I have had a poor few months, i think all would agree that is putting it mildly.
Well, you work through it, in little ways.
I put no radio on nor tv. I slept a good bit, until dinner time at least and then drove to the Vico Road. Oh my, it was beautiful. Damp, slightly colder than anticipated, and no gloves as i used them to cover the camera lens. it had begun to rain.
my little trotters were left off the lead and were on a heavenly stroll. I think Ana is either getting old or is just a trotter's age, i do not know. she pads along behind and a year ago she would be the one to watch as she legged it off.
Maggie is a tyrant, a brute of a tyrant, a strutter and trotter with attitude. A brat!
a lovely comical brat, 'you get back here,' has no effect whatsoever.
a walking club walked by and one woman came to a full stop, the rest walked on. down on her honkers she picked up maggie, she was overcome, i actually never have seen that. she told me she lived in an apartment and couldnt have pets. after a gentle squeeze and a cheek to cheek with the winner smiler and furry softness she took a picture of them both, and it was BAD, maggie and Ana had not been out yesterday so posers they were not.
we resumed.
maggie i think scented a rabbit for she went a bit wild and dying to dive into the bracken. with amazing accuracy i stabbed the loop of the end of the lead with the stick. she was stabbed curtailed. Looking back at me with a 'how dare you,' and also 'what the h...?'
those big brown eyes, the fan like tail, the speckled dusty chin, she'd melt ya.
i hardly made it to the van. I wasn't well, we only walked around in a small loop but what do shorties need and what do the big longgie need when her legs are agony.
back in the van i sat, supped a fortisip, to fortify me on my journey home.
as i was coming near Cunningham road, in the rain and cold i saw a very old man with a stick.
I stopped the van. "would you like a lift?"
he was happy and relieved.
On went the hazard lights, I helped him in, tied him in and left him home, it was a bloody long way, 'did this geezer have altzeimers or what?'
He was surely not going to make it that far home i felt.
it was far too long for him.
he said he did it often.
with a salute and a smile i was happy leaving him and he said he would keep me in his prayers. He did not know anything about me, but i will be prayed for which can only be good, i turned back then and went on my own familiar route.
back to bed. and more sleep.
i mess a lot on the laptop now, flitting to and fro from facebook to different informative sites etc.
time passed.
I went to woodies to buy birdseed, i worn my brown felt hat and brown jumper. I like the combo, the hat is in the style of the 30's and i adore it, it does i think look odd and i felt some stares. i took it off. others have said it is gorgeous.
seed was so expensive, i didn't quite get what i wanted.
to cut a long story short, evening came 9pm. i got out of bed and for some reason decided to refill the bird seed feeders.
into the yard then, oh i just adore the air, the sky, the clouds and the sliver of a quarter moon look down on me. the gentleness and the cool. before i know it i was up on the raised beds in my slippers. i stood there looking over roof tops, its a sense of something else. not the area, not the yard, the other side i guess, something in the air of what i will meet forever, god willing.
I slowly filled and put the feeders back, my brain fog is bad and so is the co-ordination but i took it slow.
I then watered the cuttings in the cold frame and shed.
that once served as an office, so i sat on the swivvel leather, i sniffed decay and i felt a safety cocoon surround me, first inside the three shed timber walls and then in a type of musty webs of serenity and oneness.
i never had this before, the outdoors, i left it at 18 to start the neg journey of neg life.
once inside i was muttering. "I will get my life back" I will, I certainly will.
I saw my appointment wipe board, i took a marker.
"I will get my life again.
I will find a safe home"
I will find safety and harmony and existance with my twin.
i have come to bed. Ana is on one side, just under my right elbow.
maggie mai has dug deep and disappeared in layers and folds of fluffy throws and all is silence, all is stillness.
pain and tinnitus are there, but no one can touch me in my funny little shell of perfected tranquility, i think given by the man above, indeed i do.
and my Dad has had a hand in it too. God Rest my Dad, my Ma and my sister, Louise and rest in peace.
AWNYAH TODAYSAY Ann living in the Republic of Ireland and it is not a good thing. We have now ratified the EU convention on the rights of people with disabilities, yet we failed in ratifying the optional protocol, allowing us ability to make complaints to the EU under the convention, with little facility to do so in our own country. We go unheard in every sense of the word. This is unjust and leaves us more vulnerable and open to abuses. We are suffering. I am suffering.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
40yrs after - School reunion
This was THE event i think for everyone, most tried to turn up but not everyone could make it.
I wouldn't have been the brightest of bunnies there and i was on the sofa with a pillow behind my head, my body was indeed, wracked in pain.
but I felt sitting there and watching,( for that is all i was really able to do), happy.
School was a horrible place for me. I made no friends at all. Period. That was for a number of reasons, being deaf did not help, neither did being a twin or the implied and stated "don't expect much from the twins" which was actually said to my Mother!
The nuns and the girls were never nasty, we had no bullying, it was a fair enough regime, it was far gentler than at most schools at the time.
Some young left handers had their left hand tied behind their backs and learners were made to write with the non dominant hand, you start to see something in the RC ethos here.
It wasn't so at the HCJ. Remembering it was an age of not yet enlightenment on possibilities of a young person and their mind and their feelings, it was a tolerable regime for education.
I saw the shiners there last night, so elegant, so chatty and really confident mature women.
All were easy conversationalists, all were happy to fill in the blank years with their class of 70.
I was happy enough to watch the exchange and see the women in a far easier light then through the terror of my school days.
There was the most brainiest in the class, who could converse with me with ease and i so with her. Gone was the competition and fears. so too with the other brains and most of them were.
Time has panned out all as equal.
It doesn't mean that myself as i am now can become a friend in the true sense to any of them.
I am not that easy and now with disability probably worse so. But the fright was gone.
I had spent a bad bad bad day, mostly in bed, a bad ending when i furiously spat out hurts and upset and pain, the emotional side of a young life being downgraded continually by a dysfunctional family.
I threw my two older sisters out, screaming like a banshee. Very ill and in pain in all senses, i wanted shut of hypocrisy. I cannot take that anymore.
so i went back to bed but then realised 'you were looking forward to this for months, awn'
and i was.
the clothes were ironed first thing that morning, the pictures were printed up and in a neat pile and the hockey stick of 40yrs, was worn and waiting as was the school blazer, showing signs of rigor mortis as it was stiff and dank.
I rang the taxi and shuffled the hair with gel, slapped on a bit of lipstick and bundled self off the soft warm bed and more or less straight into the taxi.
It wasnt that good to turn up first an hour early - why - I never put the clock back!!
Well, there is no need to, for time blurs with me and no structure at all and no one in particular in the life of mine, i timed time by more light and day than hours.
It was not wise to go in my boot slippers, not that they were 'out of place', which they were, but it had started to rain on the journey so by the time i got to the hall door, my feet were wet, the sleepers soggi and the tiny toes, frozen.
Yet, my friends all my cognitions have not gone astray, i had bought a second pair, for eventuality of getting too hot! so in this instance to - warm the toes up.
It was the noise, the lights (ah, had forgotten the eye shades) and pain that saw me try to sort out a way of 'disappearing' without the patronising 'fond farewell' the pain started at the beginning. I had stood up as all were, and was chatting, leaning on my stick. pain ran through my legs and i bailed out. I was suddenly screaming inside, and knew that that was defo the bad idea of the evening.
I went into the kitchen to see if i had paracetamol in my bag, i didn't.
Emer the doc came in, yes in real life a doc, and said 'you look a bit worse for wear' and i added i was, in fucking awful pain.
then the nurse came in, yes in real life she was!
Barbara, do you have any paracetamol on you. she didn't. i begged her to ask around without too much fuss.
Emer met me in the corridor and passed over disprin as if it was heroin, whilst remaining chatting to Catherine.
I laughed at that, and approved.
surprisingly, disprin worked in a remarkably short space of time.
