Isn't it amazing: January is nearly half over and no catastrophe has happened (no personal ones, anyway).
Every year I pretend to be a hedgehog. I hibernate. Now, hedgehogs are very cute anyway-but they roll themselves into a ball, interlocking their spines and creating a wall of protection. And they hibernate until April. Really, if I could roll myself into a tiny ball and stick my spines out and protect myself for five or six months, wouldn't I do it? Yes, is the short answer. And fat chance is the equally short answer. But it would be quite entertaining, though.
Christmas has been dire for me for many years. I've had some very bad Christmases-enough to try to ignore the second half of December and the first week of January. At the risk of sounding like a grinch, Christmas is my least favorite holiday, and I try to ignore it as much as I possibly can. This year was no different.
Now, however, we're well into the new year, and hopefully-hopefully!-life will begin to be something resembling normal-or a new normal. I can remember where I was and what I was doing two years ago at this time, and I would be surprised if you couldn't remember (or prefer not to remember) where you were then. Unless you were living on another planet, these past two years have been pretty hellish.
Have I made resolutions for 2022? Seriously? I never make new year's resolutions, because I end up breaking them before the first week is over (sometimes before the first three days are over!). But I had the annual wobble, staying away from everyone as much as possible; I did the hedgehog impression (I was in hiding as much as possible, as were most of the people I know), and I got through it all with relative sanity. Sanity, as everyone knows, is relative...
My bad news arrived last week. I've been having more dizzy spells, even though I increased my walking. So I went along to the vestibular neurologist (whom I haven't seen since before lockdown), and he put me through several tests. It seems that the gentamicin didn't only destroy my vestibular (balance) system, and affect my eyes and a few other things. It also caused severe damage to my cerebellum. That is the part of the brain that governs balance-and other things-and that seems to be the reason why I haven't progressed more than I thought I would in nearly twelve years.
I was so devastated that I came back after the tests and sat. And sat. I didn't cry (unusual for me in a case like this). I just sat, depressed as hell, and the anger against the four cripplers came flooding back. Hilary Longhurst-Sofia Grigoriadou-Philip Bright-Buckland-they haven't suffered for twelve years. And it took me more than ten years to accept the things I couldn't do anything about; that took some of the heat off. I had to stop myself from wanting all of them to die horrible deaths-soon, so I would know, and at least get some joy out of what their incompetence caused.
Okay, so I sat and worked through it all weekend. I forced myself to get dressed and get out and walk, even though I only walked for less than an hour each day. I decided that I would not continue to allow these loathesome incompetents to run-and ruin-my life any more than they have done already.
I know a bit about neuroplasticity. I also know that medical science doesn't know everything about everything; when someone recovers from a terminal diagnosis, everyone seems surprised. So...
I'm ordering several anatomical wall charts; the brain, the heart, the inner ears and balance mechanism. When I receive them, I will put them up on the wall in a place where I have to walk by them, can't avoid seeing them-and I will concentrate on all those areas completely recovering. So we will see-and I will do that for as long as it takes to achieve results.
I'll know whether visualizing perfect health in those areas that have been damaged. I'll know-and then you will know, too. It's a test of the body's ability to heal itself. Actually, it's a test of my ability to heal myself.
Nearly twelve years ago, I could easily have just given up. I was determined not to allow the people who nearly killed me to win. I can't tell you how many times I came close to giving up, or how many tears I shed, or how many times I fell down and had to fight not to stay down. I've lost count. But I can tell you that I refuse to give up. And if you know anyone who is even remotely in the same (or similar) position: they shouldn't give up either.
Let's see if I'm right.
