May the farce be with you

It's back to business as usual: the end of the first week of the new year and nothing has changed. And it's raining. Again. I didn't break any resolutions, though. That's because I didn't make any. Whenever I do, I've broken them before the first two days are out.

Actually, I did make one resolution-kind of. I said the same thing I said last year: I would do my best to be kind to the brain-dead. The brain-damaged. The Brits (it's all the same, really). Plus all the people who have flooded into this country and brought their quaint customs with them: the desire to live off the taxpayers and never work a day in their lives, the absolute refusal to bathe, and, of course, the treatment of women as if we are all pieces of furniture. It is really, truly amazing. What year is this? If a man hit me I would take the sharpest tool I could find and stick it in the tool's eye. And speaking of hitting...

My resolve to be kind lasted until last Monday. I was walking up the road, minding my own business, and some douchebag came up behind me and pushed me out of the way, right into another person who was walking the other way. This jerk said "sorry, darling" - and. honestly, it just slipped out. I said, loudly, and as sarcastically as I could: "well, fuck you, darling". He turned around, and I raised my hand and raised the appropriate finger, and said "you imbecile". I thought he was going to hit me-but there were several people behind me, so he thought better of it and walked away. Someone behind me said "good for you"-of course, if the imbecile had come back, people would probably have just watched. I suppose that is "human" nature?

So there went my resolution of 2016. It's very difficult for me to accept that people (not everyone, thank goodness, but a lot) are descended from a long line of thieves, rapists, murderers and lunatics-and that just describes the "royal" family. So many others are quite obviously the product of centuries of inbreeding. No wonder the average IQ of people in this country is around 70. I'm surprised that it is that high. So, really, I have no excuse for being upset when people act like imbeciles.Eeek!!

On Tuesday I had my second throat biopsy. I was really worried; I was afraid that it would be as painful as the first one, in October, when I felt like someone had hit my throat with a flame thrower-and punched me in the face while I was sedated. All that and they had to repeat it because they didn't take enough tissue for a biopsy. Incompetent, or what?

So this time I spoke with the consultant beforehand, and asked him to give me his word that he would do the biopsy-and not allow anyone else to do it. It was the same operation-and afterwards I felt so much better. I had some swelling and soreness, but nothing like the first time they performed this. It just goes to show you how much better it is to be treated by a qualified surgeon. I think that last time they must have taken someone off the street, given him a pair of gloves and a scalpel, and told him to knock himself out. Well-at least I hope they gave him a pair of gloves!

I wasn't completely over the biopsy when I had my infusions on Thursday, and I felt terribly sick afterwards. It has taken me until now to really feel like I am back to my irascible self. And I am cheered by the fact that I only have the second reconstruction to go-in March-so I will have time to actually have something resembling a life. I went out today and copied all the vestibular exercises and charts I was given at Queen Square; I will be putting them up on a wall so I can see them when I do what I am supposed to be doing-and I have spent so much time running from hospital to hospital that I haven't done as much as I've wanted.

I've lost six years; it's been six years since I first heard the term "pseudomonas", and it all went downhill from there. I've got a lot of time to make up. When I get down, I just remind myself how far I've come-I've got a long way to go, but I have also come a long way. I should never say I feel lucky-because every time I do, something else happens. I'll just think it. And I will remember that I promised myself to be kind to the brain-dead (as much as possible).

I suppose that calling the next person who crashes into me a total asswipe is out of the question?