Finished? Hell, no...

The builders were supposed to be finished by Friday-last Friday. Actually, they told me Wednesday (last Wednesday). Why am I not surprised?



I told you about the Post-its-love those post-its. And on Friday, Derek was on his own. So by 4:15 he'd had enough-and was done for the day, leaving me with piles of kitchen in the living room. I'm getting used to it.



Today the painter is here, and the chippy (carpenter) should be here later. Tony, the site manager, was here about 15 minutes ago, and nobody had shown up. I've given them until 4pm to finish-I've got physio today, and I am not planning on missing that. It's the last one of this year. I get to be assessed. Woe is me! That is because I haven't really walked since the guys showed up on Monday. When I don't walk, even for a day, I see the difference. I did do short ones-but short ones aren't enough.



There is one good thing about the builders taking so long: I get to negotiate piles of cups, plates, all the usual kitchen stuff that is now taking up most of my living room. I have to step over stuff to find other stuff; I have to step over stuff if I want to get to the phone; I get to step over stuff if I want to switch on the television. I call it "rehabilitation": vestibular physiotherapy. And it has been very, very difficult.



The first few days saw me nearly falling over. I had to catch myself, and I thought I had broken some glasses when I tripped (I didn't). By Thursday I noticed that I was finding it easier to step over and around stuff. I thought that was interesting (If I thought that was interesting, I really need to get out more). This all shows that my brain was getting used to stepping around and over-and, although I wasn't pleased about builders dirt all over the place (and in my lungs, too, which I found decidedly underwhelming), I could see the difference in the way I was moving. Shows that my brain is still working (of course it is; I'm not British, am I?).



I had tremendous trouble with breathing, though. I'm trying to get outside as much as I can, just to see if I can clear my lungs out a bit. I cough so much I sound like I've got some terrible disease. But flu is going around, so everyone around me sounds the same. I'm in good company. So far, no flu-but I shouldn't say that, because that is an open invitation, isn't it?



Yesterday I met my friend Daniela at the Royal Festival Hall-it's been many years since I've been to a concert there. It was the Christmas concert, and I really enjoyed it. It was Daniela's first outing since her husband died in June, so it was difficult for her-but we had a good time, and there was an outside food market that was still open when we got out at 5:15. We took our lives (and health) in our hands and bought some vegan food at one of the stalls. We figured it couldn't be too bad-of course, it could have been, but it was delicious, and then she went to get her car and I took the Underground back to the bus, and back home. That was a trip!



In the beginning-now four and a half years ago-I couldn't get out of bed. I couldn't walk. I couldn't do anything. For two years, I was effectively crippled. It was scary. Now it is four and a half years later, and all the determination to get better has had results. I've got a long way to go-but I have come a long way, too. I have trouble in the dark, in the rain, in the dark and the rain, in bright sunlight-but now I don't let it stop me. I went out. I took the bus in the dark. I got on the tube -a major, major achievement, because I didn't fall over, although I got a little bit dizzy as I got on and off the train. Walking through the station was tough, because people don't seem to look (or care) where they're going or who they nearly knock over. But I did it. A few bruises-but I'm getting used to it. Probably too used to it.



I haven't come nearly as far as I wanted-but I have come a long way. And it's funny (funny odd, not funny as in ha ha) - I was speaking with one of the admin ladies from my doctor's surgery, and she commented that I am incredibly strong and brave-and powerful. Well, that gave me a bit of a boost. A lot of people - the ones who know what I have been through - say the same thing. Of course, they don't see me on the really bad days-but the bad days aren't as frequent as they were in the beginning. Life isn't great, but it is far better than the alternative. I won't quit. I can't quit. I can't stop now. I need to work harder, and more consistently.



Anger, bitterness, hatred, the sense of injustice-all those things drove me to keep pushing. Now I need reasons that are less negative, and less destructive. I need to find positive reasons to keep going. I'm working on it. It won't happen overnight-but it will happen.