'mustn't grumble'.......why not?

Is it particularly Irish to hold back and not grumble?
What is so awful about saying it as it really is?

If it is not like this, then you wouldn't need to grumble because then there would be nothing to grumble about.
therefore, Grumbling is, usually 'voicing a truth no one wants to hear'  rather than 'grumbling over nothing.'

A funny thing also about 'grumbling' those who 'grumble' are reminded by others, of the dying, the starving, the homeless and the cripples.
That is so you put things in perspective.
But 'Grumbling' is relative, as are levels of 'grumbles' and where one 'grumbles' and about what.

to me, as a person who has a strong social conscience, who hates crookery, deprivation, injustice and cruelty i still have issues.  I want to 'grumble.'
And why?
Because simply put we all have 'issues'  and some 'issues' are worse than others, but remain a grumbling troubling boil - on the bum-er of life itself.

Grumbling IS fair.
its not fair to compare for instance, pain which is caused by disease as against pain which is caused by a snapped spinal cord injury.
Has anyone ever heard this one 'now you would have something to grumble about if you were "Joe Blogs, he can't get out of a wheelchair."
Maybe he cannot.
I am not saying he is having the life of fun, hilarity and is anyway joyful he cannot get out of a wheelchair.  i think its fecking awful he cannot, but maybe he might see it differently, he might say he is bloody lucky not to be dead.
That's the difference.  We cannot presume someone is actually worse off.

therefore we also have to say the levels of grumbles are as variable as there are different continents on the planet and different ways of living and the troubles relative to the different people on the planet.
no two will be the same.
So end of lecture and the beginning of my grumble.

To me its a pretty big grumble.
I am profoundly depressed about it and i mean it.  I can say this in a depressing announcement or i can say it in a quirky way.
it doesn't really matter, hence the way one says it doesn't determine how bad it is.

to me to be honest i am falling apart at the seams.
I am telling my listeners what place i was in and how my life is panning out.  A decade ago it all began.
It wasn't that brilliant, but then i don't think any person has it plain sailing.
It certainly wasn't as traumatic as i am finding it now.

it was my home, my community, it meant the world to me

I was then settled in more ways than one.
i was happier than i was say, growing up. I was happier than I was when I tried and failed to work in the normal sense of the word.   I was as happy as I could be given the circumstances I found myself in.  I was in a real community that bothered and i bothered about them.   A lot.
I felt safe, I felt also needed and i felt  held by my community.

I didn't have a family, I knew really they didn't care, but did I need it (i did actually but even today I know that this may be a bit unrealistic though I need them more than ever), i don't think they are going to actually be there for me.
but i was happy then.

a new laptop awarded by the ADF which attempted to have me continue being creative.  It did until some eggit in the HSE decided i needed to move away from a place I loved

i got very unwell.
here is the biggest grumble on the planet.
i got so unwell i was using a wheelchair and a mobility scooter more and more, and i was languishing horizontal more then ever and the studio was gone and my painting days were over.

my older sister had died some ten years prior to this and my dad left me a tiny town house in a posh side of town, but why move when i felt really good in the secure community i was in.  It was also owned by my twin, who had her rights on this as well.

mags, my twin sister, when she was not yet unwell at the time, helped me decorate the home i loved when i lost my studio and became so very depressed about it all

but what happened next was like something out of a horror film.
there are two very large organisations in Ireland, both state funded therefore state er, funded.
the county council and the HSE.
Which is worse is anyone guess but definitely they have a very 'Irish thing' in common.
Responsibility and 'ownership of mistakes' isn't high on their agenda.

What happened next shouldn't have happened.
The person writing this blog wasn't in social housing for nothing.
I come from a rich and well educated family, so if i too am educated...and i am, it goes without saying that something must have happened.
we use the term in this little country as well, 'down on her luck'  but it was more than that.
i crashed out of living and life, i wasn't able for it.  i was drowning in society and now i understand why even if i didn't then.
so I became so unwell I nearly fecking died on the stairs of this social housing unit.
They were becoming too much for me.
Ending in hospital three times had the OT persuading me that my life wasn't worth living if i could be dead in the morning from them stairs.
Well that's fine i suppose and not a bad notion, in theory, that i could have been dead on them stairs, one poor man was and did die on them stairs across the way.
a 'unit' (that's what a home that is given by the state is called here, a unit ffs.)  came free downstairs.
it was similar to the one i had upstairs, so i didn't see it as much of an issue to move downstairs and ask to move downstairs.
well the council thought it a very big deal actually.

i seem to need AIR but this was before i knew why, i had developed Primary Sjogrens Syndrome, the first of a long list of ailments i went on to develop and Ireland left me to rot.  i had to leave the country to get this diagnosis and others.

they saw it as a big issue.
despite three consultants in medicine reminding the council and the HSE that  I would not deal well with change and  not to move me from a community i felt good and secure in and that my needs were such that i shouldn't be moved away from it.
well sod the consultants says the council, more or less because the did sod the consultants and moved me anyway.

