fired everyone who had an IQ that struggled to go into double figures, there would probably be about 5 people left, who would sit around and play cards all day. They wouldn't do any work-but nobody there ever really does any work anyway, so how would you know the difference?
I will be on my best behaviour with the lawyer-and I won't think about my cousin, or the tshirt, because I would just start laughing. I won't even think about any lawyer jokes. Oh-that reminds me, I have a favourite lawyer joke.
How do you stop a lawyer from drowning? Take your foot off his head.
There you go, I have satisfied my lawyer joke needs, and can get onto the business at hand.
I'm really still upset. Even 8 weeks of mindfulness training, designed to help us live in the present, and concentrate on the breath in order to get there, haven't helped. I concentrated on my breath so intently that I suddenly discovered that I had forgotten to breathe. Eeek!!! I guess I will have to work harder-maybe concentrate on somebody else's breath instead.
Olusoga-Toilet-can say virtually anything about me. She can call me ugly, fat, stupid-who cares? I know that I am none of those things. I have reached the age where I don't really give a rat's patootie what people think about me-MOST of the time. Occasionally I am on a downer, and then all this rubbish suddenly becomes important (at least, temporarily). She can even say I am hooking on Highgate Hill-now THAT would make me laugh so hard, I would probably wet myself. I've never seen a hooker on Highgate Hill-not that I would know one if I saw one, but as far as I know, I have never seen one. Toilet has probably never even been to Highgate Hill-it's far too upmarket for her! (do I sound a bit bitchy there? Good, that's excellent!)
When she starts to spread slanderous remarks about my mental state, then I get angry. I understand that she is doing this to save her job:a job for which she is unsuited, given that she is dishonest, unethical, has no integrity and is a vicious and nasty liar. So I am going to see if I can get a lawyer's letter-if it will do any good.
I thought I would take Homes for Haringey to court-but I have pondered this action since Thursday. We have a legal system that is so pathetic, a known and dangerous terrorist has recently been let out onto the streets-with full welfare benefits, too. The law here seems to protect the guilty, with absolutely no regard for the innocent citizens who are caught in the crossfire. So I would only be frustrated and would probably get nowhere.
My next option is the media. I don't like the idea of giving up my privacy, but I do like the idea of giving Toilet and Haringey the kind of publicity they so richly deserve. Everyone who lives in Haringey knows they are all a bunch of halfwits anyway.
I will be good as an advocate in this new charity that has just formed. I don't suffer fools, as you can tell, and I will fight for the rights of people who are unable to fight for themselves. I won't get any thanks, probably, but I don't need thanks, only the satisfaction that I have helped someone who needed it.
Huh- I should have become a lawyer. Oh, no-did I really say THAT?? Oops, I take it back, I retract it, I didn't really mean it. It's almost as bad as saying I should have become a politician.
So please, take your foot off my head.
I will be on my best behaviour with the lawyer-and I won't think about my cousin, or the tshirt, because I would just start laughing. I won't even think about any lawyer jokes. Oh-that reminds me, I have a favourite lawyer joke.
How do you stop a lawyer from drowning? Take your foot off his head.
There you go, I have satisfied my lawyer joke needs, and can get onto the business at hand.
I'm really still upset. Even 8 weeks of mindfulness training, designed to help us live in the present, and concentrate on the breath in order to get there, haven't helped. I concentrated on my breath so intently that I suddenly discovered that I had forgotten to breathe. Eeek!!! I guess I will have to work harder-maybe concentrate on somebody else's breath instead.
Olusoga-Toilet-can say virtually anything about me. She can call me ugly, fat, stupid-who cares? I know that I am none of those things. I have reached the age where I don't really give a rat's patootie what people think about me-MOST of the time. Occasionally I am on a downer, and then all this rubbish suddenly becomes important (at least, temporarily). She can even say I am hooking on Highgate Hill-now THAT would make me laugh so hard, I would probably wet myself. I've never seen a hooker on Highgate Hill-not that I would know one if I saw one, but as far as I know, I have never seen one. Toilet has probably never even been to Highgate Hill-it's far too upmarket for her! (do I sound a bit bitchy there? Good, that's excellent!)
When she starts to spread slanderous remarks about my mental state, then I get angry. I understand that she is doing this to save her job:a job for which she is unsuited, given that she is dishonest, unethical, has no integrity and is a vicious and nasty liar. So I am going to see if I can get a lawyer's letter-if it will do any good.
I thought I would take Homes for Haringey to court-but I have pondered this action since Thursday. We have a legal system that is so pathetic, a known and dangerous terrorist has recently been let out onto the streets-with full welfare benefits, too. The law here seems to protect the guilty, with absolutely no regard for the innocent citizens who are caught in the crossfire. So I would only be frustrated and would probably get nowhere.
My next option is the media. I don't like the idea of giving up my privacy, but I do like the idea of giving Toilet and Haringey the kind of publicity they so richly deserve. Everyone who lives in Haringey knows they are all a bunch of halfwits anyway.
I will be good as an advocate in this new charity that has just formed. I don't suffer fools, as you can tell, and I will fight for the rights of people who are unable to fight for themselves. I won't get any thanks, probably, but I don't need thanks, only the satisfaction that I have helped someone who needed it.
Huh- I should have become a lawyer. Oh, no-did I really say THAT?? Oops, I take it back, I retract it, I didn't really mean it. It's almost as bad as saying I should have become a politician.
So please, take your foot off my head.
Saturday, 17 March 2012
The fertilizer has hit the fan
I was planning to write about my latest physiotherapy session, and the work I've been doing. However, on Thursday the fertilizer hit the fan in a very big way (see how I cleaned that up; I am getting more polite as I get older!!).
Apparently, Toyin Olusogo, who is Anna Philippou's line manager, has chosen to spread scurrilous lies about me-to everyone who will listen- presumably to save her job. She called social services and told them that I am paranoid and that she is fearful for my mental state. She went on to tell them that I beat up her friend in December. That accusation is both risible and ludicrous-as well as being a huge, cosmic-sized lie-since I am on a walking stick with no vestibular system, and am visually impaired (particularly after dark), so it wouldn't be possible for me to beat up a stick of celery. I may do silly things, but I don't pick fights.
I heard all this on Thursday; Olusoga is suggesting that I undergo an assessment to see if I should be placed in a secure environment. I went to Victim Support on Friday, and discussed this with my support worker, who said this is the most evil act she has encountered in a very long time.
