It's been another difficult time for me. My knee is still very painful, but the swelling has gone down. It's now the size of a grapefruit, rather than the size of a melon. That's what I call progress!!
On Saturday I felt so sorry for myself I couldn't even imagine hitting the Kettle Chips-my emergency feel good solution. I was so upset!! By Sunday I was feeling a little better-and by Monday I was blogging my anger and my disappointment-and, as always, life begins to look better when it isn't raining and when I am able to walk again. I'm still limping on both legs-but it isn't as bad as it was on Saturday, so I know I didn't break anything, I just bruised the hell out of my leg. And arm. And entire left side of my body...
Yesterday I was due to return to the Royal London to see Dr. Dimples. He is one of the only people at Barts who has been supportive and encouraging since the gentamicin fiasco, and every time I get down and think I have hit a wall, I remember what he said about neuroplasticity and that he thinks I can get that all-important 80% back-I just need to be patient. As if!!! But-only Dimples and Margaret (my GP) are encouraging. Nobody else gives a damn-especially the people who caused this. As Margaret reminds me, I need to let it go, because all these toxic emotions are preventing me from making progress.
Dimples wasn't there yesterday; I saw his registrar, Ashley. She was just great. I suddenly got very teary-eyed about the fact that recovery is taking such a long time-it's been two years and eight months!!- and she reminded me that she and Dimples both encourage me not to give up, because I will still make more progress. As Ashley said, I need to keep working: do the exercises, walk, do everything that makes me dizzy-and don't get upset. The more upset I get, the worse the dizziness gets. So I am cheered by the fact that I've got one more person in my corner-one more clinician in my corner, one more medical person who understands the (hideously slow) recovery process. So, onward and upward, and no more falling over!!
I was walking in Whitechapel before my appointment yesterday, and some imbecile nearly knocked me over. I didn't swear at him; this being Whitechapel, he could have pulled a gun or a knife, who knows? I did, however, call him a retard's afterbirth-that just came out before I thought about it. He just glared at me and kept walking. But one of the community officers (I call them the plastic policemen, because they are unarmed and just ordinary citizens in uniform, with no real powers) was standing right behind me, and started to laugh. She said I mustn't react like that-although she found it very funny-because many of these people are on drugs, or armed, or insane, or just dangerous, and it's obvious that I can't protect myself. And several people heard my outburst, and started laughing, too. I now have started a trend: people all over East London will be calling other people a retard's afterbirth. Huh-knock yourselves out. It's probably true anyway.
That has been my week so far. I will keep in mind what the plastic (and the real) police said about reacting to people who crash into me: no matter how hard it is to keep from swearing at them, I must not do so. It's just too dangerous. I'm learning to just shut up and keep walking. Arghhhh!!
On Saturday I wanted to just get on a plane and go home. I feel that way most of the time. In fact, I feel that way ALL of the time!! But I know that isn't possible-at least, not yet. So I will work harder, and I won't quit. If necessary I will go to the media-but I can't do that until I find another immunology center. I am more than a little bit between a rock and a hard place. That just makes me want to fight harder.
The best revenge is success.
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