It's a heatwave!

Yesterday we had snow. Today we have 45F-or, allegedly, will have temps up to 45F this afternoon: a veritable heatwave. Then it goes cold again. If there was a place that is peaceful, quiet, remains sunny and around 20C (68F) all year around, only rains when we are asleep...I would go there. Of course, so would everyone else!!! Nice dream, though.

Sunday's church excursion got me thinking-of course, what else do I have to do, anyway? I'm still mystified as to how (and why) atheists want to go to a church...I'll be returning on Sunday to find out. My interest has been piqued. And-for two years and eight months I have found it difficult to be interested in much of anything, with the exception of remaining upright so I don't fall in front of a moving bus. In that sense, church has helped me-go figure!!

I did go back to the optician yesterday. I thought Talia would have a coronary when she saw me complaining about these glasses. But-at more than £500 (much more!), they need to be absolutely right. So the woman who sold them to me is having them fixed. It will be another week without glasses, which is a nuisance, but at least I should (allegedly) be able to read without twisting my head around to near breaking point.Hooray.

I thought that time was just dragging by-but, in fact, it seems to be moving at something approaching warp speed. It will soon be Easter, and I will probably have my knee surgery shortly thereafter. It will be really painful-but in a few months time I should be in a lot less pain. And I need to be able to walk without falling over and injuring that knee again. Practice, I guess.

I am seriously considering going public and contacting the newspapers about Bart's. I haven't quite got there yet-and I don't even know if there will be any interest. What I do know is that I have been stuck for more than two and a half years, and now I have to unstick myself. Nobody can do it for me. Those three or four sessions with Dr. Weirdo didn't help me at all-except to prove to me that I am more sane than he is, and that I can be my own therapist. And I won't even have to travel!!

It is now March, and there are all kinds of events going on. The Tate has exhibitions, there is something called Tiger Tracks at St. Pancras-in an effort to save the 1,500 tigers still alive in the wild from becoming an extinct species-and I am going to that this week to see what information is being offered.

I feel a bit badly: I am sitting on my posterior in North London and people are destroying the planet even as I sit here. It's that cornerstone of life again: life is unfair. But-people are trying to do something, and if enough people get in there and make enough noise, perhaps we can save something...or am I just being the eternal optimist?

A very strange week, indeed

I did go to collect my glasses on Saturday-and I was afraid they were going to be so heavy (because of the prisms) that I would need a forklift to lift them. No-I didn't look like the character from Harry Potter (the one who has glasses like coke bottles). The things were normal-but I am supposed to be okay with them, and I'm really having trouble. I have a small nose and the things just slide down - and off. It's hilarious-good thing my reflexes are fast enough to grab them before they hit the floor.

I did say the week was strange. On Saturday I went to Islington to check out the Unitarian Church. They were having an International Women's Day celebration (a day late-what the heck, why not). The building was teeming with people. In fact, Islington was teeming with people. I had to dodge some of the people pushing their baby buggies-and the men were the worst offenders. Are these people blind, or what??

I got the chance to speak with the minister, whose name is Andy. And this is where it gets very surreal (read that as weird, very weird). He is an ordained Unitarian minister who was raised Jewish, but is an atheist. And he said that most of the congregation was also atheist. Go figure. How do you have a church with an atheist congregation, and a Jewish atheist minister? Er...pardon????

Now, I haven't been really interested in much in two years and eight months. My only real interest was survival-survival and working to get as much balance back as I could. I was really, really afraid that I would spend the rest of my life falling over, with bruises on my bruises, and alone, because who on earth would want a friend who has no balance, poor vision, and falls over without any warning? But I have to say that my interest in the Unitarians got me out of my fear of going anywhere, and yesterday I trekked over to Hackney to attend the Sunday service at the other Unitarian Church-which has stood on that spot for a hundred and something years. It was a proper church: pews with little doors at the end and all.

It really appealed to me, too. There was no dogma-Andy told me he loathes dogma, and so do I, so we were off to a good start. After a sermon on generosity-that had no mention of anyone dying for our sins, or the fact that God won't love anyone who doesn't believe in Jesus, and all that stuff (sorry, Baptists!), we had a coffee hour. I practically sprinted into the next room so I could talk with some of the congregation. And I heard from people of all ages, all backgrounds, all cultures, all beliefs, and all religions. They all had a common goal: personal growth and evolution, ignoring dogma and concentrating instead on action: what they could do for others, without judging people who believed differently from them. I thought: I like this, I'm in.