So-never one to back down from a challenge-particularly when it is blatant character assassination by an abhorrence who is fearful of keeping a job for which she is completely unsuitable anyway-I am emailing Paul Bridge, head of Haringey, to inform him that, since he has taken no action and seems to allow his people to say any old slander about anyone at any time, I am taking Haringey to court.
I will be interested to see if Toyin Olusoga will continue to lie, in court, under oath, when the penalty for perjury is a custodial sentence. Haringey doesn't really care how many of its staff abuse, intimidate, and practice racism against people who are disabled and therefore cannot fight back. BUT- I didn't get this far in 83 weeks by not being a fighter. I fought every step of the way, I worked very hard to get this much balance back. I sure as hell am not going to back down against someone who spreads vicious lies in order to save her own backside. I will challenge that backside in a court of law.
Oh, and by the way, I have also decided to seek the help of the media. Haringey is known to have racist, bullying, abusive and incompetent people on its payroll-and social services is equally pathetic (anyone else remember the torture and murder of Baby Peter-which could have been avoided if anyone in social services actually had functioning grey matter).
Off to the press I go-and off to seek legal advice and take Haringey to court. Heh-obviously I will have to avoid making any lawyer jokes, won't I?
Apparently, Toyin Olusogo, who is Anna Philippou's line manager, has chosen to spread scurrilous lies about me-to everyone who will listen- presumably to save her job. She called social services and told them that I am paranoid and that she is fearful for my mental state. She went on to tell them that I beat up her friend in December. That accusation is both risible and ludicrous-as well as being a huge, cosmic-sized lie-since I am on a walking stick with no vestibular system, and am visually impaired (particularly after dark), so it wouldn't be possible for me to beat up a stick of celery. I may do silly things, but I don't pick fights.
I heard all this on Thursday; Olusoga is suggesting that I undergo an assessment to see if I should be placed in a secure environment. I went to Victim Support on Friday, and discussed this with my support worker, who said this is the most evil act she has encountered in a very long time.
So-never one to back down from a challenge-particularly when it is blatant character assassination by an abhorrence who is fearful of keeping a job for which she is completely unsuitable anyway-I am emailing Paul Bridge, head of Haringey, to inform him that, since he has taken no action and seems to allow his people to say any old slander about anyone at any time, I am taking Haringey to court.
I will be interested to see if Toyin Olusoga will continue to lie, in court, under oath, when the penalty for perjury is a custodial sentence. Haringey doesn't really care how many of its staff abuse, intimidate, and practice racism against people who are disabled and therefore cannot fight back. BUT- I didn't get this far in 83 weeks by not being a fighter. I fought every step of the way, I worked very hard to get this much balance back. I sure as hell am not going to back down against someone who spreads vicious lies in order to save her own backside. I will challenge that backside in a court of law.
Oh, and by the way, I have also decided to seek the help of the media. Haringey is known to have racist, bullying, abusive and incompetent people on its payroll-and social services is equally pathetic (anyone else remember the torture and murder of Baby Peter-which could have been avoided if anyone in social services actually had functioning grey matter).
Off to the press I go-and off to seek legal advice and take Haringey to court. Heh-obviously I will have to avoid making any lawyer jokes, won't I?
Wednesday, 14 March 2012
And another thing...
I'm so freaked out about this PET scan, I forgot to mention something really important!! I walked home after my last mindfulness meditation class last night, in the dark, and got home without falling over. I came close a couple of times, but caught myself and remained upright.
I couldn't do even that two months ago-so how about that!! Progress: very, very slow progress but progress the same. Time for the Kettle Chips.
I couldn't do even that two months ago-so how about that!! Progress: very, very slow progress but progress the same. Time for the Kettle Chips.
The Oracle Speaks (again)
My mother was always full of great advice. She never took it, but she gave it very freely. I never took it, either-do we ever? But I take after her in only that way: I give great advice, but never take it myself.
So-there are two pieces of advice that I have now learned (the hard way, of course, the way I learn every lesson!), and I would like to pass them on.
First: never volunteer for anything. My mother always said that, but she volunteered for everything. There weren't enough hours in the day - people always knew to call on her when they were in a bind-or when they just didn't feel like doing anything themselves. I have always done the same thing (I did say I never took her advice, didn't I?). So now, unless something really presses my passion or enthusiasm buttons, I either say no, I'm too busy-or I make excuses until the person goes and finds another mug. I have been asked to work as a volunteer (yep-that means I don't get paid) for a new charity that needs an advocate. This really hit the passion and enthusiasm buttons in a big way, so I said yes. Like I said, nobody can wither like I can wither! Advocacy: just perfect for me, since I will fight for someone who needs help. I've learned over the last 82 (nearly 83) weeks to fight for my rights. Why not help someone else do the same for theirs?
Second piece of advice: never answer the phone when you are in the toilet. Ever. When the phone rings and you are in the loo (also known as toilet, WC, john, bathroom, or whatever euphemism is popular wherever you are reading this-except, of course, in the loo), ignore it. Nobody ever got good news in the loo!!
My mother would hear the phone ring (no mobiles in those days) and just about rupture herself sprinting out of the bathroom to answer the phone, which inevitably stopped ringing as soon as she reached it. I always thought that was extremely funny-evidently I was the only one in my family who thought so.
Of course, now that we have mobiles, we just take them with us everywhere. Anybody can reach us at just about any time. Of course, there ARE times when you want to switch off the phone completely. I don't really need to talk about those, do I? Come on, leaving the phone on? What a total passion killer!! If you do that, you deserve to sleep alone. (LOL)
This is a nice intro to yesterday, when I was in the library loo and just about to leave. My mobile went off, my hands were wet because I had just washed them, and I debated: do I or don't I? I did. And, as I said, nobody ever gets good news if they answer the phone while in the loo.
It was the hospital, telling me I have been booked for a PET scan next week. This is like going into a huge MRI machine-I saw one once and it is several times the size of a usual scanner, and the room is kept at sub-Arctic temperatures, and you are in this thing for well over an hour (if I remember correctly). It scans the entire body, and any malignant areas light up like a Christmas tree. It's one step beyond the lymph node ultrasound. It reminds me of the episode of the X Files, where someone goes into a scanner and spontaneously combusts. That was a great episode; whenever I have to go for a scan, I tell everyone in the waiting area. You should see their faces! I know, I am such a prat.