I moved further away from the babble and heat.
i was at the far end of the foods of delight.
i watched in fascination and approval, i repeat, i was happy.
Still at the corner of the brain, i was upset at being so different and so unwell.
But far outweighing that was my ability to lose the 'fear of humans.'
some came over to chat, and it was with ease and with no condesention at all.
they are lovely women.
Now for the grand exit.
Grainne, self and Vanessa were plotting the 'slip away' in the kitchen and i rang my taxi, but then a few others came into the kitchen and i told vanessa that i should just say good bye really and do it properly.
it was natural enough, i held up the beloved hockey stick and Nicola shouted, 'you were the bain of my life on the pitch.'
Nicola reminded me that her mother had been at school with mine, that was nice actually really nice.
Barbara took a snap with me and Sheila, i always liked Sheila, everyone did, i told her i would ring.
and so the long haul exit, down the steps of the grand house in Wellington Place back to the not so grand in the 'noggin, where one is listening to drunkards and body art, well, seeing the body art, defacement.
I cried deeply into Vanessa's shoulders just before i got into the taxi. I didnt know it was going to happen.
"Oh God, Vanessa, i hate the difference, i hate being disabled and sick" i hug her close and it was good really. Vanessa is a ticket and fun and loverly.
I tried to collect myself for i saw she was upset i think. I waved a weak smile, not of pity but 'i am ok, sorry V, sorry, I am ok.
the taxi man had a downes syndrome brother. we talked about attitude etc.
i came home drained, very dejected but then again, it was all worth it. it was what i wanted to do, it was where i wanted to be, to see them all again. it could have been for the last time.
I had whipped the pic of twin and i at my twins graduation off the wall and showed everyone. they stared and looked deep into it. Everyone asked for Mags, and when i said "she's in Australia," they gasped and drew in and then out, "what?" Yes, flew away just like that!
Emer during the evening said to me, 'we didn't know Ann about your deafness and stuff, we just didn't know,' she tried to redeem my school ineptness, by saying, 'you actually could see you were not stupid,' there was a sense you were not stupid. ' I never saw that part for sure for sure!
Nonetheless, disabled or not, i saw the women of the day, good and kind, equal and i was without fears and demons on that score.
i am proud of self to go when so unwell.
I am happier for it.
Not so, the difference. the noggin and what has happened in the past year.
but something inside has healed for sure.
it must mean something when they say 'confront your fears!'
I wouldn't have been the brightest of bunnies there and i was on the sofa with a pillow behind my head, my body was indeed, wracked in pain.
but I felt sitting there and watching,( for that is all i was really able to do), happy.
School was a horrible place for me. I made no friends at all. Period. That was for a number of reasons, being deaf did not help, neither did being a twin or the implied and stated "don't expect much from the twins" which was actually said to my Mother!
The nuns and the girls were never nasty, we had no bullying, it was a fair enough regime, it was far gentler than at most schools at the time.
Some young left handers had their left hand tied behind their backs and learners were made to write with the non dominant hand, you start to see something in the RC ethos here.
It wasn't so at the HCJ. Remembering it was an age of not yet enlightenment on possibilities of a young person and their mind and their feelings, it was a tolerable regime for education.
I saw the shiners there last night, so elegant, so chatty and really confident mature women.
All were easy conversationalists, all were happy to fill in the blank years with their class of 70.
I was happy enough to watch the exchange and see the women in a far easier light then through the terror of my school days.
There was the most brainiest in the class, who could converse with me with ease and i so with her. Gone was the competition and fears. so too with the other brains and most of them were.
Time has panned out all as equal.
It doesn't mean that myself as i am now can become a friend in the true sense to any of them.
I am not that easy and now with disability probably worse so. But the fright was gone.
I had spent a bad bad bad day, mostly in bed, a bad ending when i furiously spat out hurts and upset and pain, the emotional side of a young life being downgraded continually by a dysfunctional family.
I threw my two older sisters out, screaming like a banshee. Very ill and in pain in all senses, i wanted shut of hypocrisy. I cannot take that anymore.
so i went back to bed but then realised 'you were looking forward to this for months, awn'
and i was.
the clothes were ironed first thing that morning, the pictures were printed up and in a neat pile and the hockey stick of 40yrs, was worn and waiting as was the school blazer, showing signs of rigor mortis as it was stiff and dank.
I rang the taxi and shuffled the hair with gel, slapped on a bit of lipstick and bundled self off the soft warm bed and more or less straight into the taxi.
It wasnt that good to turn up first an hour early - why - I never put the clock back!!
Well, there is no need to, for time blurs with me and no structure at all and no one in particular in the life of mine, i timed time by more light and day than hours.
It was not wise to go in my boot slippers, not that they were 'out of place', which they were, but it had started to rain on the journey so by the time i got to the hall door, my feet were wet, the sleepers soggi and the tiny toes, frozen.
Yet, my friends all my cognitions have not gone astray, i had bought a second pair, for eventuality of getting too hot! so in this instance to - warm the toes up.
It was the noise, the lights (ah, had forgotten the eye shades) and pain that saw me try to sort out a way of 'disappearing' without the patronising 'fond farewell' the pain started at the beginning. I had stood up as all were, and was chatting, leaning on my stick. pain ran through my legs and i bailed out. I was suddenly screaming inside, and knew that that was defo the bad idea of the evening.
I went into the kitchen to see if i had paracetamol in my bag, i didn't.
Emer the doc came in, yes in real life a doc, and said 'you look a bit worse for wear' and i added i was, in fucking awful pain.
then the nurse came in, yes in real life she was!
Barbara, do you have any paracetamol on you. she didn't. i begged her to ask around without too much fuss.
Emer met me in the corridor and passed over disprin as if it was heroin, whilst remaining chatting to Catherine.
I laughed at that, and approved.
surprisingly, disprin worked in a remarkably short space of time.
I moved further away from the babble and heat.
i was at the far end of the foods of delight.
i watched in fascination and approval, i repeat, i was happy.
Still at the corner of the brain, i was upset at being so different and so unwell.
But far outweighing that was my ability to lose the 'fear of humans.'
some came over to chat, and it was with ease and with no condesention at all.
they are lovely women.
Now for the grand exit.
Grainne, self and Vanessa were plotting the 'slip away' in the kitchen and i rang my taxi, but then a few others came into the kitchen and i told vanessa that i should just say good bye really and do it properly.
it was natural enough, i held up the beloved hockey stick and Nicola shouted, 'you were the bain of my life on the pitch.'
Nicola reminded me that her mother had been at school with mine, that was nice actually really nice.
Barbara took a snap with me and Sheila, i always liked Sheila, everyone did, i told her i would ring.
and so the long haul exit, down the steps of the grand house in Wellington Place back to the not so grand in the 'noggin, where one is listening to drunkards and body art, well, seeing the body art, defacement.
I cried deeply into Vanessa's shoulders just before i got into the taxi. I didnt know it was going to happen.
"Oh God, Vanessa, i hate the difference, i hate being disabled and sick" i hug her close and it was good really. Vanessa is a ticket and fun and loverly.
I tried to collect myself for i saw she was upset i think. I waved a weak smile, not of pity but 'i am ok, sorry V, sorry, I am ok.
the taxi man had a downes syndrome brother. we talked about attitude etc.
i came home drained, very dejected but then again, it was all worth it. it was what i wanted to do, it was where i wanted to be, to see them all again. it could have been for the last time.
I had whipped the pic of twin and i at my twins graduation off the wall and showed everyone. they stared and looked deep into it. Everyone asked for Mags, and when i said "she's in Australia," they gasped and drew in and then out, "what?" Yes, flew away just like that!
Emer during the evening said to me, 'we didn't know Ann about your deafness and stuff, we just didn't know,' she tried to redeem my school ineptness, by saying, 'you actually could see you were not stupid,' there was a sense you were not stupid. ' I never saw that part for sure for sure!
