Sleepless nights and a man called Jack........

went to the George Eliot hospital for what seemed like a routine course of antibiotics and was given enemas on two separate days. I went in on Friday and didn’t sleep until Sunday at 9 pm. I was on the edge of a nervous breakdown. I just want to thank the nhs for the excellent service they provided. I won’t be going back there again. I think i might be damaged more than anyone will ever know. They provided a doctor (all i can say is that he wore a stethoscope) who played down my complaints of mental abuse but at least they got me home safe during a ‘ghost’ ride theme. They’re great people. Not.
The man they all do things for is someone called Jack. How anybody can get so many people to do so many things for him is amazing.

He ran the show. They had a couple of people they used to try and wear me down. One was called John, and the other was an Indian woman whose name i don’t quite recall. They were aggressive in the things they said to me. It was not a case of one being horrible. They both were. They had a trick where they could make the call-aid buzzer go off. I was getting highly strung by it. I don’t why they targeted me. At night, i was trying to make my hands draw blood. Anything to stay awake. I knew that if i fell asleep they would take control of the situation.

This may sound like a fantasy. I assure you, it was not. It was the scariest situation i had ever known in my life. I wanted to come home, somewhere i knew it was safe for me to be. A lack of sleep and a feeling of being scared pushed my anxieties to new limits. I had a story to tell, but who would believe me? Jack owned a massive house, there were cameras to various rooms. Some even showed what was happening outside. He lived there with his wife. There was nothing about him that was out of the ordinary. Except of course he had a mean streak. His was the kind of personality that would order people to be executed, especially during world war two. And people would do it just to win his approval.

i know that i haven’t been right for days now. The lack of sleep does that to your mind and you can’t fight it, but things hopefully will improve, they won’t for Jack, he’s 93. At least he won’t be around for much longer. Why he chose me to pick on, i have no idea. I’m just glad i lived to tell the tale. I’m home now and they can’t touch me. Eventually, i will get better. A lack of sleep is where it all begins. When i got home last night i knew i had a lucky escape. Given different cicumstances it could have been a different story. I only hope someone dobs him in it, but i doubt it.

Fishing and what it can do for you....

I wish i’d learnt how to fish all those years ago. I think i would have enjoyed it far more than i enjoyed kicking a football around. My grandad was a keen fisherman, back in the day. I always thought that there must have been something more satisfying than kicking a football like you do. Such as dipping your rod and waiting to see what you’d caught, having spent hours in thinking what it could be. To a lot of people it’s a pointless exercise but there are worse things you could do; you could watch grown men chase after a ball. Now, that’s pointless.

M.J. Ryan, the author of “The Power of Patience,” explains that learning patience benefits health. Impatience causes stress, weakening your immune system and raising your blood pressure. Patience, meanwhile, makes you calmer and more content.
That’s what it is. Your mind feels better as you slow down and you see the importance of patience. Being as disabled as i am i’m no longer able to go fishing - not that i ever did - but i wish i could. These days the nearest i get to peace and quiet is when i’m reading a book.

Reading a book is something that my mates Chris and Ian can both do. They still prefer to fish though. It must be an open air thing. The fresh breeze on their faces; eating outdoors. I remember what that’s like. I haven’t been in this wheelchair that long that i can’t remember how good it is to be without it. I’ve been wheelchair-bound for over five years now, but i still long for the days when i could’ve gone fishing. If i could do it all again, i’d be an expert angler and maybe i’d open an angling shop too.

Looking back to how you’d wished it could have been different is like wishing you could have had a twelve inch penis - it just aint gonna happen. There’s dreaming about what a great fisherman you’d be and there’s a little thing called reality. The best fishermen are those who have it in their blood and who are doing it on a daily basis. You have to start young at this game; to some people it’s just a way of life.
i still wished i’d done it when i was younger. Maybe i wouldn’t have been disabled; it was a different way of life. It gave you a discipline to follow and is a good way of life. Following football, on the other hand, isn’t.

Why caffeine should be avoided like a tackle from Simeone...

They say that being a nightowl is no good for you. I agree with that. Caffeine is the biggest cause of that, as we know, and can cause many a sleepless night. It can be found in tea and coffee. It’s also found in decaff. It’s a good job then that drinking nothing but water is all i ever do. And, although i couldn’t stay awake all-night reading Steven Gerrard’s autobiography like i used to, i do feel a lot better for it. They never warned us that the amount of coffee i was drinking could damage my liver to the extent that i’d end up needing a replacement.