I was told not to eat anything for six hours before the scan. I'm sure that this is because the thing microwaves all your organs while you are lying there, told not to move-who doesn't move? A corpse doesn't move. The rest of us have to pretend to be - well, deceased - which we will be if we are microwaved or we spontaneously combust. Can you imagine having a bowl of oatmeal before the scan? It would probably be microwaved into concrete. Ever pass concrete? No, me neither.
Well, obviously I am joking-perhaps. What I do know is that I will be injected with a radioactive substance (my veins again. These guys just love to mangle my veins),and that I will be radioactive for several days after the scan. So anyone within a five mile radius will be rendered incapable of having children, and it will be my fault. Oh, well-my contribution to birth control.
I did ask the consultant if I would glow in the dark for those few days. He just smiled, looked at me like I'm pathetic, and patted me on the head as if I am two years old.
These people have no sense of humour. If the phone rings while you are in the loo-ignore it.
So-there are two pieces of advice that I have now learned (the hard way, of course, the way I learn every lesson!), and I would like to pass them on.
First: never volunteer for anything. My mother always said that, but she volunteered for everything. There weren't enough hours in the day - people always knew to call on her when they were in a bind-or when they just didn't feel like doing anything themselves. I have always done the same thing (I did say I never took her advice, didn't I?). So now, unless something really presses my passion or enthusiasm buttons, I either say no, I'm too busy-or I make excuses until the person goes and finds another mug. I have been asked to work as a volunteer (yep-that means I don't get paid) for a new charity that needs an advocate. This really hit the passion and enthusiasm buttons in a big way, so I said yes. Like I said, nobody can wither like I can wither! Advocacy: just perfect for me, since I will fight for someone who needs help. I've learned over the last 82 (nearly 83) weeks to fight for my rights. Why not help someone else do the same for theirs?
Second piece of advice: never answer the phone when you are in the toilet. Ever. When the phone rings and you are in the loo (also known as toilet, WC, john, bathroom, or whatever euphemism is popular wherever you are reading this-except, of course, in the loo), ignore it. Nobody ever got good news in the loo!!
My mother would hear the phone ring (no mobiles in those days) and just about rupture herself sprinting out of the bathroom to answer the phone, which inevitably stopped ringing as soon as she reached it. I always thought that was extremely funny-evidently I was the only one in my family who thought so.
Of course, now that we have mobiles, we just take them with us everywhere. Anybody can reach us at just about any time. Of course, there ARE times when you want to switch off the phone completely. I don't really need to talk about those, do I? Come on, leaving the phone on? What a total passion killer!! If you do that, you deserve to sleep alone. (LOL)
This is a nice intro to yesterday, when I was in the library loo and just about to leave. My mobile went off, my hands were wet because I had just washed them, and I debated: do I or don't I? I did. And, as I said, nobody ever gets good news if they answer the phone while in the loo.
It was the hospital, telling me I have been booked for a PET scan next week. This is like going into a huge MRI machine-I saw one once and it is several times the size of a usual scanner, and the room is kept at sub-Arctic temperatures, and you are in this thing for well over an hour (if I remember correctly). It scans the entire body, and any malignant areas light up like a Christmas tree. It's one step beyond the lymph node ultrasound. It reminds me of the episode of the X Files, where someone goes into a scanner and spontaneously combusts. That was a great episode; whenever I have to go for a scan, I tell everyone in the waiting area. You should see their faces! I know, I am such a prat.
I was told not to eat anything for six hours before the scan. I'm sure that this is because the thing microwaves all your organs while you are lying there, told not to move-who doesn't move? A corpse doesn't move. The rest of us have to pretend to be - well, deceased - which we will be if we are microwaved or we spontaneously combust. Can you imagine having a bowl of oatmeal before the scan? It would probably be microwaved into concrete. Ever pass concrete? No, me neither.
Well, obviously I am joking-perhaps. What I do know is that I will be injected with a radioactive substance (my veins again. These guys just love to mangle my veins),and that I will be radioactive for several days after the scan. So anyone within a five mile radius will be rendered incapable of having children, and it will be my fault. Oh, well-my contribution to birth control.
I did ask the consultant if I would glow in the dark for those few days. He just smiled, looked at me like I'm pathetic, and patted me on the head as if I am two years old.
These people have no sense of humour. If the phone rings while you are in the loo-ignore it.
Tuesday, 13 March 2012
Tom Lehrer was right
I remember the great satirist Tom Lehrer-and, believe me, that is an ancient memory from my childhood. He said - among other things - that life is like a sewer: what you get out of it depends on what you put into it!!
So what brings me to all this? Am I feeling a bit better today? Well, yes-I forced myself to get my act together-I went to the gym today, for the first time in many weeks. I have to hold on when I get onto the treadmill-which must be hilarious to any of the diehard exercisers who see me (not that anyone really watches, everyone is too busy working out. Allegedly.). So I feel terribly righteous. Not too fit, but righteous. And I didn't fall off once-I even worked on legs today. Next time I will do upper body. Meanwhile I can tell you that remaining upright is an amazing feat in itself. I went; good for me.
Yesterday I struggled to get out of my "low mood", as my GP calls it. So I went up the road for a coffee. And this gross looking man - bald, halitosis-just the kind who sees me and practically sprints to my side (yuck. And I do mean, yuck!!), came up behind me and put his arm around me. I've never seen this cretin before, so I shrank back-and he leaned forward, positively leering. I thought he was going to start drooling.
He said "hi babe, how are you? How is the arthritis?". I quickly pulled away-I was at the counter, another two inches and I would have been over the counter-and said, with a really withering look (and trust me, nobody withers like I can wither) "I'm fine. I don't have arthritis. So, tell me, how is your herpes?".
Obviously he let go, and turned so red I thought he was having a coronary. I got my coffee, a few people snickered (as one does), and the creep got his order and went in the opposite direction. What nerve! And how repulsive!! I should have ordered an extra shot-so I could hit him with it!!
For some reason this creature reminded me of my cousin: something about his face that makes you really, really want to hit him, and hard, too (I don't do that kind of thing, I hasten to add. But that doesn't mean I don't think about it from time to time. Fantasies are so much more fun than reality!!).