Nonetheless, disabled or not, i saw the women of the day, good and kind, equal and i was without fears and demons on that score.
i am proud of self to go when so unwell.
I am happier for it.
Not so, the difference. the noggin and what has happened in the past year.
but something inside has healed for sure.
it must mean something when they say 'confront your fears!'
Friday, November 12, 2010
End of Life Years
One has to be VERY realistic what you can and cannot do in a situation where there is no way out, or even around. That is getting older...and sicker...and possibly more disabled....this is a personal review, but i feel worth it for general pilates/meditaton/tai chi 'think'
I can see, i can hear, its crisp out there, cold out there. the wind has flattened some parts of my garden, parts are still standing.
a few plants are not their best and others are holding their own and the rest are...dead....or dying.
the dunnock will be the first on the bird table ah..I have just looked out! yep there he is, he is a cute guy. then will come the house sparrows, they flock down protection in numbers, amidst that the few pigeons still holding up, (on the roof) will try and disrupt and even destroy their brothers.
And also from my winder the laughing buddha on his plinth is doing just that, laughing, he laughs a lot in fact all the time....he cannot do anything else.
we, or rather I have a second Buddha, he, and this one actually is a 'she' to me, even if flat chested and half bare up top, is doing the meditative bit, the other day i found a white feather in her cupped hands, it had a grey tip, yeh, pigeon, nonetheless most of it was white.
right i think you get my drift...
tis life and we are at the end of the seasons of productivity until it busts again in warmer and welcoming weathers.
So too, my productivity is winding down, and all must rest to be ready, for the warmer times, and cheerier times.
Winding down also requires Peace, peace in your brain, your body, your breathing.
Winding down requires good food in your mouth, it is THE ONLY positive action you can take for a winding down body, plus exercise.
Winding down means 'setting down' and that means for me, the telling of what it was, and always has been and presently is....a flushing out and away for posterity how ones life panned to this point, the winding down point.
Sure for some, its a cleansing and a learning experience and worth the effort.
Its a re-evaluation of the times past. 'Was i wrong about that?" "Are you sure with your feelings on all of this period?" and so on.
Most of all, it is how you experienced your existence and what you felt about being alive, half dead, or dying...most of all, was it useful, purposeful, fulfilling and most importantly, was it enjoyable. How many people did you actually HELP on their life's path?
It seems heavy stuff...for me i hope not for i want still to learn (oh, the 'Birds' is being re-enacted in the yard, the house sparrows have arrived)! I deviate, i need to learn how i am going to make it a creative and artful experience. Tie in all the bits methaphorically too, with new methods. I will have video, audio, collage, animation, word and digital art and photography.
it wont, i promise myself turn out a mismush of too many forces jarring. And that is where the learning is.
Also for my body and soul i need Peace, the one with the feather peace. The body that can still pluck the weeds away from the flowers, to create, (yes again, living is about creativity) beauty and a haven for myself a person with blood in my veins, and a haven for the peaceful, from the slow, snails, worms and slugs. to the flying, myself, the birds and all things good, (I include myself here). I too, want the elderly in their 'dying cages' to see, as i sincerely believe, you are a person with needs until you cast off the moral coil. i want peace and happiness for them and my twin....I actually think most else can sort that part for themselves, its sort of also a personal right and responsibility.
Once a person gets to at least 50 or 55 they want to let go of the angst and pain, and want more slowness and more peace.
No one needs vicious anger, angry words, threat to mind and body from other humans.
No one would wish it for others either, but many do get this sort of distress in all its forms, daily.
and some get it not only daily but even by the nature of waking up are faced with it in body, soul and mind.
When you just have had enough of your human neighbour, here not only in real terms on the side by side neighbours, but people and you have learnt, yeh, i dont think i like em much.
you have choices....well you are led to believe you have....it depends on money alot, not so much on desire or the dependency on your family, those who should join in to see that you are safe, well and happy.
YOu need to make peace, Make Peace for the peaceful, yourself to regain true sense of value, and for all you can help do the same, your good good twin. the birds, you also have a responsibility to care for the life's companions and in my case its two wee chihuahuas (right the heavies have decended, umm, more than usual actually, there are a lot of them..one sitting on the peaceful buddhas head! yeh, knew that white feather with a grey tip was surely a pigeons)
now the musing and prosaic, the kind of 'i tried to be philo and pro about the musings must have her cornflakes and banana (for the potassium)!
when you say it like that, thats the basics.
the other one is hope .... for peace...today and in the near future....just 'leave me alone, please, peace."
have a good day, twino down under, have a very good day.
I can see, i can hear, its crisp out there, cold out there. the wind has flattened some parts of my garden, parts are still standing.
a few plants are not their best and others are holding their own and the rest are...dead....or dying.
the dunnock will be the first on the bird table ah..I have just looked out! yep there he is, he is a cute guy. then will come the house sparrows, they flock down protection in numbers, amidst that the few pigeons still holding up, (on the roof) will try and disrupt and even destroy their brothers.
And also from my winder the laughing buddha on his plinth is doing just that, laughing, he laughs a lot in fact all the time....he cannot do anything else.
we, or rather I have a second Buddha, he, and this one actually is a 'she' to me, even if flat chested and half bare up top, is doing the meditative bit, the other day i found a white feather in her cupped hands, it had a grey tip, yeh, pigeon, nonetheless most of it was white.
right i think you get my drift...
tis life and we are at the end of the seasons of productivity until it busts again in warmer and welcoming weathers.
So too, my productivity is winding down, and all must rest to be ready, for the warmer times, and cheerier times.
Winding down also requires Peace, peace in your brain, your body, your breathing.
Winding down requires good food in your mouth, it is THE ONLY positive action you can take for a winding down body, plus exercise.
Winding down means 'setting down' and that means for me, the telling of what it was, and always has been and presently is....a flushing out and away for posterity how ones life panned to this point, the winding down point.
Sure for some, its a cleansing and a learning experience and worth the effort.
Its a re-evaluation of the times past. 'Was i wrong about that?" "Are you sure with your feelings on all of this period?" and so on.
Most of all, it is how you experienced your existence and what you felt about being alive, half dead, or dying...most of all, was it useful, purposeful, fulfilling and most importantly, was it enjoyable. How many people did you actually HELP on their life's path?
It seems heavy stuff...for me i hope not for i want still to learn (oh, the 'Birds' is being re-enacted in the yard, the house sparrows have arrived)! I deviate, i need to learn how i am going to make it a creative and artful experience. Tie in all the bits methaphorically too, with new methods. I will have video, audio, collage, animation, word and digital art and photography.
it wont, i promise myself turn out a mismush of too many forces jarring. And that is where the learning is.
Also for my body and soul i need Peace, the one with the feather peace. The body that can still pluck the weeds away from the flowers, to create, (yes again, living is about creativity) beauty and a haven for myself a person with blood in my veins, and a haven for the peaceful, from the slow, snails, worms and slugs. to the flying, myself, the birds and all things good, (I include myself here). I too, want the elderly in their 'dying cages' to see, as i sincerely believe, you are a person with needs until you cast off the moral coil. i want peace and happiness for them and my twin....I actually think most else can sort that part for themselves, its sort of also a personal right and responsibility.
Once a person gets to at least 50 or 55 they want to let go of the angst and pain, and want more slowness and more peace.
No one needs vicious anger, angry words, threat to mind and body from other humans.
No one would wish it for others either, but many do get this sort of distress in all its forms, daily.
and some get it not only daily but even by the nature of waking up are faced with it in body, soul and mind.
When you just have had enough of your human neighbour, here not only in real terms on the side by side neighbours, but people and you have learnt, yeh, i dont think i like em much.
you have choices....well you are led to believe you have....it depends on money alot, not so much on desire or the dependency on your family, those who should join in to see that you are safe, well and happy.