So I will go back next week, even though it is a bit of a trek to get there. I think it's worth it. People actually care about other people, about working together to build a better future...I might sound a bit Pollyanna-ish, and I certainly want to speak with more people next week-but I liked the people I met. There was no "you have to come to a housegroup/study group/church every week to prove you are a good Christian, and if you don't and aren't a good Christian, we don't want to have anything to do with you. Unitarians are so much more liberal and non-judgmental- I really enjoyed my Sunday.

I have worked very hard and I have been very much alone while I was trying to survive. I have a really close friend overseas-but she is overseas, and I don't want to dump everything all over her (by phone, too!). So it might be nice to just meditate on a Sunday with people who don't proselytize, or try to recruit me (or anyone else) with such missionary zeal-or who try to engender guilt when I'm not in church each week. Who needs that? I'm not an atheist-but I'm not a Baptist, either. No offense to anybody who is religious-but when it comes to converting me, back off!!!!!

Telling me I'll go to Hell if I don't believe makes me laugh: where do you think I've been for the past two years and eight months??

And so I am back to walking, and back in the gym-nothing to do with Unitarians, but I am finally pulling myself out of the deep hole I've been in since the whole gentamicin thing started. Andy made a point during his sermon that stayed with me (good timing, too). He said that this is the only life there is; live it.

Seeker? Finder? Lurker?

It has been one of those weeks-and I'm glad it's nearly Friday, because I want to write this one off.

I've had a lot of balance-shall we say, challenges??-this week, and my eyesight has been giving me a lot of grief. At least I know the reason for that: and next Wednesday I should have my eyeglasses, which I have to wear all the time. I will look like a headmistress. All I will need is a whip.

The weekend was okay. I challenged myself to walk a lot-I didn't go to the gym, but I walked. And I walked. And I walked. I found myself feeling a bit guilty for not going to church on Sunday. I put this down to the brainwashing of my youth: I sang in the church choir for so many years, but I didn't take any of the sermons on board. Really-if you are religious, ignore this bit-but I thought it was all a load of crap. I will probably burn in Hell-but hey, so will the majority of the rest of the world, since Christianity is only in the minority.

This all started last week, when I walked around the corner and there was one of the pillars of the Baptist Church-someone I truly wanted to avoid. Oh, we miss you at church, she said. Oh, sure you do: another one of the sheep, I guess. So I said I would go back as soon as I have the time. Oh, the implied displeasure!! I am one of the flock who escaped: an escapee, a heathen. Yep-so sue me. I've never been good at doing what I was told-especially when someone engenders guilt (or tries to. I'm at the age now where I don't fall for that!!).

Nobody has the right to tell us what to do, how to feel, or any of that-unless they are paying our bills, we don't need other people to tell us how to live our lives. Do we?

I spoke with someone in my meditation group on Monday. A few of us from the old mindfulness workshop meet every month to meditate, and generally catch up. Mostly, we meditate, and keep things general, not personal, so nobody feels like they have to divulge any personal information. It works well-although on Monday evening things did get a bit personal. One of the women was in a very deep depression, and was looking for a way out of it. I felt so badly for her. I wanted to help-to provide some comfort, to perhaps give a road map she could follow. I mentioned the gentamicin atrocity, although I was able to just talk a bit about it without any heat behind my words-so I have come a long way, working with the anger and betrayal.

I think I have been seeking a way around (or through) the anger I have felt over the last two years and seven months. And this woman's depression started me ruminating (I am so terrific at ruminating!!). I think the mindfulness aspect of just noticing how you feel, and where in the body you feel it, helps. I do think that the "live in the present, not the past or future" idea is a great idea-but here in the West it isn't so easy to accomplish. Like every other change in perception and consciousness, this all takes work, and it also takes time. One thing I learned from the experiences of the last two years and seven months: everything takes time. And healing happens in its own time, not ours. Grrrr!!! Not a pleasant truth-but a truth nevertheless.

Tomorrow is International Women's Day, and there are all kinds of events happening in London. I've decided to return to the gym (after two weeks of doing nothing. Boo hiss!!), and then go out and see what is going on. When we were talking on Monday about what we do during the day (a mindfulness exercise), I discovered (to my absolute shame) that unless I go to the hospital for some test or another, I do absolutely nothing. Eeek-this is my only life, and I am wasting it. I am totally wasting it. How saddening.

Yesterday I had to go to the Royal London to see Matt, my consultant. I had a few sleepless nights, wondering what I would say-since he lost his temper when I was an inpatient and threatened to discharge me into the community (and all because he trusts the crippler, and I do not). I was polite, and I said nothing controversial. Neither of us really knew what to say...but we both got through it, and I must admit I was rather proud of myself for keeping schtum. I am certainly not known for keeping schtum!!!! But all the faith and trust I had in him as a medical professional disappeared when he yelled at me for daring to criticize Grigoriadou. And that faith and trust will never return.