My cousin is probably the person for whom the descriptive slang term "douchebag" was invented. He's a lawyer-so that gives you an indication of the reason behind the perfect description of him as a douchebag.
First he went to law school. Then he decided he wanted to be a doctor, so he went to medical school. He defends doctors who are accused of malpractice (douchebag of the first order). And he became a pathologist, which was the perfect solution for someone who cares a lot more for dead people than for live ones. I told him years ago that his was the perfect double job: his patients couldn't talk back, and couldn't sue him for malpractice. And if someone sued him, he could defend himself. The man is completely devoid of anything remotely resembling a sense of humour. Last time I saw Jon was about seven years ago (or thereabouts). He's just such a snot!! I had a tshirt made for the occasion: it said in very large letters "TAKE A LAWYER TO LUNCH" - and underneath, in very small letters, it said "and poison him".
Jon didn't think that was funny, although all my other cousins fell about laughing. I told him that he could have saved himself many years of training, and saved his father an absolute fortune, if he had only become a funeral director. Or a gravedigger.
So there is one insight into my family-which is why I don't see them more often than once a decade. Or two. Or more, if I can help it!!
I did say I've never been the queen of diplomacy or the poster girl for tact. Didn't I? And, hey, that line about the herpes: it works like a charm when some creep tries to chat you up. Try it sometime!! :))
So what brings me to all this? Am I feeling a bit better today? Well, yes-I forced myself to get my act together-I went to the gym today, for the first time in many weeks. I have to hold on when I get onto the treadmill-which must be hilarious to any of the diehard exercisers who see me (not that anyone really watches, everyone is too busy working out. Allegedly.). So I feel terribly righteous. Not too fit, but righteous. And I didn't fall off once-I even worked on legs today. Next time I will do upper body. Meanwhile I can tell you that remaining upright is an amazing feat in itself. I went; good for me.
Yesterday I struggled to get out of my "low mood", as my GP calls it. So I went up the road for a coffee. And this gross looking man - bald, halitosis-just the kind who sees me and practically sprints to my side (yuck. And I do mean, yuck!!), came up behind me and put his arm around me. I've never seen this cretin before, so I shrank back-and he leaned forward, positively leering. I thought he was going to start drooling.
He said "hi babe, how are you? How is the arthritis?". I quickly pulled away-I was at the counter, another two inches and I would have been over the counter-and said, with a really withering look (and trust me, nobody withers like I can wither) "I'm fine. I don't have arthritis. So, tell me, how is your herpes?".
Obviously he let go, and turned so red I thought he was having a coronary. I got my coffee, a few people snickered (as one does), and the creep got his order and went in the opposite direction. What nerve! And how repulsive!! I should have ordered an extra shot-so I could hit him with it!!
For some reason this creature reminded me of my cousin: something about his face that makes you really, really want to hit him, and hard, too (I don't do that kind of thing, I hasten to add. But that doesn't mean I don't think about it from time to time. Fantasies are so much more fun than reality!!).
My cousin is probably the person for whom the descriptive slang term "douchebag" was invented. He's a lawyer-so that gives you an indication of the reason behind the perfect description of him as a douchebag.
First he went to law school. Then he decided he wanted to be a doctor, so he went to medical school. He defends doctors who are accused of malpractice (douchebag of the first order). And he became a pathologist, which was the perfect solution for someone who cares a lot more for dead people than for live ones. I told him years ago that his was the perfect double job: his patients couldn't talk back, and couldn't sue him for malpractice. And if someone sued him, he could defend himself. The man is completely devoid of anything remotely resembling a sense of humour. Last time I saw Jon was about seven years ago (or thereabouts). He's just such a snot!! I had a tshirt made for the occasion: it said in very large letters "TAKE A LAWYER TO LUNCH" - and underneath, in very small letters, it said "and poison him".
Jon didn't think that was funny, although all my other cousins fell about laughing. I told him that he could have saved himself many years of training, and saved his father an absolute fortune, if he had only become a funeral director. Or a gravedigger.
So there is one insight into my family-which is why I don't see them more often than once a decade. Or two. Or more, if I can help it!!
I did say I've never been the queen of diplomacy or the poster girl for tact. Didn't I? And, hey, that line about the herpes: it works like a charm when some creep tries to chat you up. Try it sometime!! :))
Monday, 12 March 2012
Only the Good Die Young
I had a very unproductive weekend. We had sunny days-for a change!!-, clear, crisp weather-and I missed most of it. I think I am now an expert in RDP: Rumination, Depression and Procrastination. Perhaps this is a syndrome that would make a good degree course!!
I ruminated all weekend-and I stayed close to home (sometimes just sitting on the sofa, doing nothing), procrastinating cleaning, and answering emails...sometimes that black dog just takes a bite when you least expect it. This was that kind of weekend. Bring on the Kettle Chips!!
So- I ruminated over all the people I knew, people whose opinions seemed to matter more than my own. Why is it that other people think they know us better than we know ourselves??
I had a tough time with balance and with my ability to focus. In fact, I toppled over a few times-luckily I was at home, so I didn't topple very far. That depressed me, too. Everything and everyone depressed me!!
This morning I really spent some constructive time ruminating. I think that if you ruminate and get something positive out of it, the process can be positive, rather than negative and destructive.
My conclusion: I can tell myself (and have other people tell me) to get a grip, to get up and do something, to get out of the house-and when I am really down, that doesn't help at all. It is better for me to understand that I have days like these last few, where I am so down I am unable to do anything- so just do the mindfulness thing of observing, and understanding that these moods are only temporary, they will not last forever...and THEN tell myself to get up and do something, even if it is only to get outside and take a walk. I am supposed to walk. A lot. So just ignore the moods and do it.
Accepting that things might not ever get better has been very, very difficult. I tend to just keep on going, and I am determined to do better-a lot better. So-I feel like I let myself down by not doing all the things I meant to do over the weekend. Perhaps I need to have a good close look at my attitude!!
I remember one of my favorite songs by Billy Joel: Only the Good Die Young. I've decided that I want to live to at least 90- providing, of course, that I am completely healthy in both body and mind!! No senility for me, and no being dependent on anyone else to do everything for me! Been there, done that!! Not ever again. So I will be 90, and riding my Harley Davidson at top speed down the Pacific Coast Highway (if it still exists by then, of course), enjoying the wind in my face, and then just keel over. That's it, bang, just like that.