YOu need to make peace, Make Peace for the peaceful, yourself to regain true sense of value, and for all you can help do the same, your good good twin. the birds, you also have a responsibility to care for the life's companions and in my case its two wee chihuahuas (right the heavies have decended, umm, more than usual actually, there are a lot of them..one sitting on the peaceful buddhas head! yeh, knew that white feather with a grey tip was surely a pigeons)
now the musing and prosaic, the kind of 'i tried to be philo and pro about the musings must have her cornflakes and banana (for the potassium)!
when you say it like that, thats the basics.
the other one is hope .... for peace...today and in the near future....just 'leave me alone, please, peace."
have a good day, twino down under, have a very good day.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Well, hopping all over with disadvantage
Yes, like snow balls here.
Tis very interesting to see the contrast in thinking on these.
The economic crisis is a must to address.
the Crisis in abuse in all areas of social disadvantage have either been denied or argued about and fought over, who should be accountable.
Firstly we all know who is accountable in the banking system, so too, everyone knows who is accountable in the social schemes and schemings of disadvantage.
We had the fight of tigers to get a sense that someone outside of Ireland can decide that the Magdelane Women should get recognised as being let down by the state, the health boards and the civic courts and just about everyone in fact.
And they are the women and children who posed such a threat to decency and the honour of men etc.
We always got the message on this one, fear not we did, maybe the clergy and oh, the women religious who too, were saving 'honour' of the women and the men, but in the process used the 'less than honourable' as virtual in house slaves, who were passed on to more dishonorable specs of horror on our planet.
So we have sorted one thing anyway and i want the world to explode with shame, anger and social reparation for all abused in such a horrible way in these laundries.
Now we get on to my pet hate, this has to be the horror of horrors, its not that one is worse than another but this seems to be so dreadful.
I call the activities in and around the 'dying cages,' the lack of respect, honour, humanity to our frailest and most dependent of our human bretherns, again i guess, we have a spell mistake there and probably a misuse of the noun as in single and plural.
But let there be no mistake we are talking on 'plurals' here, hundreds of elderly sitting it out, at the complete and utter mercy to all and sundry while they waste away and die more of depression than anything with abuse to their person, which they cannot voice in most incidences, abuse on their intellect, they STILL have a working brain! This seems to have been forgotten along the way.
We have abuse of the worst kind, these are the elderly who were once young, your mothers, fathers and grandfathers and grandmothers.
Under the guise, of 'its best Ma' that you go and be properly cared for, these old people are literally dumped away and basically forgotten.
when the HSE deny so strongly that they have not created a misery for these people and also a misery of great uncertainty in the financial abuse areas and more, its like one more stab onto the cruelity of what one person can do to another.
It means really that the top 'brass' pleas innocence of misuse and abuse of the far more innocent in our society and go to bed after the draught of whiskey or whatever with peace in their minds and sleep the counting of sheep in the form of the euros leaping into their own off shore accounts.
many women and men are trundling off to bed in a darkened annoymous ward, thanking GOD another day over, and maybe thanking god too for the draught of the sleeping pills that will keep them quiet so as not to disturb the night staff on duty who would rather sleep than think of their charges.
I feel we have a partial response to the Cystic Fibrosis young people of Ireland. This Unit at St. Vincents is going to serve need, but there has been a proviso that it will also cater for others too, so how secure in our economic times, are the beds for the vulnerable young with a life shortening illness?
How quickly can these be allocated out to others?
IN all matters Irish and medical, it depends who is who, and what they can give, by way of economic or social status to the ones at the top.
Also like a bolt from the blue it has been discovered we have very bad governance, poor governing policies and laws and all should be reformed, monies capped but please note, the mercedes stay!
When abuses come to light and fight for the side columns of the papers for the crisis of economics are stuffing our brains with depression and stuffing ever letter space on each line of every newspaper, social depravation continues, and we all have to 'pull our weight.'
I ask the government, when there is a general election, where will all the people BE when needed to vote?
I would content, most will have emmigated, others will be in the lunatic asylum, many will be in the homes for the bewildered and many just couldnt be bothered now.
What are our choices on the ballot papers, I couldn't cope with Enda, I kinda now don't trust, Eamonn, I fear for the Socialists, Sinn Feiners, and the extreme leftists, so aint much left.
I hope to be bottled down to a quiet end decade, will pluck the weeds from the garden.
feed the birdies and the chis, hopefully stroke a black rabbit who i have given a name to already 'velveteen'
try to keep my twin happy and self of course, but i am anything but that at the moment.
but before i do this peaceful old person thingy prior to getting to the miserable 'dying cages' i have to find a roof over my head, away from the fist slingers and the underage gun yielders popping shots and lingo and more such in my face.
Peace, yeh, comes dropping slow my friend.
Ps. didnt get to my 'gang' dressed ok in the uniform and all, but the legs were very wobbly and the breathing very suspect so it was back to bed and a upset cancellation, believe it or not, they, the gang give me the greatest of pleasure, every wednesday.
and if you read this, are you ok about the design and pic change to the blog, i was BORED last night, nothing like being bored and sick and alone to go changing your face around.
Tis very interesting to see the contrast in thinking on these.
The economic crisis is a must to address.
the Crisis in abuse in all areas of social disadvantage have either been denied or argued about and fought over, who should be accountable.
Firstly we all know who is accountable in the banking system, so too, everyone knows who is accountable in the social schemes and schemings of disadvantage.
We had the fight of tigers to get a sense that someone outside of Ireland can decide that the Magdelane Women should get recognised as being let down by the state, the health boards and the civic courts and just about everyone in fact.
And they are the women and children who posed such a threat to decency and the honour of men etc.
We always got the message on this one, fear not we did, maybe the clergy and oh, the women religious who too, were saving 'honour' of the women and the men, but in the process used the 'less than honourable' as virtual in house slaves, who were passed on to more dishonorable specs of horror on our planet.
So we have sorted one thing anyway and i want the world to explode with shame, anger and social reparation for all abused in such a horrible way in these laundries.
Now we get on to my pet hate, this has to be the horror of horrors, its not that one is worse than another but this seems to be so dreadful.
I call the activities in and around the 'dying cages,' the lack of respect, honour, humanity to our frailest and most dependent of our human bretherns, again i guess, we have a spell mistake there and probably a misuse of the noun as in single and plural.
But let there be no mistake we are talking on 'plurals' here, hundreds of elderly sitting it out, at the complete and utter mercy to all and sundry while they waste away and die more of depression than anything with abuse to their person, which they cannot voice in most incidences, abuse on their intellect, they STILL have a working brain! This seems to have been forgotten along the way.
We have abuse of the worst kind, these are the elderly who were once young, your mothers, fathers and grandfathers and grandmothers.
Under the guise, of 'its best Ma' that you go and be properly cared for, these old people are literally dumped away and basically forgotten.
when the HSE deny so strongly that they have not created a misery for these people and also a misery of great uncertainty in the financial abuse areas and more, its like one more stab onto the cruelity of what one person can do to another.
It means really that the top 'brass' pleas innocence of misuse and abuse of the far more innocent in our society and go to bed after the draught of whiskey or whatever with peace in their minds and sleep the counting of sheep in the form of the euros leaping into their own off shore accounts.
many women and men are trundling off to bed in a darkened annoymous ward, thanking GOD another day over, and maybe thanking god too for the draught of the sleeping pills that will keep them quiet so as not to disturb the night staff on duty who would rather sleep than think of their charges.
I feel we have a partial response to the Cystic Fibrosis young people of Ireland. This Unit at St. Vincents is going to serve need, but there has been a proviso that it will also cater for others too, so how secure in our economic times, are the beds for the vulnerable young with a life shortening illness?
How quickly can these be allocated out to others?
IN all matters Irish and medical, it depends who is who, and what they can give, by way of economic or social status to the ones at the top.
Also like a bolt from the blue it has been discovered we have very bad governance, poor governing policies and laws and all should be reformed, monies capped but please note, the mercedes stay!
