And Then there was the Dressmaker's Dummy

I told you that I had to move into a disabled person's community after the gentamicin poisoning. It took me two years to be able to walk on my own without falling over every five seconds-or, maybe, every three seconds. When I was able to stand up and get out a bit, I met some of the other tenants. I coined the phrase "God's Waiting Room"-because most of the other people were in various stages of decrepitation (if that wasn't a proper word, it is now), and a few were really quite annoying. And, eight and a half years later...

I've changed the name of this little area to Purgatory. It fits. I'm always astonished at the way people who should know better spend their days sniping and bitching, moaning and whingeing, taking turns to be as nasty as they can to each other. And these guys are in their 60s, 70s and 80s. You would think they would be more mature. Really. Those of us who are a lot younger have the wisdom to hide out.

I might have told you this-in which case just blame it on a severe (and, hopefully, temporary) case of CRS (Can't Remember Shit). But I've got Terry the Tosser on one side of me, Ann-who has completely lost any marbles she might have had at one time- across the hall, and who keeps coming up to my face and telling me that her husband tried to kill her by shoving her onto a bed of nails (seriously. Nuts, or what?), and, of course, Zack the homicidal maniac right upstairs. Oh, joy. And you wonder why I get depressed? Or, rather, I wonder why I get depressed!

The person in the next building-whose property adjoins mine on one side- is called Flo. I know I called her Lil, for the sake of anonymity, but I do sometimes get confused with all this name changing stuff. Every third person in this country seems to be called Elizabeth, or Margaret, or whatever. So-correct names, it's easier. And they don't know about the blog. I have my doubts as to whether some of them are able to read.

Anyway, Flo has the hots for this carer who looked after a 94 year old man who lived next door to Flo. John went into hospital, and Kaz the carer kept going to visit Flo. I would go over there, mostly because she was very lonely on her own, so I kept her company as she reinvented herself and her past. Okay, well, Flo is delusional, too. Maybe I'm in a mental hospital but I don't know it yet.

So Flo cooks all Kaz's meals, does his laundry, buys his brandy, and lets him-get ready-sleep in her bed. I was horrified when I first heard this. After all, it is so inappropriate-plus he's got a family, and he is 20 years younger than she is. I had this awful feeling that she is being used-and she drools over him and stares at him every time he's over there. As far as I'm aware-she told me-there's no hanky panky, although she is really desperate for a shag.  It isn't the age difference, or the fact that he's married and has children, that really bothers me. It's the fact that he is so obvious about what he's doing, and when I tried to warn Flo, she snapped at me.

So what happened? Kaz went to see her one evening and told her that his company hasn't paid him, and owes him £200. She then turned around and said something about a younger man, and older woman and money entering the equation. And she told him that I said it. Nice, or what? She told me the next day, and I felt really a little sick to my stomach. I had a go at her, and she said that it wasn't a big deal. I stayed away from there for awhile, and a couple of weeks later she told me that she told him the truth. I said that if she really told him, she should tell him the truth again, but with me sitting there, so she could apologize to both of us. She asked me if I was calling her a liar, and I replied: isn't that what you are?

So that's the end of endless and mindless stories (that keep changing, because she always forgot what she told me), local gossip and occasionally really funny stories, because I knew what was real and what was obviously fantasy. That was also the end of being stabbed ruthlessly in the back and then having the perpetrator twisting the knife, just to be sure (figuratively speaking, of course).

I told my friend in Dublin, and she said that it's obvious that Flo was jealous of me, and felt threatened, even though I made it clear that Kaz isn't the kind of man I would be attracted to in a million years. When I thought about it, I realized that this is what's true. So, good luck to Flo and Kaz, I'm taking big steps-in the opposite direction.

The moral of the story? Be very careful about your associations. Be careful about meeting up with someone who clearly lives a fantasy life, and who feels threatened by anyone and everyone else. The signs were there: I chose to ignore them.

I saw my physiotherapist yesterday, and we sat and talked about how far I've come since the gentamicin nearly killed me. Cancer, and all the surgeries, the complications, the concussion, etc-I've come a tremendous way. She reminded me that I'm progressing well, even though it has taken me eight and a half years to get where I am now. And she also reminded me that I am far from finished; I've got more recovering to do, more balance I can get back. My physio lifted my spirits - I left Purgatory feeling down, but I left my physio feeling encouraged.

One day I'll be old and decrepit (well, old, anyway-hopefully), and I'll have to stop and say okay, this is enough. But that day isn't today. I've got plans-to live to 100, be completely sound in both mind and body, and be riding my Harley through Big Sur in California with my 80 year old toyboy sitting behind me. We stop to enjoy the scenery, and then I just pop my clogs.

Now that's my fantasy. And, back to reality: there's a flat white at Starbucks that's calling my name.

From Hibernation into the Fires of Hell

Okay, I know that sounds really melodramatic. I'm just being a drama queen.
And before I succumb to CRS (can't remember shit, if you are new to this blog), let me wish everyone a very Happy Thanksgiving!!

I'm celebrating, too. I have spent the last four months hiding. I usually journal every day-except when I don't, obviously. I have even left my blog for long periods at a time. And emails, texts, phone calls-I've avoided doing anything that wasn't absolutely necessary (like medical appointments).

I've called it hibernation, hiatus, sabbatical, holiday- everything but what it really was: depression. I missed holidays, birthdays (inclucing mine), Guy Fawkes Day ( what a shame that the poor guy failed when he tried to burn down Parliament. Too bad). I did only what I had to do, and then came back and just-sat. I sat. I wasn't low enough to self-harm, or even contemplate suicide, so don't anyone worry about that. I was just boringly gloomy. I didn't even clean  my kitchen-and everyone knows that, as soon as I'm pissed off, I'm cleaning. Ewww!

I thought a lot over the past couple of days, and enlisted the help of an old friend who has suffered from depression for years. And- now I understand what's been going on. For eight and a half years, it's been one thing after another, and then some.

Gentamicin nearly killed me; cancer came quickly after that; all the surgery, the treatment, three failed operations on the implants and all the complications-then this delightful year, with a severe concussion, the chest infection that left me in bed for nearly three months, and, of course, a few falls on my head.

Who wouldn't be depressed? I'm fighting my way through it, on my own, just as I've always done. I won't let it beat me. I've come this far, I won't give up now.

I have to say that I understand depression in a way that I never did before. In the past, things got me down- but not for this long. And there are so many people like my friend, who has been depressed for years.

I wish I had an answer. I'm thinking about it. Maybe I can help in some way. You all know how I love to ponder. Now I've got something important to ponder.

Meanwhile, there's turkey to ponder. Then there's Starbucks. When I start talking Starbucks, you know that I'm on the road to recovery. I just wish I had stock in the company...

Happy Thanksgiving. I can honestly say that I'll be back soon. I think I might have bored myself into recovery...