Until then there are still Kettle Chips.
I ruminated all weekend-and I stayed close to home (sometimes just sitting on the sofa, doing nothing), procrastinating cleaning, and answering emails...sometimes that black dog just takes a bite when you least expect it. This was that kind of weekend. Bring on the Kettle Chips!!
So- I ruminated over all the people I knew, people whose opinions seemed to matter more than my own. Why is it that other people think they know us better than we know ourselves??
I had a tough time with balance and with my ability to focus. In fact, I toppled over a few times-luckily I was at home, so I didn't topple very far. That depressed me, too. Everything and everyone depressed me!!
This morning I really spent some constructive time ruminating. I think that if you ruminate and get something positive out of it, the process can be positive, rather than negative and destructive.
My conclusion: I can tell myself (and have other people tell me) to get a grip, to get up and do something, to get out of the house-and when I am really down, that doesn't help at all. It is better for me to understand that I have days like these last few, where I am so down I am unable to do anything- so just do the mindfulness thing of observing, and understanding that these moods are only temporary, they will not last forever...and THEN tell myself to get up and do something, even if it is only to get outside and take a walk. I am supposed to walk. A lot. So just ignore the moods and do it.
Accepting that things might not ever get better has been very, very difficult. I tend to just keep on going, and I am determined to do better-a lot better. So-I feel like I let myself down by not doing all the things I meant to do over the weekend. Perhaps I need to have a good close look at my attitude!!
I remember one of my favorite songs by Billy Joel: Only the Good Die Young. I've decided that I want to live to at least 90- providing, of course, that I am completely healthy in both body and mind!! No senility for me, and no being dependent on anyone else to do everything for me! Been there, done that!! Not ever again. So I will be 90, and riding my Harley Davidson at top speed down the Pacific Coast Highway (if it still exists by then, of course), enjoying the wind in my face, and then just keel over. That's it, bang, just like that.
Until then there are still Kettle Chips.
Saturday, 10 March 2012
Histrionic Personality Disorder:the neighbours from Hell
I usually take a taxi to the hospital-public transport is still not a viable alternative, even after 82 weeks. Yesterday's driver was English, so we could actually speak and understand each other (sometimes I get someone who doesn't speak the language, so the ride is very silent!!). When the driver is a talkative one (and, happily, many are, so the time passes more quickly), we spend the 45 minutes putting the world to rights. Oh, if we only ran this country, it would be so different!!!!! LOL!!!
Yesterday, my driver was telling me about his noisy neighbour from Hell (or, neighbor, depending on where you are when you are reading this). He has someone who spends half the night playing something that passes for music (maybe to him), and no matter how many times everyone complains, he refuses to turn his stereo down. My upstairs neighbour hammers, drills, moves furniture, and generally is a pain in the backside-he does this at 3am. Same problem: I ask him to have some consideration, but he is a moron. This is the reason I will never live in a place with people upstairs again. Not unless guns become legal.
So, while I was waiting to have my blood drawn (full blood count. They keep taking my blood and then wondering why I am anemic. Well, for God's sake: it's because they keep taking my blood. Isn't that a no-brainer!!!), I got to thinking about neighbours. We all have them-and some of the stories I've heard are much worse than mine, so I should be grateful. I'm not-but I suppose I should be!!
I read about something called Histrionic Personality Disorder. No, I don't have it (hypochondria has never been one of my personality traits), but it occurred to me while I was reading this that I know people who fit the bill perfectly: Carol and Rachel, the two people I mentioned in a previous post.
Now: this disorder is characteristic of drama queens, people who are so self-obsessed that all they can think about or talk about is "me, me, me" and "my past/history/victimhood". They act like they think they are the world's best at everything, that they know everything about everything, and whatever you say or do, they trump you in every way. After awhile (usually a very SHORT while), you just want to give them a good beating, so you have to walk (sometimes run) as far as you can-in the opposite direction.
Carol was the first person I met when I moved into this property last year. She lives just across the road. She is profoundly deaf, so she shouts. Very disconcerting!! And very embarrassing, too, because she had cancer surgery five years ago and is incontinent after the chemotherapy. She told me this within five minutes of meeting me. So-I didn't know anyone in this area, and I went out for a coffee a few times. Eeek!! She needs the loo very often, and she will just stand up in the middle of a pub or a cafe and shout to the staff that she needs to use the loo because she is incontinent due to cancer treatment. Imagine: I wanted to run and hide. Discreet? Carol? Not in the slightest.
I could go on and on-because for several months her antics were mildly entertaining. It was all about her, and her history of child abuse, and her history of dyslexia, and childhood poverty-and, oh, yes, by the way, she was a lesbian for 25 years but is now-as she puts it-neutral. She also goes off in public when she sees something in a shop that she doesn't like. She goes off at anyone and everyone, and at top volume. And when she asked whether I still wanted to be with a man, I realized that something was definitely up somewhere. Was she grooming me for something? Good grief, what a nauseating idea!! I said yes, I like men, and I am not gay and have never been gay. Since then her attitude changed-and I decided to be very, very busy.
Rachel, too, seems to fit the histrionic profile, but not nearly as much or as perfectly as Carol. Rachel has this awful nervous laugh, and will not talk about anything but her work (she is a hospice nurse), her cats, and how she has felt since becoming a Christian. And Rachel says the most appalling things-really nasty things-with a laugh, and by looking away. Well, it is hard to tell when she is looking at you, because one eye points one way, and the other eye points the other way. Really!
I wonder how I attract these mad people!! If I go the New Age route, or the psychobabble route, I'll be told that my energy attracts these people-or that something in me resonates with something in them-or some such crap. Who knows? Whatever.
I now stay as far away from them as I can. The last time I saw Carol, she told me that she watches me from her window and has noticed that I am walking better. Scary, or what? A stalker. Yuck.
I'm pondering what the common traits are, if we have any. So that has been a valuable experience for me-one that I never want to repeat!!
I am walking better-and it took me 82 weeks to get this far. If I see either of them coming my way, I will see how well I can sprint-in the opposite direction!!
The most interesting thing about the Carol and Rachel story (which I have greatly abbreviated for this post) is the fact that my curiosity is beginning to return. So, perhaps, I am on the mend, however slowly. I find human behavour endlessly fascinating-I always have enjoyed observing, and listening, and trying to figure out what makes people tick, and why they do the things they do. My curiosity disappeared 18 months ago- as did my powers of observation - and they are beginning to resurface. That's a good thing.