They give people the right to choose whether they smoke or not, even if the resident in question is smoking himself to death. I often dread hearing the news about the resident when we always knew that something, which stares us in the face, could have been done to save his bacon.
I have to drink at least six litres of fluid per day. If i don’t, my urine turns a bright orange in colour and i face a lengthy spell in hospital. The worst thing that could happen is that i get a water infection and nothing works like it should do.

Being disabled is like the way David Beckham felt that day when Diego Simeone took him out from behind. Beckham was sent off for doing nothing and should have chinned the bastard as he lelt the field. He had every right to do so. That’s what being disabled is like.
Drinking caffeine is something you can really do without when you’re disabled. It does me no good. It tastes good when you have it, but you wonder why you ever bothered drinking it in the first place.

Drinking water will bore the pants off you after a while but you don’t have much choice when it comes down to it. At least you get a decent night’s sleep. Surveys have shown that it’s a healthier way of living. Living the llfe of a night owl is not the way to be. I’ve read books too late at nights and have ducked my way out of sleeping when i shouldn’t have. The trouble is you can’t stay awake and in the end you’re asleep during lunchtime or when you don’t want to be. It really messes your life up when you least want it to.

The perfect hero and villain all wrapped up in one....

Every now and then along comes a person we can all describe as being legendary in her own lunchtime. To say she’s anything less than a superstar is like swearing at the queen (in person) or like slapping Madonna across the face and angrily calling her a cow with no talent. I wouldn’t do it and neither would you, but i share a house with a resident who probably would. Actually, she’d more than likely dribble a bit more than she already does, playfully roll onto her back and say: ”she’s worth how much ...?”

Anyone would think i don’t like her, and they’d be right. Why they are getting me to write this is because the person who is meant to write this is washing their hair. I can’t deny that she’s a living legend, though. It’s not so much what she says but what she does that gets on my nerves. And they both have an effect on my life. Her ‘mate’ is left where it can cause anyone (me) the most difficulty. What i mean by a mate is the contraption she uses to help her walk around. Why they call it her ‘mate’ makes me wonder why they call it that at all. She doesn’t have any mates for god’s sake!

Every day, she wanders the corridors, not stopping until whe finds that penny. It’s a penny that she must have dropped fifteen years ago. She’ll find it just as long as she keeps looking for it. I presume that’s what she’s looking for. There’s nothing wrong with her mind, but she has trouble making herself be understood. A bit like me really. She can walk. It must be a great feeling to be able to do that. And then she calls out loud like she expects you to drop everything for her. If THAT doesn’t make you a legend then i don’t know what does.

But what really clinches the deal for me is when she sings like a bag of spanners would sing if it could. she has no shame and she doesn’t think she should have. The song playing in the background is on at full blast. No-one sings quite like her but there again no-one would ever admit to it if they ever could. A heavy, laboured breathing sound tells you when she gets near. Can you really decribe her as a hero? Yes, because she keeps on going no matter how hard it gets. A perfect example of the way i have to be.

Blind date....

I’m okay now, but when i think of how i used to be, i’m gutted at the changes that i’ve had to endure. I should have got married years ago. i know that, now. It’s the best thing that i’ve ever done and when i did actually get hitched i honestly thought that making good decisions was something i was incapable of doing.
Contestant number one came out and smiled at me like he’d won a prize. He went outside and smoked his treasured cigarette. He came back 5 minutes later and, like a Zombie on steroids, he fumbled his way back to his seat. A journey that should have taken 20 seconds, took about 3 minutes. I swear that his eyes were like a kaleidoscope. All he kept saying was yeah man.

Contestant number two came on. He was so desperate for a fag that he didn’t think it was wrong to go barefooted, wearing just a pair of underpants. It was pouring with rain outside. They asked him to wear some clothes. So he did. He could smoke fags for England. So he did. Scotland too.
Contestant number three had such a bad cough he was compared to the noise an aircraft makes when it is taking off and landing. So realistic are the noises he does he’s looking at signing a recording contract with British Airways in the near future. Birdlife in the area he lives in are putting their lives in peril if they come within spitting distance of him.

i don’t know why, but i used to watch blind date. It was good when it first came on. I thought it was a programme about two blind people who went on a date. That’s why i first watched it. I was disappointed to find out it wasn’t.

It would have been a lot more interesting if everybody was blind. I suppose they’d be bumping into stage props if they were.