That is another thing I need to find a way around: the total loss of faith and trust in anyone at Barts and the London-in fact,the loss of faith and trust in the medical profession in this country.

Perhaps Talia (the optician) is right: I have a moral obligation to make this public. I really don't want anyone else to go through what I have been through since 2010. I'm less worried about going public than I am worried that nobody will be interested!!

And this is the latest

This has been an interesting week. The newspapers have been going all out to speculate about the South African athlete who murdered his girlfriend. When the media gets hold of something, anything can happen. It's trial by media in this country-and probably everywhere else.

I got tired of it all pretty quickly. He "allegedly" killed her because he thought she was an intruder. Of course-witnesses heard them fighting, he "allegedly" beat her up, then one of them was in the bathroom and he shot her four times. Er...I don't know who was where, but if this was an accident, I'm the Duchess of Windsor.

I have to say that-even after the first ten times this whole event was on the news-I still couldn't remember his name. I keep calling him Pistachio. Whatever. Pistorius, Pistachio-actually, who cares? I'm growing bored with all the drivel in the news-most of which is fabricated, anyway.

I've been doing my walking, but being a bit more careful about it all. My friend advised me to just pick a route-a mile or so-and time my walking without thinking about whether I do 5,000 steps or 11,000 steps. That makes good sense. At 11,500 steps-like two days ago-I am ready for resuscitation. And I might just end up with legs the size of tree trunks. Anybody ever really look at all the athetes? They look like quarterbacks-quarterbacks with no boobs. Hmmm...that's a bit gross, isn't it??

Yesterday I went to have my eyes checked. I knew there was a problem, because I've been getting some really bad headaches. The ophthalmologist at Barts last checked my eyes over a year ago, and suggested I see an optician when my eyes settle down. I think I left it a bit late.

It's a good thing I pushed myself to go. It's like going to the dentist, or the doctor: who really wants to go until it is absolutely unavoidable? And-it turns out that my vision has suffered since my last eye exam three years ago-BUT-my eyes aren't working together. I don't have one pointing one way and one pointing the other (that would be interesting!), but they aren't focusing together. The problem, said the optician, isn't with my eyes themselves, but with the lack of a vestibular system. This means that the gentamicin did more damage than just completely destroy the vestibular system. It affected my eyesight and vision, too.

It won't get worse-but it also won't get better in a hurry. So now I join the legions of people who need to wear glasses all the time. And-my glasses have a prism in each lens, so that is why I need to wear them at all times. The prisms should work the eyes so they begin to focus together. That will also help my balance. So why didn't they tell me any of this at Bart's?

Oh, what an interesting life this is! As we get older, things begin to break, calcify, drop off, head south...sad, isn't it? Of course, when we consider the alternative, growing older isn't all that bad; at least, we are still alive, even with our asses trying to touch the floor. I'm working out before my bingo wings grow bingo wings.

One interesting thing about my appointment yesterday: Talia, the optician, has known me for a few years, and she asked about the walking stick and the history. So I told her what happened. She was outraged on my behalf-she said to go to the newspapers; the radio stations in London would probably pick up the story and the Health Minister would have to respond to the question of why gentamicin is still being given when there are so many newer-and safer-antibiotics on the market, ones that will do the same job but without the hideous side effects.

Talia made a point of telling me that I am morally obligated to do this so that other people don't suffer the same fate. Actually, other people have suffered the side effects of gentamicin-so I will give it a great deal of thought. I don't want to go off (as I very nearly have several times before), make a big fuss, and end up shooting myself in the foot. I still need the immunologist at Barts-until I can sort out another one.

Well, onward and upward-and that's just my backside...time to work out. If someone found a way for people to just think about exercise and grow muscles and get stronger, they would be billionaires. Any takers?

I might never walk upright again...and other tales

Yesterday, I decided to walk-a lot. I put my pedometer around my neck, and I walked and walked-and walked. I thought my legs were going to fall off, I walked so much. I think the orthopedic surgeon would be proud of me.

It turns out that I walked 11,500 (give or take a few) steps-only that translates to only 4 miles. Four miles!! Two and a bit hours (not all at once). Was it worth it?

Well, if I keep doing the torture every other day (I need to recover on the other days!), I should be at least a little stronger by the time they decide to fix my knee. Either that or I will be extremely short, and possibly dead from the exertion.

I decided mid-hill (I do my best thinking when I am trying to breathe and climbing a huge hill at the same time) that I would change the ring on my phone. And this all came about because I decided that it's time to change my life, to shake things up a little, and to absolutely refuse to waste any time thinking about the past-and to refuse to spend any more time with people who are also useless-and boring.