Normal people in my life, please!!!
Yesterday, my driver was telling me about his noisy neighbour from Hell (or, neighbor, depending on where you are when you are reading this). He has someone who spends half the night playing something that passes for music (maybe to him), and no matter how many times everyone complains, he refuses to turn his stereo down. My upstairs neighbour hammers, drills, moves furniture, and generally is a pain in the backside-he does this at 3am. Same problem: I ask him to have some consideration, but he is a moron. This is the reason I will never live in a place with people upstairs again. Not unless guns become legal.
So, while I was waiting to have my blood drawn (full blood count. They keep taking my blood and then wondering why I am anemic. Well, for God's sake: it's because they keep taking my blood. Isn't that a no-brainer!!!), I got to thinking about neighbours. We all have them-and some of the stories I've heard are much worse than mine, so I should be grateful. I'm not-but I suppose I should be!!
I read about something called Histrionic Personality Disorder. No, I don't have it (hypochondria has never been one of my personality traits), but it occurred to me while I was reading this that I know people who fit the bill perfectly: Carol and Rachel, the two people I mentioned in a previous post.
Now: this disorder is characteristic of drama queens, people who are so self-obsessed that all they can think about or talk about is "me, me, me" and "my past/history/victimhood". They act like they think they are the world's best at everything, that they know everything about everything, and whatever you say or do, they trump you in every way. After awhile (usually a very SHORT while), you just want to give them a good beating, so you have to walk (sometimes run) as far as you can-in the opposite direction.
Carol was the first person I met when I moved into this property last year. She lives just across the road. She is profoundly deaf, so she shouts. Very disconcerting!! And very embarrassing, too, because she had cancer surgery five years ago and is incontinent after the chemotherapy. She told me this within five minutes of meeting me. So-I didn't know anyone in this area, and I went out for a coffee a few times. Eeek!! She needs the loo very often, and she will just stand up in the middle of a pub or a cafe and shout to the staff that she needs to use the loo because she is incontinent due to cancer treatment. Imagine: I wanted to run and hide. Discreet? Carol? Not in the slightest.
I could go on and on-because for several months her antics were mildly entertaining. It was all about her, and her history of child abuse, and her history of dyslexia, and childhood poverty-and, oh, yes, by the way, she was a lesbian for 25 years but is now-as she puts it-neutral. She also goes off in public when she sees something in a shop that she doesn't like. She goes off at anyone and everyone, and at top volume. And when she asked whether I still wanted to be with a man, I realized that something was definitely up somewhere. Was she grooming me for something? Good grief, what a nauseating idea!! I said yes, I like men, and I am not gay and have never been gay. Since then her attitude changed-and I decided to be very, very busy.
Rachel, too, seems to fit the histrionic profile, but not nearly as much or as perfectly as Carol. Rachel has this awful nervous laugh, and will not talk about anything but her work (she is a hospice nurse), her cats, and how she has felt since becoming a Christian. And Rachel says the most appalling things-really nasty things-with a laugh, and by looking away. Well, it is hard to tell when she is looking at you, because one eye points one way, and the other eye points the other way. Really!
I wonder how I attract these mad people!! If I go the New Age route, or the psychobabble route, I'll be told that my energy attracts these people-or that something in me resonates with something in them-or some such crap. Who knows? Whatever.
I now stay as far away from them as I can. The last time I saw Carol, she told me that she watches me from her window and has noticed that I am walking better. Scary, or what? A stalker. Yuck.
I'm pondering what the common traits are, if we have any. So that has been a valuable experience for me-one that I never want to repeat!!
I am walking better-and it took me 82 weeks to get this far. If I see either of them coming my way, I will see how well I can sprint-in the opposite direction!!
The most interesting thing about the Carol and Rachel story (which I have greatly abbreviated for this post) is the fact that my curiosity is beginning to return. So, perhaps, I am on the mend, however slowly. I find human behavour endlessly fascinating-I always have enjoyed observing, and listening, and trying to figure out what makes people tick, and why they do the things they do. My curiosity disappeared 18 months ago- as did my powers of observation - and they are beginning to resurface. That's a good thing.
Normal people in my life, please!!!
Thursday, 8 March 2012
Tact, Diplomacy and Patience: the Missing Genes
I have spent most of the week at the hospital-or should I say, hospitals!! I just got back from Bart's, so I wanted to write in case anyone following this thinks I might have been either kidnapped by a George Clooney lookalike (dream on, dream on, as if!!) or abducted by aliens (far more likely than the first possibility!!).
Now, I said that I have absolutely zero patience-and, after 82 weeks, I have been getting a bit depressed again. It rained this week-the weather was really nasty for part of the week-and I noticed that my balance and my ability to focus my eyes both get much worse when the weather conditions change. So-it has been a wee bit frustrating this week!!
I went to church on Sunday-mostly because the pastor keeps calling me to see how I am-otherwise I don't think I would bother. And I walked in and the first person I saw was someone I thought was a friend-not a good friend, more of an acquaintance. But I looked at her and I thought she was going to fall through the floor-her name is Rachel, and she has made a huge deal over "praying for me", which would be nice-except that she is the world's biggest bore. All she can talk about is her work, and her manager-nothing else-and how she is "praying for me", as if I should be eternally grateful.
There is a story to Rachel and her friend, my neighbor Carol. I will tell you that story another time. It really is relevant, I swear!!
I am hardly the queen of tact and the master of diplomacy; I have reached the age now where I just tell it as I see it, and if someone doesn't want my opinion, they shouldn't ask for it!! I let people know exactly where they stand with me, and I don't sugarcoat anything. Personally, I would rather someone be honest with me than tell me what they think I want to hear. But-I have also reached the age where I realize that sometimes you have to be careful of how you express your opinions-too forceful and you can get a good smack in the mouth.And that is a story I will save for Saturday, since I have to return to the hospital tomorrow (briefly, but I still have to go).
Hint: Rachel looked at me when I walked through the door and said that I couldn't have been too bad because I made it to church. I resisted the urge (and let me tell you, it was a strong urge!!) to ask her how her diet is coming and then say that she still looks like she is in danger of being chased by Captain Ahab and his harpoon. I think I made a wise choice in avoiding that (given that she is twice my size, at least)-don't you?