When abuses come to light and fight for the side columns of the papers for the crisis of economics are stuffing our brains with depression and stuffing ever letter space on each line of every newspaper, social depravation continues, and we all have to 'pull our weight.'
I ask the government, when there is a general election, where will all the people BE when needed to vote?
I would content, most will have emmigated, others will be in the lunatic asylum, many will be in the homes for the bewildered and many just couldnt be bothered now.
What are our choices on the ballot papers, I couldn't cope with Enda, I kinda now don't trust, Eamonn, I fear for the Socialists, Sinn Feiners, and the extreme leftists, so aint much left.
I hope to be bottled down to a quiet end decade, will pluck the weeds from the garden.
feed the birdies and the chis, hopefully stroke a black rabbit who i have given a name to already 'velveteen'
try to keep my twin happy and self of course, but i am anything but that at the moment.
but before i do this peaceful old person thingy prior to getting to the miserable 'dying cages' i have to find a roof over my head, away from the fist slingers and the underage gun yielders popping shots and lingo and more such in my face.
Peace, yeh, comes dropping slow my friend.
Ps. didnt get to my 'gang' dressed ok in the uniform and all, but the legs were very wobbly and the breathing very suspect so it was back to bed and a upset cancellation, believe it or not, they, the gang give me the greatest of pleasure, every wednesday.
and if you read this, are you ok about the design and pic change to the blog, i was BORED last night, nothing like being bored and sick and alone to go changing your face around.
According to.....
We shall come to 'According to.....' a tad bit later.
Now a very non womanly quote (but we are all pretty much aware of the status of women and other now) 'it would freeze the balls off you," meaning its turned nasty, very cold. the tender plants are now in their small secure units for a while, although one secure unit wasn't that secure as the howlers knocked it down two nights ago, what a mess!
in bare feet, i struggled to find the cuttings and remains among the mush and more of compost.
After a while i realized, thus was my enthusiasm and fears for the living babies that i have bonded well with, better than people, my tiny feet were frozen.
they got wrapped up in their woolly secure padding then.
All my babes seemed to be secure then, the chihuahuas fed, so the wild birds and last the self.
that is not a matter of bad priority in the matriarchal situation here, i cannot eat on rising, it takes a short while for the inners to wake up for the munch so they munch first.
Yesterday was a beauty, no not weather or nothing.
I had to sort the bills so it was down to the main street, i parked some way away, when the rain pours down, so do the disability blue badges hop off the pavement and slap themselves stuck against many a 'borrowed the granny today' car.
interestingly, they are providing my town with one or two extra disability bays, you have to seek out and do a rescue and you feel very grand and happy, but it seems that the more bays we get, the more disability people find them too. Well, we shall use that word losely when it comes to the blue badge scheme, we have many nanny borrowers around.
I went shopping too, this is bizarre, I have to do the shopping in a large cheaper supermarket so that my 'home help' can cook a ceoliac meal for me. It was pissing rain, i was on the mobility scooter a good distance from the shop and there i was scootering in the howlers and the pissing rain whilse a warm able bodied woman, (young) awaited the ingredients i was to supply.
the HSE taught up that brill one, to save money!
My sister rings, she the one who has shot me character to ribbons, i am in a mess already and she adds to it.
i put phone down, but am in tears, depression you know!
do the shop, scoot back to the van and on the way i meet the Manager of the Community Physiotherapy in the er, community, walking up that road to his office, with a very sick umbrella, he welcomes me and i am crying, told him 'i am fucking sick of being sick in Ireland' with their nonsensical rules to save a penny or two.
I park a bit away from the back of the van, he hands me the walking stick i have strapped to the back "i dont need that' i bark petulently, well spell it please for me!
open the van, prepare to drive it in but there was my physio clearing away the obstacles on its floor, i drive in.
In brilliant hind sight, would it not be better to use his skill in clearing obstacles within his brief of a HSE physio manager - like more than four physiotherapy bouts in five going on six years?
I also had a visit from the boat builder social worker today.
He was quite efficient, I, as onlooker felt, less pen pushing and he listened, that is a good sign i guess.
Not much offered except arranged a date to have the holey emersion removed and a new one (the third in a year) put in, they must get these things from the recycling centres!
he rang the corpo, still no move on the housing list, no units available for a person like myself. Well, we knew that!
I am still without wireless broadband, changing my provider has meant that i cannot use my 'emergency response unit' (lots of units around here), it seems i cannot use my wireless broadband either, but hope the latter is a temporary situation.
oh According to the Arts Award people I have been given a discretionary 'time out' on completing the award, well that is the jist of my belief, i will have to inquire more, but this is great news actually.
well on the worsts note possible, i have peeped the news yesterday, only a peep, our cost of borrowing has now being upped to eight percent and a pip. umm.
we aint talking about grapes here, man.
On better news, i visit my grannies and nans aplenty with maggie mai as the 'pet therapy' dog, now these are the genuine articles and i love em to bits. better spruce up and get dressed and washed, and dog alike for duty calls.
talk soon.
Now a very non womanly quote (but we are all pretty much aware of the status of women and other now) 'it would freeze the balls off you," meaning its turned nasty, very cold. the tender plants are now in their small secure units for a while, although one secure unit wasn't that secure as the howlers knocked it down two nights ago, what a mess!
in bare feet, i struggled to find the cuttings and remains among the mush and more of compost.
After a while i realized, thus was my enthusiasm and fears for the living babies that i have bonded well with, better than people, my tiny feet were frozen.
they got wrapped up in their woolly secure padding then.
All my babes seemed to be secure then, the chihuahuas fed, so the wild birds and last the self.
that is not a matter of bad priority in the matriarchal situation here, i cannot eat on rising, it takes a short while for the inners to wake up for the munch so they munch first.
Yesterday was a beauty, no not weather or nothing.
I had to sort the bills so it was down to the main street, i parked some way away, when the rain pours down, so do the disability blue badges hop off the pavement and slap themselves stuck against many a 'borrowed the granny today' car.
interestingly, they are providing my town with one or two extra disability bays, you have to seek out and do a rescue and you feel very grand and happy, but it seems that the more bays we get, the more disability people find them too. Well, we shall use that word losely when it comes to the blue badge scheme, we have many nanny borrowers around.
I went shopping too, this is bizarre, I have to do the shopping in a large cheaper supermarket so that my 'home help' can cook a ceoliac meal for me. It was pissing rain, i was on the mobility scooter a good distance from the shop and there i was scootering in the howlers and the pissing rain whilse a warm able bodied woman, (young) awaited the ingredients i was to supply.
the HSE taught up that brill one, to save money!
My sister rings, she the one who has shot me character to ribbons, i am in a mess already and she adds to it.
i put phone down, but am in tears, depression you know!
do the shop, scoot back to the van and on the way i meet the Manager of the Community Physiotherapy in the er, community, walking up that road to his office, with a very sick umbrella, he welcomes me and i am crying, told him 'i am fucking sick of being sick in Ireland' with their nonsensical rules to save a penny or two.
I park a bit away from the back of the van, he hands me the walking stick i have strapped to the back "i dont need that' i bark petulently, well spell it please for me!
open the van, prepare to drive it in but there was my physio clearing away the obstacles on its floor, i drive in.
In brilliant hind sight, would it not be better to use his skill in clearing obstacles within his brief of a HSE physio manager - like more than four physiotherapy bouts in five going on six years?
I also had a visit from the boat builder social worker today.
He was quite efficient, I, as onlooker felt, less pen pushing and he listened, that is a good sign i guess.
Not much offered except arranged a date to have the holey emersion removed and a new one (the third in a year) put in, they must get these things from the recycling centres!
he rang the corpo, still no move on the housing list, no units available for a person like myself. Well, we knew that!
