When in doubt:do a runner!

Would you believe it: I decided that, since nobody respected my wish not to see -ever!- Sofia the crippler of Bart's and the London, I would do a runner. I simply would be absent. And I told the nurses I would be back when the crippler did her rounds. One nurse told me that Sofia would wait all day, if she had to.

So-I went to the Outpatients building, and had a coffee there. It's not Starbucks, but - it's drinkable, so I sat down with my coffee-and two minutes later, the fire alarm went off, and everyone had to evacuate the building. Talk about Murphy's Law!! I stood outside for about half an hour, and I saw someone I knew, so we stood and chatted and I finished my coffee. By the time we were allowed back in the building, I figured I would waste more time, and go to the pound shop.

Well!! Was that nurse ever right: I was gone for about an hour and a half, and no sooner than I got into my room -guess who appeared!! I didn't cry this time, so I'm obviously making progress one way or another. But I wouldn't say I was friendly and joking, either. Lucky for her I am not a violent woman!!

Well, that was Thursday-and Friday morning, my cannula blew out my vein. So this one lasted nearly four days-and I was most upset, I can tell you: five cannulae in less than ten days. Must be a record.

Here is what I find interesting: when a man is assertive, strong, blunt, says what he thinks, doesn't take fools lightly (or in any way, shape or form), we call him forceful and we admire him. Isn't that the truth? He might be feared, but he is respected. If a woman does the same, she is called uncooperative, obnoxious, unstable, a few other very unpleasant adjectives-and a total bitch. Is that a double-standard, or what?? A man can stand up for himself, but a woman isn't supposed to do that. And I thought times have changed-I'm sure they have - somewhere - but not here. I was so tempted to say two words to the registrars who lectured me about my lack of cooperation - no, not those two words, although it did cross my mind!! - I nearly told them: bite me. THEN I would have said the other two words, but I decided to take the high road with all of them. After all, what goes around, comes around. I hope it all happens soon enough for me to enjoy it!!

With sore arms, bruises, holes in my veins, I didn't really want to come over to the internet cafe. I don't really care if I look like a drug addict-this is Whitechapel, after all!! But I just want to finish the course of antibiotics and go home. Not only are there some certifiably batshit crazy people on the ward (according to the increasingly harassed staff!), but the food...my friend came to see me the other day, and said that she wouldn't feed that slop to her dog. I have never seen broccoli that color, either!! If I stay here another week, I will look like an anorexic stick insect!!

I remember reading somewhere (not in the tabloids. I don't read tabloids, they're filled with mindless drivel, although sometimes they are really amusing, since they seem to take themselves oh so seriously) that we share 60% of our DNA with a banana, 50% with mice, and 99% with the chimpanzee. I look around me and I'm not the least bit surprised!!

Being called uncooperative and unreasonable made me remember an incident when I was a senior in college. I was only a few months away from graduation, and some guy in my psychology class turned around and called me a "castrating bitch" (I told you, that's what happens when a woman stands up for herself). I was upset-I don't know why!- and I caught up with the professor as we were leaving the building. I said, "he called me a castrating bitch. What should I do?" And she stopped, turned around, looked me right in the eye, smiled and said "go cut off his balls", and walked away. I still remember laughing about it-I'm sure he was a peanut, anyway.

I was in an antique shop a few months ago, and I saw this gizmo that looked really interesting. I asked the shopkeeper what it was, and I was told it was a medieval castrating tool (true story. I don't seem to be able to get away from the subject of castration. I can imagine men reading this blog and squeezing their knees together). Now I wish I had bought it. In this country, anything a woman carries to defend herself is considered an illegal weapon, and even a nail file could result in an arrest or a caution. With something like that, if stopped by a policeman I could truthfully say I'm carrying a nutcracker.

Thank goodness I carry mace.