Sometimes I just want to slap people-even though those people are clearly retards.
Now, I said that I have absolutely zero patience-and, after 82 weeks, I have been getting a bit depressed again. It rained this week-the weather was really nasty for part of the week-and I noticed that my balance and my ability to focus my eyes both get much worse when the weather conditions change. So-it has been a wee bit frustrating this week!!
I went to church on Sunday-mostly because the pastor keeps calling me to see how I am-otherwise I don't think I would bother. And I walked in and the first person I saw was someone I thought was a friend-not a good friend, more of an acquaintance. But I looked at her and I thought she was going to fall through the floor-her name is Rachel, and she has made a huge deal over "praying for me", which would be nice-except that she is the world's biggest bore. All she can talk about is her work, and her manager-nothing else-and how she is "praying for me", as if I should be eternally grateful.
There is a story to Rachel and her friend, my neighbor Carol. I will tell you that story another time. It really is relevant, I swear!!
I am hardly the queen of tact and the master of diplomacy; I have reached the age now where I just tell it as I see it, and if someone doesn't want my opinion, they shouldn't ask for it!! I let people know exactly where they stand with me, and I don't sugarcoat anything. Personally, I would rather someone be honest with me than tell me what they think I want to hear. But-I have also reached the age where I realize that sometimes you have to be careful of how you express your opinions-too forceful and you can get a good smack in the mouth.And that is a story I will save for Saturday, since I have to return to the hospital tomorrow (briefly, but I still have to go).
Hint: Rachel looked at me when I walked through the door and said that I couldn't have been too bad because I made it to church. I resisted the urge (and let me tell you, it was a strong urge!!) to ask her how her diet is coming and then say that she still looks like she is in danger of being chased by Captain Ahab and his harpoon. I think I made a wise choice in avoiding that (given that she is twice my size, at least)-don't you?
Sometimes I just want to slap people-even though those people are clearly retards.
Saturday, 3 March 2012
The Queen of Farts
I had my lymph node biopsy yesterday. Eeek!! What an ordeal this week has been. The new part of the Royal London hospital looks just like it is: very, very expensive. And so many people who work there are still idiots!! You don't always get what you pay for, that's for sure.
It has been difficult: I have been really exhausted. No surprise there, since I had to do the liquid Drano for three days! I had enough gas to launch the Hindenburg. Since Wednesday, I felt like I was an extra in the campfire scene from Blazing Saddles (google it if you don't know what on earth I am talking about!!).
Happily, that has all been resolved, and I feel like I can actually go outside again!! LOL!!!
I have felt very dizzy this week: my balance has been way off and my nystagmus and visual difficulties were worse, too. I remembered the words of both Dr Dimples and the vestibular physiotherapist: when it rains or snows, or the barometric pressure outside changes, when I haven't had enough sleep, when I haven't been eating right (I guess they mean a bag of Kettle Chips for dinner isn't exactly the best nutritional choice-even though it tastes delish), when I haven't had enough water (I had liquid Drano-so what do they want from me??), when I am upset or unwell, all the symptoms are exacerbated. They did say I would hit a plateau, and then I wouldn't be able to proceed any further, and I would know that I wouldn't get any better. Poster boys for optimism, aren't they??
Whatever. The only thing I have left after this week is a huge bruise on my right wrist, where my lovely consultant Sean beat the hell out of my vein (before he broke it). I like him, he is a good doctor, but I swear, like most of the people at the hospital, he couldn't find a vein (on me, anyway) if it was the size of the M1. But, he didn't poke any holes (that I know of) in my intestines when I made jokes about anal sex and he started laughing. So, what more can a woman ask for?
PC Rathband committed suicide this week. He was the person I was talking about when I said in an earlier post that he was shot in the face nearly two years ago, and blinded by a psychopath who later got himself shot by police. I felt really sad; I guess he couldn't cope, in the end. Perhaps he just didn't have enough support. I still say that he was another casualty of the psychopath Raoul Moat.
This, of course, made me ruminate (everything does make me ruminate!!). It's very difficult to recover from something that destroys the life you had before. I could easily have gone the same way. I thought about it eighteen months ago-I thought about suicide a lot. Now it is 81 weeks later (81 weeks today, as a matter of fact), and I have come a long way, but not without fighting every step of the way to recover as much as I can.
I don't want to stay at this level for much longer. I still find acceptance very difficult, but I am not ready to give up or give in yet. I used to say to people, just sign me up for Dignitas. There were times when I meant it, too.
But suicide? Not for me: I am a devout coward. I might keep falling over, but I will still get up again.
It has been difficult: I have been really exhausted. No surprise there, since I had to do the liquid Drano for three days! I had enough gas to launch the Hindenburg. Since Wednesday, I felt like I was an extra in the campfire scene from Blazing Saddles (google it if you don't know what on earth I am talking about!!).
Happily, that has all been resolved, and I feel like I can actually go outside again!! LOL!!!
I have felt very dizzy this week: my balance has been way off and my nystagmus and visual difficulties were worse, too. I remembered the words of both Dr Dimples and the vestibular physiotherapist: when it rains or snows, or the barometric pressure outside changes, when I haven't had enough sleep, when I haven't been eating right (I guess they mean a bag of Kettle Chips for dinner isn't exactly the best nutritional choice-even though it tastes delish), when I haven't had enough water (I had liquid Drano-so what do they want from me??), when I am upset or unwell, all the symptoms are exacerbated. They did say I would hit a plateau, and then I wouldn't be able to proceed any further, and I would know that I wouldn't get any better. Poster boys for optimism, aren't they??
Whatever. The only thing I have left after this week is a huge bruise on my right wrist, where my lovely consultant Sean beat the hell out of my vein (before he broke it). I like him, he is a good doctor, but I swear, like most of the people at the hospital, he couldn't find a vein (on me, anyway) if it was the size of the M1. But, he didn't poke any holes (that I know of) in my intestines when I made jokes about anal sex and he started laughing. So, what more can a woman ask for?
PC Rathband committed suicide this week. He was the person I was talking about when I said in an earlier post that he was shot in the face nearly two years ago, and blinded by a psychopath who later got himself shot by police. I felt really sad; I guess he couldn't cope, in the end. Perhaps he just didn't have enough support. I still say that he was another casualty of the psychopath Raoul Moat.