I am still without wireless broadband, changing my provider has meant that i cannot use my 'emergency response unit' (lots of units around here), it seems i cannot use my wireless broadband either, but hope the latter is a temporary situation.
oh According to the Arts Award people I have been given a discretionary 'time out' on completing the award, well that is the jist of my belief, i will have to inquire more, but this is great news actually.
well on the worsts note possible, i have peeped the news yesterday, only a peep, our cost of borrowing has now being upped to eight percent and a pip. umm.
we aint talking about grapes here, man.
On better news, i visit my grannies and nans aplenty with maggie mai as the 'pet therapy' dog, now these are the genuine articles and i love em to bits. better spruce up and get dressed and washed, and dog alike for duty calls.
talk soon.
Monday, November 8, 2010
ELECTION PLEASE-to have a say who is in-out, of the HSE!
Yes, you can say I want a peoples' choice of who should stay and who should be booted out, not by proportional representation, but first past the post. We are talking HSE this time.
I worry, you see, who will elect themselves to go, and for an easy life, and those who will stay for an even easier one - with pay!
I do have ideas, there are many all across the board i would tell to go back to the skilled jobs they had before they decided, whoppsies, i better use my degree before i get much older as the day job is not producing much now.
Yes, they exist, too many. Sorry if i offend, but those whose career was a mother, or a craftsperson etc, needs to do re-training before they launch back into the workforce.
I believe little is offered in this respect. As one astute person (within the HSE) told me, "i think the inadequates are there purposely."
I would tend to agree.
You would worry, wouldn't you?
But a collective response for the citizens of ireland to put on the ballot, 'Please boot out that bloody shitzer of a consultant who is so RUDE!"
or more politely "Boot her out, what does she know about knob spoons or spinners?"
It kinda gets awkward for instance, four physiotherapy sessions in five years within the public health sector, is that an admin error, communications error, purposeful error, or bad mistake that?
Did someone forget to put the stamp on the letter, or lost the physio on the way to work?
Or, have i made a record here, certainly i have one of the musically vocal kind of a screeching nature, and a type response to discussions which were not allowed on IrishHealth.com because of fears of litigation.
I have been refused publication in our fantastic Irish Times, lettersed too, yeh, i tend to hit bones on this one certainly.
Ditto Joe Duffy and Drive time. Well the former know i am a ex psych patient and since discovering this fact i am 'off air.'
No, i didnt disgrace myself, i hit close and a lot of people don't like that much, you get zipped if you get close, litigation again, i have no doubt.
I contributed my 'expert patient' knowledge for recommendations for change in the Mental health service, which after years of Experts input, hit the deck pretty fast, indeed it never got past the off the printing deck, and indeed again very nearly never turned up in print form the day it was launched, supposedly by Ms. Mary Harney, but she didnt show, her dep did. I wasnt impressed.
the Vision in 'Vision for change" is just that, as predicted by a beautiful woman with a sad son in Dundrum Mental Crimminal Hospital whom i met at the launch.
I was very skeptical then, but many were visibly vibrant about Visions. Myself and the Beautiful elegant woman were not.
Craziness is not in my mind, but we do have a crazy country with crazy services for the ill, bewildered and disabled.
It is worrying too to find that a day centre for elderly can be 'manned' by a young boy of 16yrs., an ex psych patient (vetted by police though, so i guess i am ok there) with a tiny dog, all unqualified except for the dog i think, for a few hours.
Yes, elderly, frail and vulnerable with not a pro in sight for all that time, and no lessons in first aid, emergency call in, or out. Nothing. What do you do, sent the chihuahua to alert the reception that Mrs. K has hit the deck and then get the reception to alert the Day Manager who alerts the receptionist to call an ambulance, that is after the care worker has checked to see if the elder person is alive and still kicking and to verify she hasn't had a fainting fit rather than a stroke, and not a doc in sight and the chihuahua has not passed its term as intern or other at a major medical teaching institution.
Yes, may sound very funny, or shall i add that to be examined in a very busy local A&E, in the corridor, having my top pulled up for the stet, while a young man leant against a door post watching. I was on a trolley in the corridor, he was taking time out from a cardiac arrest invalid, beside me in the cardiac special care A&E.
great entertainment for him to see a boob or too of a middle aged woman,yep, that would keep his mind off his job at hand ok. with fright rather than arousal too.
I dont know where we are going, we have a structured plan for the HSE development yesterday and today we have loud noises (not mine) that the HSE is gonna be demolished.
So we have a third health service being dreamed up in a stretch of nearly the same length of time, well thats a stretch too far i guess.
it will take treble that time to get this structure and communications and all on high tech, rather than doing the pay slips for thousands of workers by pushing pens for days on end.
And by that time my friends, like it or not, most of us will be DEAD, yep, friad so, gone with the wind in the willows, DEAD!
Sorry to upset you but it cannot be as bad as what is happening in real time eh? and i read about quantum physics last night, time and such does not exist, ask Charity!
I worry, you see, who will elect themselves to go, and for an easy life, and those who will stay for an even easier one - with pay!
I do have ideas, there are many all across the board i would tell to go back to the skilled jobs they had before they decided, whoppsies, i better use my degree before i get much older as the day job is not producing much now.
Yes, they exist, too many. Sorry if i offend, but those whose career was a mother, or a craftsperson etc, needs to do re-training before they launch back into the workforce.
I believe little is offered in this respect. As one astute person (within the HSE) told me, "i think the inadequates are there purposely."
I would tend to agree.
You would worry, wouldn't you?
But a collective response for the citizens of ireland to put on the ballot, 'Please boot out that bloody shitzer of a consultant who is so RUDE!"
or more politely "Boot her out, what does she know about knob spoons or spinners?"
It kinda gets awkward for instance, four physiotherapy sessions in five years within the public health sector, is that an admin error, communications error, purposeful error, or bad mistake that?
Did someone forget to put the stamp on the letter, or lost the physio on the way to work?
Or, have i made a record here, certainly i have one of the musically vocal kind of a screeching nature, and a type response to discussions which were not allowed on IrishHealth.com because of fears of litigation.
I have been refused publication in our fantastic Irish Times, lettersed too, yeh, i tend to hit bones on this one certainly.
Ditto Joe Duffy and Drive time. Well the former know i am a ex psych patient and since discovering this fact i am 'off air.'
No, i didnt disgrace myself, i hit close and a lot of people don't like that much, you get zipped if you get close, litigation again, i have no doubt.
I contributed my 'expert patient' knowledge for recommendations for change in the Mental health service, which after years of Experts input, hit the deck pretty fast, indeed it never got past the off the printing deck, and indeed again very nearly never turned up in print form the day it was launched, supposedly by Ms. Mary Harney, but she didnt show, her dep did. I wasnt impressed.
the Vision in 'Vision for change" is just that, as predicted by a beautiful woman with a sad son in Dundrum Mental Crimminal Hospital whom i met at the launch.
I was very skeptical then, but many were visibly vibrant about Visions. Myself and the Beautiful elegant woman were not.
Craziness is not in my mind, but we do have a crazy country with crazy services for the ill, bewildered and disabled.
It is worrying too to find that a day centre for elderly can be 'manned' by a young boy of 16yrs., an ex psych patient (vetted by police though, so i guess i am ok there) with a tiny dog, all unqualified except for the dog i think, for a few hours.
Yes, elderly, frail and vulnerable with not a pro in sight for all that time, and no lessons in first aid, emergency call in, or out. Nothing. What do you do, sent the chihuahua to alert the reception that Mrs. K has hit the deck and then get the reception to alert the Day Manager who alerts the receptionist to call an ambulance, that is after the care worker has checked to see if the elder person is alive and still kicking and to verify she hasn't had a fainting fit rather than a stroke, and not a doc in sight and the chihuahua has not passed its term as intern or other at a major medical teaching institution.
Yes, may sound very funny, or shall i add that to be examined in a very busy local A&E, in the corridor, having my top pulled up for the stet, while a young man leant against a door post watching. I was on a trolley in the corridor, he was taking time out from a cardiac arrest invalid, beside me in the cardiac special care A&E.
great entertainment for him to see a boob or too of a middle aged woman,yep, that would keep his mind off his job at hand ok. with fright rather than arousal too.
