Trust in God but Tie Your Camel

Well, the holidays are finally over, and I can come out of hibernation!! Hooray.

I remember a saying my mother taught me when I was a child; it came from her grandfather, and his father, and - well, who knows who made it up? It's a keeper, though: Trust in God but tie your camel. I asked her what it meant, and she told me that I needed to have faith and trust, but also be sensible, be cautious, don't do things haphazardly. Lock the front door, don't just assume you're safe. Lock your car door, don't walk down dark alleys at night...that sort of thing. It isn't being paranoid, but it is being smart. Don't confront (however politely) someone who turns out to be a deranged psychopath who will then beat the living crap out of you!! Well, okay, she didn't tell me the last bit, I had to learn that the hard (and painful) way!!

So the police told me last week that my attacker would probably get away with only a warning - because there were no credible witnesses and no CCTV. Every other block in London has so many cameras, I'm surprised the posts to which they are attached are still standing!! But not where I live - and the Crime Prosecution Service (I call it the Criminal Protection Service, and with very good reason) won't take any case to court unless they are certain they will win. So it's pretty obvious why everyone from everywhere comes to London: rob someone, beat someone, kill someone - unless it is on film, you will get away with it. That tells you a lot about the legal system in this country: it's barbaric.

I've been pretty freaked out about the whole thing since it happened-more than three weeks ago - and I didn't leave the house for the first two weeks, unless I absolutely had to go out. And I have decided that I will not let the lunatic win. She had me concussed, in pain, and fearful for three weeks, and I'm not giving her any more of my time. My time is precious. This has been a wakeup call.

My physiotherapist got it right yesterday when he said that bad things happen to good people. I realize now that I have to accept that, and accept that those bad people will go on doing what they are doing until someone stops them. Time for me to mind my own business, and stop trying to be a one-person neighborhood watch. Let someone else get the crap beaten out of them. I'm done.

Last year at this time I still could barely get out of bed without falling over. I was thinking about that over the past three weeks: last year I was in a second floor flat with internal stairs going up to the kitchen and living room, and I kept falling down those stairs. For several months, I needed physiotherapists to help me walk, because I couldn't do it on my own. And I needed an occupational therapist to come in to help me wash myself. How humiliating is that, not being able to wash yourself!!!!!! I cried, I cried buckets of tears, wondering if I would ever be able to do anything on my own. I couldn't shower; I had to strip wash: sit on the toilet and fill the sink, use a washcloth to clean myself. I hope I never have to do that again. It was degrading and humiliating. Imagine being old and having someone have to wash you, without ever being able to do it yourself!!!!

It has taken nearly 18 months: it will be 74 weeks this weekend. I have come a long way. AND-I will NEVER forget where I was this time last year. It took from August (2010) to December (2010) for me to even be able to go up and down a flight of ten steps-holding onto the banister to keep from falling over. If there was no banister, I had to go up and down while sitting on my backside. I did a lot of that; I'm surprised my backside isn't smaller!!!

I'll write more next time about the way things were last year, and about the changes I have seen since this whole thing happened. I can sit in front of a computer and write this blog: that is one of the biggest victories I have experienced in 18 months. How great is that! And-I can get into a shower without falling over and cracking my skull open. The first time I was able to do that was in January, 2011. I remember that vividly; I got out of the shower and sat and cried.

We take so much for granted. I will never again take anything for granted.

72 Weeks and a brand new year

It's New Year's Day...2012...a brand new year. I'm looking at my life over the last 72 weeks, and I am deeply saddened by what has happened - but - I have decided that I have to be more positive about life! Huh??
I took a long walk this morning, and I thought about all my friends - the real, true ones, the ones who not only encouraged me, but also had a go at me when I became depressed, anxious, despondent, on the verge of giving up. Those friends!!!!

I'm really lucky, when I think about it all objectively (and I haven't been very objective of late, I can tell you!). I'm not disfigured, I'm not blind, I haven't lost any limbs, I'm not confined to a wheelchair - I've got no terminal diseases...the list can go on and on, if I think about it. I suppose people who are worse off than I would just sniff and tell me off, tell me that what I have is minor (in the scheme of things). Perhaps so; I don't feel any better, though. I'm never grateful for other people's misfortunes, and I don't look at anyone else and think "there but for the grace of God"...these 18 months have been as traumatic and awful for me as worse things are for other people. It is all relative, isn't it?

I know that the loss of vestibular function is both total and permanent. And I have a choice-probably the same choice as those people I mentioned in this (and my previous) posts: I can be bitter, and angry, say "why me?" (there is no answer to that one, except "why not me?"), or I can roll over, stick my legs in the air, and just quit. Huh. I have been lazy, I have been a world class procrastinator, but the one thing I am NOT is a quitter!!

Now I have to look at my life and adjust it to include the things I CAN do! By "adjusting" I mean, really, "accepting". I won't be able to ride a bicycle, or pilot a hot air balloon, or balance on a wobbleboard at the gym. So what? Okay, I need someone to come with me if I want to go out when it's dark, because my eyes don't focus in the dark, my balance is non-existent, and I don't really want to fall over in front of a moving bus. That would be decidedly unfortunate-and very painful, too! I need someone else to drive (the way people in this country drive, I could close one eye and do a better job than 99% of them!!! In fact, when I couldn't stand up at all, I was probably a better driver than 99% of them!!).