I got mentioned this week when someone said how they were like me because they were a reader of good books. “Thats true to some extent”, i said “but the books i read don’t need colouring crayons to read them.” Actually, i didn’t say that because i have trouble with speaking. I thought it instead. When you have to rely on speech to get your point across it’s a pain in the ass because you can never think of the right words to say. Thinking about it means you can chuckle to yourself when he wonders why you are laughing about it.

When you can’t talk properly it feels as if you’re the odd one out. It’s not a nice feeling to have. You soon get used to it, though.

Dark days ahead....

There’s nothing that can stop me feeling this way. The last thing you want to do is to see my sorry face staring back at you. I don’t need the company right now so please don’t be offended if i leave you to it. Then she says “okay, if you insist” Well i DO insist. There’s absolutely nothing you can say to make me change my mind right now. I know there’s something wrong with me. I just don’t know how to fix it. Finding the solution to life’s little problems is not what i’m about. If only it was as simple as that.

i turn to look to where she is. “Hi.” She says. “Hi, are you still here..?” I reply, sarcastically and lost in thought. My right hand holds open the door whilst my left foot gently nudges her outside. “Good night” i whisper, and out she goes. Beads of sweat trickle down my forehead and i get no satisfaction from giving her the heave ho. She isn’t the problem. I am. I’ve always admitted it. I can’t be doing with somebody else’s baggage when i already have enough of my own to deal with.

I take a look in the mirror and i’m not pleased with what i see. Too many years of fighting lost causes are etched into that face. Too many for my liking. I don’t like what i see. The endless hours of struggle have left me feeling that life is something a younger person can deal with better than i can. They’re supposed to be in love but how can they know what love is? I wipe my face with the towel on the draining board. I didn’t want any children in case it was passed on to them. This curse that i have.

It didn’t do me much good though. I didn’t see it coming. If only i had i could have done something about it then. There’s always something happening. Something which you can’t control, but wish you could. Maybe i should have married someone just like me. But relationships don’t always happen like that do they? My experience with meeting women has been influenced by my mood and usually ends up over before its begun.

“Lucky to be alive”

I’ve heard the expression “lucky to be alive” lots of times and wondered how anyone would know what it meant unless they’d experienced death?
Is death so bad that you’re lucky to be alive then?
I’ve seen video clips of people who’ve come back to life after dying and they didn’t say they were terrified by the experience. The term “lucky to be alive” seems to be an odd one, then. Dying is not something you really want to happen to anyone at any time, though.

I was “lucky to be alive” when once, without looking, i ran into the path of an oncoming bus which missed me by a small margin. I was only a kid at the time but it shook me up nonetheless. I remember watching the tv when Ayrton Senna hit a wall when he was racing. Unfortunately, he wasn’t so “lucky to be alive” that day. As i sit here in a wheelchair, being “lucky to be alive” is the last thing i think about. It certainly doesn’t feel like i’m “lucky to be alive”. at the moment.

it’s funny how the saying “lucky to be alive” doesn’t really concern anyone i know. It doesn’t stop them from thinking it, though. The term “lucky to be alive” should be used when you win the National Lottery because only then do you really know you’re “lucky to be alive”. When you’re stuck in a wheelchair being kept alive just so the bigwigs can feel good about themselves do you question the decision to keep you alive. When you have a meal given the ok by SALT you don’t feel “lucky to be alive”. Just the opposite.

The term “lucky to be alive” can mean a lot of things to a lot of different people and should only be used when appropriate. If you say it to the wrong people you might get a very different reaction because, to them, being alive is not very lucky. You can be okay one minute and not the next. and being given the choice to decide for yourself is paramount. Dr David Goodall, an Australian, reached the age of 104 and decided that, for him, enough was enough. He ended it all. The choice to finish it all was his. He didn’t feel that just being alive was very “lucky”.

Do you think you’ll ever become prime minister?

Even though i’m disabled on the outside, on the inside i’m still the same person i used to be. Nothing has changed, only your perception of me has. It’s so frustrating to realise that, once upon a time, i wasn’t like this and i made decisions that counted. The only thing that’s changed is that these days i use a wheelchair. There’s no going back to how i used to be. This is it how it is now. My life has finished. It doesn’t matter how many times you say it hasn’t, it has.