I dont know where we are going, we have a structured plan for the HSE development yesterday and today we have loud noises (not mine) that the HSE is gonna be demolished.
So we have a third health service being dreamed up in a stretch of nearly the same length of time, well thats a stretch too far i guess.
it will take treble that time to get this structure and communications and all on high tech, rather than doing the pay slips for thousands of workers by pushing pens for days on end.
And by that time my friends, like it or not, most of us will be DEAD, yep, friad so, gone with the wind in the willows, DEAD!
Sorry to upset you but it cannot be as bad as what is happening in real time eh? and i read about quantum physics last night, time and such does not exist, ask Charity!
Friday, November 5, 2010
An entire rethink on being disabled!
Yes, humm...tis not good i have to say! no other word, nothing like 'accept,' get on with your life, day by day (the song is nicer), so on, so forth.
I was excited starting off - was going to meet my wee great neice after the hospital.
unfortunately the hospital came first.
all ok really, nice woman lecturer in psychology from Galway waiting in the same clinic as i, we had a chat.
don't you dare give up the consultant, they are like gold dust, i say. anyway prof hardi is Gorgeous, she is!
i came out, met the psychologist waiting to see the physio i had seen and i got as far as paying for the parking ticket. the trick again is the juggling one, (oh, on way in i thought i had lost my eclair cake) until i finally realised it was squashed under my armpit in the brown paper bag), i deviate. its the juggling, stick, mitts,hat, bag and finding the money for the little white ticket that will spit out at you once done.
it didnt take E50, shit. I had just got my disabled persons pension, but while fumbling, the stick fell onto the ground, a young woman offered to help, a child looked on bewildered, the E50 then fell to the ground followed by the E20 which was an acceptable note.
I sing 'ha, you cant have that!' as the young woman picks it up and meets the E20 on the way down and ditto that! the child is bewildered, i am befuzzled and embarrassed, i am sweating now and the machine duly spat the ticket out once it received the E20 in its mouth.
I had some coins in return but they popped out one, slowly, one slowly, etc.
I felt paranoid over that damn machine. I felt it was mocking me.
relieved to get away from humans (child and machines) as i felt alien i went up to the 2nd carport floor, around i strut with the stick slapping and the hips swinging in a very tired and laboured way, i couldnt find my van with the psych flowers.
back to the machine area, into the lift, down to the first floor, walk, slap and swayin' i find the van.
Lights on, check stuff, key in ignition, no ticket.
sweating again, out of the van, slap my pockets, slap the seats and slap anything in sight, as well as curse.
I find it.
off i went.
drove rather fast to catch my wee great niece of four months, fearful Ma and the bab would have gone out. I cut across double solid white lines, into her street and parked in a loading bay.
Yes, thus far day going well, eh?
out the stick, couldnt find the camera, even though i had powered up its battery over night.
disappointed. was sure i put it in.
went to see Juno and Judy.
OMG, she is a gorgeous wee thing of four months old. A real giggler, gorgeous dimples, fab eyes, and that laughing smile.
the dystonia did probably what was right, made a strange dystonic prayer and hug up of the shoulders as in 'ooh, ahh. oh she gorgeous!'
I held her and - felt SO good, a baby in my arms now is a joy and utter bliss.
She threw up over my left hand.
i laughed. back to Mama.
we talked some and Judy Meg is a great young woman, sensible and thinking ahead wisely.
continuing her music, glad to hear.
I get a pic! a lovely picture of my newest but one, great niece.
I feel privileged and proud.
where next?
Conn's to get my camera which was having its sensor cleaned.
well to cut short a long disastrous day, row with a private car parking guy, lost more mouth guzzling tickets.
crashed the scooter as couldnt pass a parked bicycle on the pavement, i trapped my fingers in part of its anatomy and bent them back. that hurt.
asking directions you felt the depression of my beleaguered country, and my banjaxed body.
i felt ridiculous in the rain sitting there waiting so that someone would notice and tell me the way.
Well surely you'd NOTICE!
i think they do but walk on...its linked into disability, but fair dues, three were non nationals of a european kind, without the lingo and blanked out with confusion themselves i guess.
I move on.
I decided i didnt like town, and it was too difficult. the external stimuli buzzing the internal workings and sending the dysfunctional crazy.
I didnt feel good, paranoid, yep, truly and godly paranoid.
STOP TREATING ME DIFFERENTLY, you know that wee smile and 'oh let me move that, just in case' that smile that moves a stick cos you might fall, when still you can actually step over it.
its the smile, all in the smile. "take that bloody smile off your face" nah, they didnt, but i did.
i wasnt smiling.
i fumed.
heading home, friday night pissing rain, out mainstream to streams of bumper to bumper traffic. Thinking self smart i head off baggot street for the dual carriage way, bad idea, i turn, three point and kind rover let me.
headed for the lower road by the american embassy. no better.
i bail out at what once was Jurys, i had not eaten since 8am and it was now 4.30pm
too tired to eat, i picked at a dinner, it was disgusting anyway. I wanted to sit on my jigging legs, i succeeded, i didnt want to sit up at the table, i succeeded. i sort of slithered on the legs, with the chips in a bowl on my lap.
the teeth, the falsies couldn't bite into them, jaysus this is turning real good. I suck.
that bad, yeh that bad alright.
I cease sucking and wrap em in a napkin. Not discovering them again until i am outside my van at the other end, they were to provide nourishment on the journey!
asked for the bill.
I am being watched. yep, watched.
take your glare someplace else, i wanted to say to a largish woman with a gin and tonic. I overheard the word, 'funeral.'
I was out. lost the bloody mouth eating ticket, again.
up to reception, i head out, phone rang.
couldn't hear, bags, mitts, ticket, stick as well as mobile slammed into the hearing aid.
i sit in the smoking covered area, it was the 'dog whisperer' who was going to talk to saffi and tell her to behave, truely.
what a time to ring, as the guy who wanted to collect the fire place surrounds, as i was sitting in beaumont clinic.
what next, have you guessed, do guess i ask you to guess. I lost the ticket. once in the van couldn;t find it. i was feeling ill.
found it, so out again into the friday, dark and rainy rush hour.
i was pissed. -Off. I was into the bus lane. Paranoid. was a screeching cop gonna get me? i was planning my 'get out clause.'
i didn't care i wanted bed.
body in bits, agony, agony, bed...bed...i dreamed as the lights flickered madly and i drove sharply and well ---fast. Bus lane all the way, no cop.
i get home. trundle the pink plastic trolley with cameras etc up the avenue, head my chihuahuas and i am greeting them before i hit the hall door.
guess what, please guess... i beg you to guess - no key, some of you were right, other clueless.
rang friend, rang mags in london, i went to her place, fed the cat and got all the keys i could find, the second fitted.
i was in, ana went balistic and ran around like a demented captured chihuahua in the wet grass, maggie sniffed the damp and changed her mind.
i undress, feed the dogs, and door bell rang, the friend, to make sure i was safe.
short chat.
i tell her i had lost the mobile too.
she suggested she check in the van, i consent.
guess what....omg...tis a bad, bad day, couldn't find the car keys.
we give up, felt i would find them on the morning.
well i didnt, i found them there on the porch wall, along with twins letters.
right, i could have been...raped....as i lay...naked...i was...naked with the keys outside my hall door, in er, bandit country or more or less.
hum some day, blog badly written. am whacked tired and drunk with pain.
buzzing head and buzzing brain.
oh please dont DO this to me. i have a serious rethink on being disabled.
well it will take more than free cheese to sort it too. (for those who are not enlightened, the gov are offering us poor devils free cheese from the cheese mountains in brussels). We cheese free-ers are livid.
rightly so, i remember queueing for the free food mountain in the 70's, prime beef stock we were told, the legit legs and mutt.
what did we get, tins, dozens, and heavy for walking folk, with a stamp on the plastic carrier bags and the stamp of red embarrassment on the face. they were sorry at the centre where you showed your social welfare card, they had run out of the legs of cow or mutt.
tins opened it was i think....horse...defo horse, with congeal...remember?
that went OUT for the rats, we had them aplenty and probably far more after the free distribution of horse.
i will end, someone asked on the radio, do we get a free mouse trap with the free cheese.
yikes off the theme, but its been a LONG day.