This, of course, made me ruminate (everything does make me ruminate!!). It's very difficult to recover from something that destroys the life you had before. I could easily have gone the same way. I thought about it eighteen months ago-I thought about suicide a lot. Now it is 81 weeks later (81 weeks today, as a matter of fact), and I have come a long way, but not without fighting every step of the way to recover as much as I can.
I don't want to stay at this level for much longer. I still find acceptance very difficult, but I am not ready to give up or give in yet. I used to say to people, just sign me up for Dignitas. There were times when I meant it, too.
But suicide? Not for me: I am a devout coward. I might keep falling over, but I will still get up again.
Thursday, 1 March 2012
Revved Up and Clapped Out
I like to now think of myself as a vintage wine, or a Stradivarius: we all improve with age. Even better, a rare, classic Ferrari - okay, well, I did say that fantasies are so much more fun than reality!!
At the moment, I feel more like a clapped out old banger and less like a fabulous Ferrari. About the only thing we have in common is the need for regular servicing!! I had my lube job yesterday-and what fun it absolutely wasn't!!!
My veins are a nightmare: it is easier to get blood from a turnip than it is to get blood from one of my veins. They see a needle coming and they run for cover. They run, they wobble, and it seems like it only takes someone to breathe over them and they break. I will never be a drug addict, that's for sure!!
Sean (the gastro consultant) didn't believe me when I said he would have a hard time inserting the cannula. People never believe me until they wreck at least three veins, cause huge bruises and a great deal of pain-and then they say "oh, your veins aren't very good, are they?" as if I made the whole thing up. Grrrrr...
The short version: Sean blew a vein in my hand, and a huge lump appeared: a huge, painful lump that is very, very black and blue. He then decided to use a vein in my ankle. "okay to use your foot? Not that we have any other choice", he said with a smile. I'm such a sucker. It was either that or no sedation at all-and I'm just a devout coward.So I said okay-and he had to try twice before he found a vein that didn't collapse.
I am no longer an ankle virgin. My foot virginity has been deflowered (and I said that after he inserted the cannula, and got a big embarrassed laugh from everyone in the room: Sean, another consultant, and four nurses. Oops...). I can almost imagine them all going home and telling their families that a patient commented that she had lost her ankle virginity during a procedure. I'll bet that would make for interesting dinnertime conversation!!
So the two garden hoses went in, and the two garden hoses came out. I get the results in a month. Meanwhile, I have my lymph node biopsy tomorrow. Hopefully, nobody will screw up the vein they have to puncture to take blood before the biopsy. I think the dread of having someone mess up my arm is worse than the biopsy itself!!!!
I got home at about 6:30 last night, and immediately made myself a cup of tea-well deserved, I thought. I could eat now-so I caused severe damage to a bag of Kettle Chips! LOL!!!! That is NOT what they meant when they said go home, rest, plenty of liquids, some soft food to start with, since I have fasted for three days. Never mind: Kettle Chips are the very best. I know this because I did a taste test. I tried all the rest, and all I can say is, some were really disgusting and rancid, and some (brands) were less disgusting. But I am the master chef reviewer of the beloved potato chip: Kettle Chips are the very best of the lot.
I did actually have a boiled egg this morning, so my diet isn't a complete disgrace!! Sadly, I am still having trouble sitting down. If you had a big hosepipe shoved up your rectum, you would have trouble sitting down, too. And you might be hitting those Kettle Chips, too!! I might be over 40, and therefore invisible to the world (all women over 40 seem to become invisible), but I still eat.
I think I was a size 0 for a day. Trust me when I say it wasn't worth it!!
At the moment, I feel more like a clapped out old banger and less like a fabulous Ferrari. About the only thing we have in common is the need for regular servicing!! I had my lube job yesterday-and what fun it absolutely wasn't!!!
My veins are a nightmare: it is easier to get blood from a turnip than it is to get blood from one of my veins. They see a needle coming and they run for cover. They run, they wobble, and it seems like it only takes someone to breathe over them and they break. I will never be a drug addict, that's for sure!!
Sean (the gastro consultant) didn't believe me when I said he would have a hard time inserting the cannula. People never believe me until they wreck at least three veins, cause huge bruises and a great deal of pain-and then they say "oh, your veins aren't very good, are they?" as if I made the whole thing up. Grrrrr...
The short version: Sean blew a vein in my hand, and a huge lump appeared: a huge, painful lump that is very, very black and blue. He then decided to use a vein in my ankle. "okay to use your foot? Not that we have any other choice", he said with a smile. I'm such a sucker. It was either that or no sedation at all-and I'm just a devout coward.So I said okay-and he had to try twice before he found a vein that didn't collapse.
I am no longer an ankle virgin. My foot virginity has been deflowered (and I said that after he inserted the cannula, and got a big embarrassed laugh from everyone in the room: Sean, another consultant, and four nurses. Oops...). I can almost imagine them all going home and telling their families that a patient commented that she had lost her ankle virginity during a procedure. I'll bet that would make for interesting dinnertime conversation!!
So the two garden hoses went in, and the two garden hoses came out. I get the results in a month. Meanwhile, I have my lymph node biopsy tomorrow. Hopefully, nobody will screw up the vein they have to puncture to take blood before the biopsy. I think the dread of having someone mess up my arm is worse than the biopsy itself!!!!
I got home at about 6:30 last night, and immediately made myself a cup of tea-well deserved, I thought. I could eat now-so I caused severe damage to a bag of Kettle Chips! LOL!!!! That is NOT what they meant when they said go home, rest, plenty of liquids, some soft food to start with, since I have fasted for three days. Never mind: Kettle Chips are the very best. I know this because I did a taste test. I tried all the rest, and all I can say is, some were really disgusting and rancid, and some (brands) were less disgusting. But I am the master chef reviewer of the beloved potato chip: Kettle Chips are the very best of the lot.
I did actually have a boiled egg this morning, so my diet isn't a complete disgrace!! Sadly, I am still having trouble sitting down. If you had a big hosepipe shoved up your rectum, you would have trouble sitting down, too. And you might be hitting those Kettle Chips, too!! I might be over 40, and therefore invisible to the world (all women over 40 seem to become invisible), but I still eat.
I think I was a size 0 for a day. Trust me when I say it wasn't worth it!!
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