Being stuck in a wheelchair is not how i thought it would end. Yes, i know it could happen to anyone. I’m not really in the mood to talk about it. Now, or ever.
The home i live in is home to seventeen people. They all have a neurological disorder which prevents them from living on their own. It’s not the best situation there is, but you have to make do. Everybody has their own room which comes with their own bathroom too. Places like this really do exist.

inside the home there is our version of what a Tourettes sufferer would sound like if he was disabled.
First of all he tells the carers to f*** off and then he asks everyone if they are married. The number of times that i’ve heard someone asked “are you married?” is in triple figures. At least!
The number of visitors i get can be described as plenty. This is a figure that will change with time, though. One thing that never ceases to wind me up is the way they have taken some of my rights away from me. They’ve even convinced every court that they are right to do so. I just think i’ve been cheated out of something that is rightfully mine to have.

I don’t know what the future holds for me. It’s not even me that i’m concerned about. I lost that battle when i lost the ability to walk. Having the stroke was something that changed my life forever. Nothing else could make it worse. But in the course of the next five years anything could happen. When it comes to being confined to a wheelchair then nothing will ever change that. That’s a cast iron guarantee. Will i still be writing crappy posts like this one? Probably not but you never know....

The ‘Mac’ is back. Funny thing is I didn’t know he’d gone away....

Today has been one of one of those days that you just don’t forget (as far as the weather is concerned). Although i’m not a big tennis fan, i do remember that day back in 1980 when John Mcenroe and Bjorn Borg battled it out to see who the best tennis player in the world was. It was a similar kind of day to today. But when it came to who had the silliest haircut i think Mcenroe would have have won it by a country mile. Mcenroe was a 21-year old American, famous for his tantrums, and Borg was a 24-year old Swede who kept his emotions to himself. Both were very talented at this thing they called ‘tennis’.

It was great to watch them play each other and you can understand why it is that people get so worked up about the game. To say that is a bit of an understatement, though. They are obsessed.
Borg won the match in 1980 but Mcenroe met him in the final the next year and won. I’m sure that people will keep on comparing them to the modern-day players such as Pete Sampras and Roger Federer. I think it’s impossible to say who would have won had their swords crossed but i like to think the greats of today were inspired by the superb way that Borg and Mcenroe played the game.

Sunburnt and telling your mates......

Many people out there love the sun. I’m not one of them, never have been, nor will i ever be. There are too many things you can enjoy in life without being basted like an oven-done turkey or grilled like a sausage you’ve just put on a home-made barbeque. It’s not a good image to have at the best of times and we’re just not made to look like that. Sorry, but trying to look like a Bulgarian weightlifter is not my thing no matter how many women may find it appealing.

what is appealing to me, on a hot summer’s day, is enjoying a nicely prepared salad in a cool and shaded area, overlooking the sea, with yachts and seagulls, doing what it is that seagulls do the best, in the distance. Somewhere where the overpowering heat of the sun is at its coolest is what i prefer the most. It isn’t everybody’s idea of what paradise should be like, but it IS mine. You’ve got your own idea of what it should be like. and I get that. if it doesn’t involve eating though, you can count me out. I should be on my second ham sandwich as you read this.

The best thing about being a sun hater is, that you don’t have to travel miles to get what you want. You really don’t. If the weather is windy, you won’t even have to fight off competition to get to the bar. It gets better. You can actually play bingo and enjoy some haute cuisine afterwards (faggots and mushy peas to you and me). When the sun comes out, which it will do, do not panic. Think of what it was like to have a deserted beach. Breathe in and remember the good times. Thank goodness you didn’t waste all of that money when you didn’t have to.

Just think of the positives; you haven’t had to learn to speak a foreign language which you’ll probably never use again; the fish and chips over there don’t taste like what they ought to; and the birds over there (let’s face it) are batting way out of your league. You hate to admit it but know it’s true. You’ll get pissed and sleep it off under a really hot sun, your back will be sunburnt and you can spend all summer telling your mates about it.

There is no rhyme or reason....