I have to be very careful around the house, because I still will suddenly turn my head and fall over. Even my bruises have bruises. And if I turn around suddenly, I can walk into a wall. Ouch. Very unpleasant. Just ask my face. I'm not as bad as I was last year-or even six months ago. When I would leave the house, I would look as if someone beat me up before I left. I'm sure the neighbors all thought that I was living with an abuser!!! Of course, I staggered badly, too, so they probably thought I was either an alcoholic-or on drugs. Or both. It took more than a year for me to finally admit that I couldn't give a monkey's what people think.

I have to walk. I have to turn my head. I have to do all the exercises the vestibular physiotherapist gave me, and I have to do them religiously. No fooling around there!!! If I don't do the work, I don't get whatever balance and vision I can, and I will forever be a disabled cripple-certainly in my own eyes.

Happy 2012 to anyone reading this. Happy, healthy 2012 to my friends, all of whom are reading this (I hope!). My hope is that all my readers (or-any readers!!) will pass this on, and that this blog will go global; my hope is that someone who can benefit from my experience will read these posts, and will understand that they are not alone. If I can push myself to carry on regardless, if I can refuse to give up, or give in to depression and feelings of hopelessness, so can someone else. It takes a lot of determination NOT to give up, I can tell you that. So- Happy New Year. Back into the fray. This is a battle I cannot afford to lose.

Ho Ho Ho and all that!

Well, hooray, Christmas is over - and I'm glad of that! For one thing, this is my second Christmas as a fully fledged cripple-at least to the NHS!!

Sometimes, when I suddenly fall over, or turn my head quickly and catch myself as I fall-I feel like a cripple, too. But I have recovered some balance and visual faculties, so I try to look positively at life. That's pretty difficult.

It was just before Christmas, several years ago (nine, to be exact), that I decided to finally file for a divorce. Life was unbearable, we were both unhappy-and I couldn't bring myself to say anything at Christmastime. So-we both had a lousy time, and in early January I dropped the bombshell. I couldn't even talk to him about counselling - it was a very nasty breakup, and I have been feeling horribly guilty ever since. Every Christmas just brings it all back. I think, after nine years, it is finally time to let that go and move forward. I wanted to do that last year-but, of course, gentamicin got in the way!!!!

One very good friend phoned me last Saturday-and I phoned the rest of my friends after that-I was lucky, I got most of them at home. I felt much better afterward, but I still am a bit down, even after nearly a week!! I keep saying that I must not be down for long, because my situation could be so much worse. It could be; that doesn't make me feel a whole lot better!!

I'm lucky that I have great friends, a small group of people who have stuck with me through thick and thin over the years--and a lot more thin than thick, so far!! They have encouraged me, supported me emotionally, had a go at me when I sat around feeling sorry for myself...I think that friends have helped me through this ordeal-and this ordeal is far from over.

I don't do facebook, or any social networking sites, because - how can you have over 1,000 friends??? REALLY???? I can count my loyal ones on one hand - and loyal they certainly are!!! The rest are just numbers-although I suppose I would get this blog out to a lot more people if I broadcast it. People surf. People look for anything interesting, don't they? Well, this is interesting to me, if to nobody else.

One of the biggest problems with being on a walking stick-a hospital walking stick, not the cute canes with all kinds of designs on them, but a real medical (ugly)job- is that I am a walking target. So I will tell you what happened to me two weeks ago (today).

I decided to go out at 6pm - just around the corner to a little shop where I could buy a pint of milk. I figured- I know I am not supposed to go out after dark, since my mechanism is gone and it is difficult enough for me to stay upright during the day, let alone at night!!! So out I went, thinking that if I don't think I can make it when I reach the corner, I will turn back.

The short version: I got attacked, almost outside my front door. It wasn't a man who attacked me, but an older woman (who outweighed me by at least 100 pounds). I had no chance to even fight back. She punched, kicked, bit me, took my phone (I was trying to call the police) and smashed it, then got into her car and tried to drive into me. Imagine that!! Do I still have faith in human nature and decency? What the heck-would you?

It's a police matter now, they got her, but I'm told that the CPS (Crime Prosecution Service, also known -to me-as the Criminal Protection Service) probably won't prosecute her because no witnesses came forward, and there is no CCTV where I live. Every other corner in London has enough video cameras to collapse the lampposts holding them, but not where I live. So I may be SOL when it comes to putting this psycho behind bars (where I think she belongs).

Now: what is it about human nature and decency?? The detective in charge of the case told me that I am a prime target, since I am obviously disabled (I do dislike that term, it does make me feel like a hopeless and helpless cripple!!). Wow...this is such a lovely place in which to live.

So-that is the latest news-for the time being, at least. I'll do more before the new year rolls in.

I thought I would be boring people with this-I thought I would be boring myself with this, let alone anyone else. Perhaps I am mistaken?

I wanted to just quit so many times, and this weekend will be 72 weeks...I never thought it would be like this for so long. I get discouraged, but I'm still here, and one thing I am NOT is remotely suicidal (I'm a devout coward). I just won't give up. One of my close friends calls me a warrior princess, and sent me a crown, which made me smile (a lot) and which hangs above my bed. People are rooting for me, and pushing me when I don't feel like pushing myself. It's amazing how much that helps!

Until next time...