So my phone doesn't ring: it barks. Really-I trolled through all the ring tones-mine was formerly a boing- and decided on a bark. Now it sounds like there is a barking dog on my chest (I carry my phone in a phone pouch when I'm out and about, so don't get too nervous about me hiding an animal in my coat!! LOL!!!).

I'm slowly beginning to return to the exercises I stopped doing several months ago. I think I probably gave up then-because I was that down, and I was beginning to think I'd hit my limit.

Not so. While I was doing my route march yesterday, I held my stick off the ground, and I started looking to the right and then left, and up and then down-all the things I was doing when I was stuck in the house for two years. And I realized that things are a bit easier. I'm not falling over so often, and I can catch myself (usually) before I smack into something (like, for instance, a wall).

I'm on the mend, and it has taken two years and seven months to reach this point. It has been very difficult, and has really challenged my patience (which, as we all know, is nonexistent!!).

If I get bored, I can always call my mobile and listen to my phone bark. What the heck-I absolutely need to get out more!!!!!

On self-congratulations

Ah, what a time it has been. I decided that I have to walk more-and exercise more-and do it consistently, because I'm now just awaiting a surgery date. So I will be on crutches, with no balance system, and that will be amusing-to someone, at least. I need to be strong enough to keep myself from falling over. And-I'm feeling the pressure!

So-I walked and walked on Sunday, and I have my trusty pedometer app-I do mean, I walked. Everywhere. And at the end of it all, I only walked 9,945 steps. I don't know what that is in miles, but I was knackered at the end of the day, and had to just sit down and have a bit of a rest. Eeek-what an ordeal!

I now have decided that, since it was so difficult on Sunday, I will need to repeat the exercise as often as I can. So-yesterday I did it all again. And this time I walked for 10,330 steps. I thought I was about to expire! Out of shape, or what? I just need to keep going. By the time I go into the hospital for my knee repair, I will be very strong, and muscular, and I will have a stronger cardiovascular system. Either that or I will need CPR. By the time I go into Stanmore, I will need the rest!!

Thank goodness the academy awards ceremony is finished. I didn't watch it-I never do. The sight of all these rich people giving each other awards, and congratulating themselves (and each other), and practically crawling up everyone's backside-ewww, it makes me want to vomit. Really-first it was the Oscars. Then it was the poor man's Oscars-the Baftas. And the Emmys, and the Tonys, and the soap awards, and all the stepchildren of the original awards-because, after all, everyone needs to be so nauseatingly false, and self-congratulatory, and sickeningly phony-and most of the time, I would probably disagree with the winner anyway. These guys spend so much time crawling up everyone else's asses, it's a wonder they have time to make movies (or television, or theatre, or music).

I congratulate myself, too-but I do that when I achieve something really special-like walking 10,300 steps without falling in front of moving traffic. And speaking of walking-it's time to at least match my 10,300. I will keep you informed-as I try not to keel over from exhaustion.

And a few things I forgot-again

I meant to add a few things to the deal breaker list: people who are psychotic, psychopathic, deeply insecure, completely stupid, incredibly boring-and, obviously, those who are completely insane-oh, yes, and those who are grade A, blue ribbon, card carrying, award winning, irredeemable wankers.

That about covers it, I think. I would have added "short"- but some of the best people I know are short. I didn't say attractive; I said short. I'm 5'3" - so figure that one out!! LOL!!

I have a recurrent dream about buying a house. It is surrounded by a very high wall, has a moat and a drawbridge-and is in the middle of nowhere. I told this to someone in my meditation group, and two people immediately said they want to come and visit, probably permanently. So that says a lot about the way people here feel about each other.

Just for the record: at home, people complain about the cost of gas-and rightly so, it is ridiculously expensive. But here-if you want to go put gas in your car, you will pay $15 per gallon. That is what I said: $15 per gallon!! No wonder everyone I know wants to emigrate!! Of  course, that would be everyone except the people from Essex, where the favorite pastime is inbreeding.

We are expecting more snow, so I am gearing up for it. I think I will go out and walk anyway. I'm awaiting a knee surgery date, and that won't be long now. So I have to really get as strong as I can. Muscles like a sparrow's kneecaps won't exactly cut it!

I have to say that, in two years and seven months, I have learned the difference between acceptance and resignation. It's been really difficult-and there are things I need to accept if I am going to move forward. One of these is: never trust a doctor. Another is: never trust a lawyer. And another: the more people I meet-or, rather, duck as many are so totally braindead they expect me to sprint out of their way-the more I love animals (the four footed variety).

Give me a dog any day. In fact, a chimp would be a good companion. They are so much smarter than some of us!!