I was excited starting off - was going to meet my wee great neice after the hospital.
unfortunately the hospital came first.
all ok really, nice woman lecturer in psychology from Galway waiting in the same clinic as i, we had a chat.
don't you dare give up the consultant, they are like gold dust, i say. anyway prof hardi is Gorgeous, she is!
i came out, met the psychologist waiting to see the physio i had seen and i got as far as paying for the parking ticket. the trick again is the juggling one, (oh, on way in i thought i had lost my eclair cake) until i finally realised it was squashed under my armpit in the brown paper bag), i deviate. its the juggling, stick, mitts,hat, bag and finding the money for the little white ticket that will spit out at you once done.
it didnt take E50, shit. I had just got my disabled persons pension, but while fumbling, the stick fell onto the ground, a young woman offered to help, a child looked on bewildered, the E50 then fell to the ground followed by the E20 which was an acceptable note.
I sing 'ha, you cant have that!' as the young woman picks it up and meets the E20 on the way down and ditto that! the child is bewildered, i am befuzzled and embarrassed, i am sweating now and the machine duly spat the ticket out once it received the E20 in its mouth.
I had some coins in return but they popped out one, slowly, one slowly, etc.
I felt paranoid over that damn machine. I felt it was mocking me.
relieved to get away from humans (child and machines) as i felt alien i went up to the 2nd carport floor, around i strut with the stick slapping and the hips swinging in a very tired and laboured way, i couldnt find my van with the psych flowers.
back to the machine area, into the lift, down to the first floor, walk, slap and swayin' i find the van.
Lights on, check stuff, key in ignition, no ticket.
sweating again, out of the van, slap my pockets, slap the seats and slap anything in sight, as well as curse.
I find it.
off i went.
drove rather fast to catch my wee great niece of four months, fearful Ma and the bab would have gone out. I cut across double solid white lines, into her street and parked in a loading bay.
Yes, thus far day going well, eh?
out the stick, couldnt find the camera, even though i had powered up its battery over night.
disappointed. was sure i put it in.
went to see Juno and Judy.
OMG, she is a gorgeous wee thing of four months old. A real giggler, gorgeous dimples, fab eyes, and that laughing smile.
the dystonia did probably what was right, made a strange dystonic prayer and hug up of the shoulders as in 'ooh, ahh. oh she gorgeous!'
I held her and - felt SO good, a baby in my arms now is a joy and utter bliss.
She threw up over my left hand.
i laughed. back to Mama.
we talked some and Judy Meg is a great young woman, sensible and thinking ahead wisely.
continuing her music, glad to hear.
I get a pic! a lovely picture of my newest but one, great niece.
I feel privileged and proud.
where next?
Conn's to get my camera which was having its sensor cleaned.
well to cut short a long disastrous day, row with a private car parking guy, lost more mouth guzzling tickets.
crashed the scooter as couldnt pass a parked bicycle on the pavement, i trapped my fingers in part of its anatomy and bent them back. that hurt.
asking directions you felt the depression of my beleaguered country, and my banjaxed body.
i felt ridiculous in the rain sitting there waiting so that someone would notice and tell me the way.
Well surely you'd NOTICE!
i think they do but walk on...its linked into disability, but fair dues, three were non nationals of a european kind, without the lingo and blanked out with confusion themselves i guess.
I move on.
I decided i didnt like town, and it was too difficult. the external stimuli buzzing the internal workings and sending the dysfunctional crazy.
I didnt feel good, paranoid, yep, truly and godly paranoid.
STOP TREATING ME DIFFERENTLY, you know that wee smile and 'oh let me move that, just in case' that smile that moves a stick cos you might fall, when still you can actually step over it.
its the smile, all in the smile. "take that bloody smile off your face" nah, they didnt, but i did.
i wasnt smiling.
i fumed.
heading home, friday night pissing rain, out mainstream to streams of bumper to bumper traffic. Thinking self smart i head off baggot street for the dual carriage way, bad idea, i turn, three point and kind rover let me.
headed for the lower road by the american embassy. no better.
i bail out at what once was Jurys, i had not eaten since 8am and it was now 4.30pm
too tired to eat, i picked at a dinner, it was disgusting anyway. I wanted to sit on my jigging legs, i succeeded, i didnt want to sit up at the table, i succeeded. i sort of slithered on the legs, with the chips in a bowl on my lap.
the teeth, the falsies couldn't bite into them, jaysus this is turning real good. I suck.
that bad, yeh that bad alright.
I cease sucking and wrap em in a napkin. Not discovering them again until i am outside my van at the other end, they were to provide nourishment on the journey!
asked for the bill.
I am being watched. yep, watched.
take your glare someplace else, i wanted to say to a largish woman with a gin and tonic. I overheard the word, 'funeral.'
I was out. lost the bloody mouth eating ticket, again.
up to reception, i head out, phone rang.
couldn't hear, bags, mitts, ticket, stick as well as mobile slammed into the hearing aid.
i sit in the smoking covered area, it was the 'dog whisperer' who was going to talk to saffi and tell her to behave, truely.
what a time to ring, as the guy who wanted to collect the fire place surrounds, as i was sitting in beaumont clinic.
what next, have you guessed, do guess i ask you to guess. I lost the ticket. once in the van couldn;t find it. i was feeling ill.
found it, so out again into the friday, dark and rainy rush hour.
i was pissed. -Off. I was into the bus lane. Paranoid. was a screeching cop gonna get me? i was planning my 'get out clause.'
i didn't care i wanted bed.
body in bits, agony, agony, bed...bed...i dreamed as the lights flickered madly and i drove sharply and well ---fast. Bus lane all the way, no cop.
i get home. trundle the pink plastic trolley with cameras etc up the avenue, head my chihuahuas and i am greeting them before i hit the hall door.
guess what, please guess... i beg you to guess - no key, some of you were right, other clueless.
rang friend, rang mags in london, i went to her place, fed the cat and got all the keys i could find, the second fitted.
i was in, ana went balistic and ran around like a demented captured chihuahua in the wet grass, maggie sniffed the damp and changed her mind.
i undress, feed the dogs, and door bell rang, the friend, to make sure i was safe.
short chat.
i tell her i had lost the mobile too.
she suggested she check in the van, i consent.
guess what....omg...tis a bad, bad day, couldn't find the car keys.
we give up, felt i would find them on the morning.
well i didnt, i found them there on the porch wall, along with twins letters.
right, i could have been...raped....as i lay...naked...i was...naked with the keys outside my hall door, in er, bandit country or more or less.
hum some day, blog badly written. am whacked tired and drunk with pain.
buzzing head and buzzing brain.
oh please dont DO this to me. i have a serious rethink on being disabled.
well it will take more than free cheese to sort it too. (for those who are not enlightened, the gov are offering us poor devils free cheese from the cheese mountains in brussels). We cheese free-ers are livid.
rightly so, i remember queueing for the free food mountain in the 70's, prime beef stock we were told, the legit legs and mutt.
what did we get, tins, dozens, and heavy for walking folk, with a stamp on the plastic carrier bags and the stamp of red embarrassment on the face. they were sorry at the centre where you showed your social welfare card, they had run out of the legs of cow or mutt.
tins opened it was i think....horse...defo horse, with congeal...remember?
that went OUT for the rats, we had them aplenty and probably far more after the free distribution of horse.
i will end, someone asked on the radio, do we get a free mouse trap with the free cheese.
yikes off the theme, but its been a LONG day.
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