I opened an email from someone who calls me her "best friend"- and I was so unprepared for such a vicious and poisonous email that it threw me into a tailspin. I still don't know why she wrote what she wrote, but it made me depressed and upset all week. I really gave it a lot more time and energy than it deserved. But she is supposed to be a friend. Huh. Some friend.
When I reported on the breaking and entering-which wasn't really breaking and entering, but was, to the four of us, hilarious- I received an irate email from this same "friend", asking me if I was insane to do this and then put it online for everyone to see. She also wrote that she was bothered that I was supposed to be writing this about recovery from gentamicin, and it was turning into something else entirely.
So I smoothed things over, and told her not to worry, that I wasn't insane, or stupid, and that it was not a big deal-and that the blog was evolving, just as I was also evolving. There was never a comment about it, but I was bothered at her attitude. I tried to pass it off as concern-until I read her abusive email on Sunday.
She felt it necessary to dredge up the breaking and entering again-and also demanded to know why I was badmouthing this country, since this country has done so much for me, and "given" me this, that and the other. She was so vicious, so poisonous, I was so upset-because this was supposed to be a very close friend of many years. And yet she was on the attack. So I had to walk away from the computer for an hour, or I would have fired one back that was just as nasty, and that would have been the end of a long friendship. It still might be the end. She also went on to say that she was going to re-evaluate our friendship. Say what?
So I wrote back, and I gave what I believe was a tactful reply-I said (diplomatically) that she was wrong, I told her why, and I said that if she wanted to no longer be friends I thought she should let me know. And what did I get back the next day? An email saying that "we are good". There was no acknowledgment of what I had written-and no apology. And both would, to me, have been appropriate. Instead I felt that the reply was abrupt and condescending. So I will tell you what I told her, just in case anyone has the same feelings (I don't know why you would, but I want to discuss this anyway).
First, the "breaking and entering"-because it's shorter to write about...the person who whacked the door was the owner of the property, and the only person who was paying the mortgage-this meant that it was her right to get the door open. Nothing except the lock (which was pretty old anyway) was broken; no walls were damaged, no glass broken, no pets injured-so, technically, it wasn't breaking and entering, since we did nothing illegal. I think of it as a bit of DIY. We did some redecorating. If that toad didn't want anyone to see his paperwork, he should have put it somewhere else. Enough said. So there goes any reason for that first vicious email-which I chose to ignore in the end, because I thought that my friend was worried. That isn't any excuse for being nasty and poisonous, though-and Sunday's email was ten times worse.
From the time I got off the plane, looked around and decided to stay and work (falling in lust the first week I was here was probably the reason I stayed anyway), I paid taxes. I paid very heavy taxes. Those of us who work subsidize those who don't work. Those of us who pay into the NHS (yes, there is a contribution that comes out of our paycheck) are subsidizing those who don't pay anything into the system. It's called being "on the dole"-unemployed, or on benefits, or whatever. I worked. I paid. I never took a penny from anyone, not even my ex when I left him (more fool me for that mistake!). And I paid for private medical coverage, because I didn't want to wait hours, weeks, months to see a doctor if I needed one. So I didn't live off the NHS either.
This country "gave" me precisely nothing. If the three medical morons hadn't crippled me, ruined my life ans I knew (and know) it, and very nearly killed me, I would never have been offered this apartment I'm renting now. I'm renting. I'm paying a hefty rent, and all the other expenses, and nobody has "given" me anything. In fact, when I was called just two months after the gentamicin and told I needed to look at this place and give an answer immediately, my heart sank. It was filled with mouse droppings-obviously an infestation. There was a concrete floor, holes in walls, no kitchen except for two cupboards and a sink.That was it. Nobody would clean it up, so I had to take a dustpan and brush to get as much of the mouse droppings up as I could. I had to pack and unpack; I had to buy carpets, curtains, all the kitchen appliances, and pay a carpenter to make me shelves, since there were empty walls in the kitchen. I moved into a slum, and I had to do the best I could to make it liveable. So no, nothing was free. Nothing was given. I paid for everything, and I always have done. That accusation made me feel sick.
So that deals with those two issues. And, as far as I am concerned, perhaps I should be the one who is "re-evaluating" our friendship. That email was nasty, poisonous, and there was absolutely no excuse for it-and no excuse for not coming back and apologizing. My "friend" needs to put it right-unless, of course, she really wants to end the friendship. This is someone I have known for a very long time, and I trusted. Huh..
Am I still going to throw potshots at the Brits? Hell, yes! For one thing, it's fun, and they have been lobbing grenades in the direction of my country and my people-for the twenty years I've lived here. So I'm firing missiles back, with absolute impunity. If they are going to dish out the abuse, they should man up and be able to take it, too. I'm living in a country in which a large percentage (or, it seems like a large percentage) like our money but find us one step below a bad case of genital herpes (and, no, I have never had genital herpes, but the analogy sounds pretty interesting, don't you think?).
I'm not the only one lobbing grenades over here, either. Today Scotland goes to the polls to vote for independence. It's a very close call, and I personally think that the "yes" team will lose to the "no" team. I have a feeling that more voters will vote to stay in the union-not because they love the Brits, but because they are concerned about how independence will affect them financially. I can understand that - but England just screws everyone over. They did it with strip mining in Wales (so the Welsh hate them), they did it in Ireland, in India, in Hong Kong...and, of course, in Scotland.
I would love to be wrong. I would love to see the Scots become independent of that pinhead Cameron and independent of Brussels (why we don't leave the European Union is a mystery). I think that the Scots would do better if they could finally rule themselves-but I'm not Scottish and I don't live in Scotland, so all this palaver really isn't my business. But what a cosmic sized kick in the ass for the English if the Scots vote for independence! It really would serve them right for mistreating these people for so long. And I'm not the only person who thinks that, either.
I have to say that recovery and healing are affected by everything around me: people, weather, environment, everything. As I fight for both survival and for some balance to be restored, I am a lot stronger than I was four years ago. Did I give up? No, I did not, even though there were setbacks (like cancer) and times when I was so frustrated I just wanted to quit. But I fight. I fight, and I fight back, and the more setbacks and crap I go through, the more determined I am to recover as much as I can, and live as normal a life as I can. So I will continue to lob grenades and missiles (figuratively speaking, of course), and to the person who derides me, I say: oh, well, TFB. Or-WTF.
What else can I say, except: Fire in the hole!
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