Ah, the danger of complacency! Everyone I knew had the dreaded flu-the one that hangs around for weeks and weeks-and I was congratulating myself on avoiding it. Until January 2nd-now there is an oops for you!
I woke in the middle of the night with a headache that was so bad I thought my head was going to explode. Plus-the streaming eyes, streaming nose, nasty cough-and a very, very sore throat. And fever-mustn't forget the fever. It wouldn't be a vicious flu without the fever. Yuch-what a way to start the new year. And I am such a drama queen! But it was bad enough to keep me in bed for the past two weeks. I only went out when I really had to-then it was back to bed and suffering (I told you: drama queen).
On Monday the 5th I dragged myself to the National Hospital for Neurology and Neurosurgery (aka Queen Square. Everyone calls it Queen Square; it's shorter, and I'm being lazy.). Dr. Dimples wanted me to go back and see Dr. Davies, who is well known for her work in vestibular loss. But it took several letters to my GP before I was finally referred; apparently it costs the GP's surgery to refer patients to consultants. Go figure!
I was there for five and a half hours. I had to do several of the tests I had done in 2011-and then I had to wait an hour and a half before seeing Dr. Davies for the results. I practically took root. But I'm glad I waited, even though it was a real pain to do so.
Davies told me that the results were the same-and she showed me all the graphs and explained everything to me. In 2011, the registrar dismissed the fact that there was a minimal response to the tests, saying that the response was so small as to be insignificant. That isn't exactly what Davies said this time. She said that even a tiny response was enough for her to refer me for balance physiotherapy. She seemed to think that physio would help me deal with the condition-and she did say that there are things I will never be able to do again: go out after dark without someone going with me (I have no balance or night vision once it's dark), and so on. But-she also said that she couldn't say that I will ever be without the elbow crutch...she went on to say that she will state in her report that I am now handicapped-disabled, and permanently. That really hurt.
So what do I get for being disabled? A gold star? A badge? A certificate? Maybe a little statuette (of a pair of crutches)? I think she could be trying to get me to fight harder, but I'm not certain. I do know that there is a three month waiting list for physio-and she suggested that I use the waiting time to challenge my brain as much as I can by doing everything that makes me dizzy-over and over and over again. Davies pointed out that if I don't challenge the brain constantly, I will regress (how far, she doesn't know). So-I was glad about the balance rehab, sad about the waiting list, and more determined than ever to challenge myself to improve. After all, there is nothing wrong with my brain; it's one of my favorite organs. And if there is one thing I do-it's rise to a challenge.
Monday (the 12th) I had to go back to the London for my infusions. The last time I was there for more than five and a half hours (is that the magic number, I ask myself?)-this time I was only there four and a half hours. But that is because one of the registrars came to examine me. For one thing, my voice is gone. For another, it seems that I have pseudomonas again, according to the last sample they took in December. You'd think someone would have told me...so now I am on these huge antibiotics for the next three weeks. Bummer. But they are the last defense against my being shoved into the hospital for two weeks, so I'm taking them and not complaining (much).
And here I was, on New Year's Day, making a list of things I want to accomplish this year, and giving myself two weeks to sort it all out. Now two weeks have become four weeks-and the guys from Mulalley came to inspect what needs to be done to finish off my kitchen. So it will have taken them 11 months to do a job that could have been done in a week. Huh. And where is their head office? Essex-where else??
I feel that I need to mention the slaughters last week in Paris. I need to be a little bit political-because everything that happens (both inside and outside) affects my balance in one way or another. And Paris - I cried. I just could not believe it. I take pot shots at the Brits because it's fun-and it's deserved-and they're idiots. They take shots at us, I take shots at them-but nobody is coming up to anyone and stabbing, or shooting, or beheading them because people are terribly offended.
People call me courageous, determined, an inspiration (Davies said that, too: I just refuse to quit) - but really, the cartoonists who kept going and put out the latest magazine, complete with Mohammed on the cover- they are the brave ones. They refust to quit, and they refuse to be intimidated, to back down, to give in to terrorists. Those people are as gutsy as they come. I don't know where this is all going to end-anyone else feel that way? His Impotence (Cameron, the inept prime minister who is Britain's equivalent of Bush) won't issue a top security warning until a few bombs go off and a bunch of people are killed. He continues to maintain that nothing will happen. But these jihadists have no regard for human life. They're like cockroaches: kill a few and a hundred more jump up to take their place. I know that people want to think this is a safe world, that we are safer than we ever were before. But ask the families of the 17 murdered French people-or the families of the journalists and aid workers who were beheaded by IS. Are we safe? Hell no!
I'm keeping my head down. I have to do that anyway-or I'll fall over. But I won't let anyone stop me from blogging. Or fighting.
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