Anthony is my cousin. I’ve written to him every month for a year. He’s in prison and cannot write as often as i can. I don’t know if he even reads the letters i write to him, i just assume that he does.
i write about anything that comes into my head. There’s plenty of stuff there, then.
it’s quite a frightening place to be. it scares the shit out of me sometimes and It’s not something i’m proud of.
it all started when i was quite young and has been with me ever since. I don’t crave death but i don’t see the point of living, either.

i don’t know how many people are affected by it; i don’t care. Every now and then the person you least expect to will take his (or her) own life. There is no rhyme or reason to it. It just happens. Another statistic that no-one will ever know about. I was once stuck in a hospital closet shouting for help that never came. I sent my wife a text to let her know i needed help. Without the phone i’d probably still be there now. What was left of me. I was disabled and really thought that this was the end! Being able to choose how you go is very important too.
, ,
When you feel that being here is the worst thing you’ve ever done and that people would be better off without you can be how it starts. Once you begin to feel like that, there is nothing you can do to justify living. Life goes on but you live it out in slow motion. Your life needs a reason to live and getting a pet dog gives you all the reason you need. Don’t ever understimate the role a relationship between a pet and its owner. Even though they speak a different language, they have a strong bond together. As Shakespeare once said: “there are more things in Heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

A man, or woman, that doesn’t have thoughts of self-destruction at any given time is a lucky man/woman and I’d gladly swap places with him/her. My disability hinders me somewhat but there’s always a way. I just haven’t found it yet. Or maybe i have.

What doesn’t look like a potato but is still called a potato....?

The care home that i live in is full of people who can think for themselves and there are those who cannot. This is just a rough explanation of what goes on when you live here. When the people who cannot think, say stuff like “what am i doing here?”, you can only thank God you’re not like them. At least they can walk, which is one thing i can’t do, but wish i could.
The whole place here is run by an an organisation called SALT. Nobody has ever seen them but we all know they exist. SALT stands for Speech And Language Therapy. They don’t actually represent speech and language therapy, but they should. According to them, everybody here has a 0% mental capacity. Hang on a secord. That’s the same as comparing them to a potato, then.

That isn’t a very fair comparison to make. Potatoes can be useful. SALT on the other hand, cannot.
I really shouldn’t go on about them like this. It’s not fair and there are more important things to write about. For intance i saw my wife today. She’s coming up tomorrow as well. It’ll give her a sense of self-importance to read about herself like this. I can guarantee what she’ll say when she sees me: ‘Are you writing about SALT again?’ I’ll bet on it. I’ve had quite a day today. I’ve been to the doctor’s and, like i explain to everyone, i’m a disabled man who can’t speak. It’s a very lonely life. I can express myself on here. That’s about it.

Things just changed overnight for me. Anybody who is put in my place would tell you how tough it is but you just have to get on with it. That’s easier said than done. Not everybody can live in a world of assumption rather than a world where proof of guilt is the norm. It’s hard to do. When you can’t talk it’s impossible. As far as i’m concerned assumption is the mother of all fuck ups. I can’t eat white bread because if i do i will fall asleep, choke and die. That’s the assumption. The fact is that in over five years of eating toast i’ve never fallen asleep. They don’t rely on fact. They rely on assumption.

Like SALT’s guidbook of ‘how to deal with everyone’ Nobody is given a chance. Everybody is treated like a potato. We don’t look like one but we get treated like one. That’s the harsh reality we face. Potatoes are useful. They can be mashed, boiled in water, roasted, baked or made into chips. SALT, on the otherhand, are not useful

Roll up - you can have a water infection too.....

Over the past few days i’ve felt completely incapacitated. That’s unusual for me. I didn’t know what would happen and when it did i felt as though my whole world was caving in on me. There was nothing i could do except feebly cry for help. I think all carers should be trained to look out for the tell-tale signs that can happen. Only then will they know how to react so they try to avert a disaster in the making. I had a water infection and was put into bed. Once there i slept and slept. A similar sort of thing had heppened to me the year before. The doctors had seen it all, knew what to expect and i was given a course of antibiotics, which ultimately played a big part in saving my life.

i remembered thinking what the hell is happening to me? It was something very bad. I couldn’t even lift the fork to my mouth. Now, for a greedy guts like me, that IS bad. In fact, things got so bad i couldn’t use my ipad. I need to drink plenty of water to get well again. There are plenty of residents here that don’t have mental capacity and i’m not part of that number.. SALT want me to believe in them just like Hitler wanted the German public to believe in him. That’ll never happen.

I need to drink plenty of water just to be able to drive my chair properly. Driving it has been a nightmare recently. The amount of crashes i’ve had lately has been horrific. The best way of describing it is if i was on heroin. I never touch the stuff. Really.
Water infections are a serious business and can lead to a long time in hospital. The affect they had on me is something i don’t ever want to happen to me again.

I never had an infection until i became disabled. I think it’s confined to me. as much as i hate to say so because other residents don’t seem to drink as much as i do. If that’s the case i’m disappointed by this
Illness because i don’t seem to be able to do anything right.

Testing

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