I always loved nature, plants and always wanted a garden, but not at great expense, which was proven to be the case.  Sunflowers never thrived here with the cars and their fumes.  you have to give me some marks and them too for even trying.

and where was the HSE, well they were no where to be seen, they were once begging the council to leave me on the street i loved after that then they left me to it.

it played out like a bad dream.
it was a bad dream, far too bad.

I found myself alone, very alone.
There was  no one helping me move downstairs at all so much so i was shifted out of the area altogether.   Not only that i was shifted to an area which was all male.  I was a vulnerable woman, single, once sexually abused by a cleric was being moved there while most of the little vulnerable children were moved out.
so what is the difference between threat to a child and threat to an incapacitated woman in an enclave of alcoholic men i say?
well either could be dead, from any manner of issues.
i was dead really because as soon as i got there i was dead.

Finally i was shot at.
So the council says to the HSE that 'we didn't manage this well,'  like bloody hell they didn't.
the HSE said 'we am distressed by all of this.'
One thing though neither found it their place to shift me out of there once i was shot at.
oh and I have the evidence of a gun slinger on the wall, for i didn't know what was happening as i am very deaf except i was being harassed.   Up went my camera and i shot her.  Yep it was a girl gun slinger.

I hit her between the eyes.
she was a lousy shot for she left five bullets around my swing seat and two more by the back door.
I was target practise i suppose.
I wasn't dead but i wasn't staying there either.

so i got nine points  and put back on the list for rehousing.
i was told by another HSE OT that i would be dead before they would find me a place to live.

losing the garden but i had lost my soul so what did i care right at that point

when a neighbour said i would never be able to grow anything, that the kids would rip em all up.  They didn't. They had great respect for me, i loved them.   I left presents for each child that i grew to love and they who loved me. why did they not rip up all my plants and cause me that harm?  These were younger but when i left a large table out which wouldn't fit into this new place they battered it to bits.  So angered was I, I went to every home in that cul de sac and demanded the kids write an apology and bring it to my door within 24hrs.  They never thrashed another thing belonging to me again. 

so i felt i didn't want to be dead before that.
we sold the small town house and after all my life living in one county sick, depleted, stressed to the point of a nervous breakdown i moved to a different county.

Yes, there is a human being on this sofa, its my twin, now with a diagnosis of Parkinson's disease, she was living at that time in the house we owned but we had to sell this.  she had no where to live until we both found a home.  She spent eight months on my sofa and it was a small sofa.  There was 'Family' who could have put her up, if they cared.

well no it didn't end here.
well its as if i am withering under the weight of depression, isolation, distress and despair.

but i know not a sod person cares a shit  i was left to it all.  There wasn't a lot i could have done.
So now i am here in this county.
No it doesn't end there because this county's HSE got at me.
I kid you not i have been very unfortunate.

name calling comes to mind, some very suspect stuff put on my medical files and no answers at all but more stress and strain from an organisation that i loathe now with all my might.
i think, well, what i think of the HSE is very evil  and dark thoughts indeed.

yes, there are some nice people within the organisation, but the organisation has one god and that is the organisation itself.
it doesn't really matter if its about people, the Irish people's health which they are all about.
Most forgot that part long ago, including this Government who cite Article 18 section something as to why they cannot get involved with the hokery pokery that is going on with a lot of sad and stressed and diseased and disabled ill in this small land.
Its not their problem according to them.
But then so too is it not the HSE problem, nor the council?

well its someones problem because once i was happy and now i am not.
Not only that, i am miles away from all i know and in the middle of the sticks, with no friends or even one person i know.
i am too sick really to start all over again and i miss my old life.
the life the consultants told them that i would not be able to leave and they are right.
so I am now in the life that the consultants said to them, both the HSE and the council that i wouldn't be able to adjust to.
I am not and i havent, they were right so.
that's my grumble.  i am sticking to it.
its a big one for me.
if i am now angry as well, who could blame me.

the grumble is this.
there isn't one single glorious thing i can think of that is relevant to this country, the state operatives, and the HSE.
there is one person who is also suffering, and partly because i am suffering and partly because she wasn't dealt a great hand once she met the HSE after the NHS, which to her and my eyes is a damn sight more civilised than the HSE.
i rest my case.
Ah, i will end on a better note, after well over two centuries we have or are about to get rid of the Lunacy act, i kid you not.   Many are incredulous about this one too, that it took so long!  They call it 'an embarrassment.'
Yep, we still have lunatics here in Ireland but we shall be getting rid of the lunatics soon.
 unfortunately not the ones in the HSE or the Government.  But those who are lunatic through no fault of their own shall be decently called what they always should have been called long ago, human beings who just happen to be learning disabled or mentally ill.
Not lunatics at all, now or ever but its taken us all this time to scrap a constitutional law they didn't know how to go about scrapping, until two centuries later, they couldn't wrap their little brains around that one so how on earth could they cope with little Ann eh?
god forbid how could they?

You could have said the same about me at the same place at the same time.  'Do not move'

we left -
but arrived at a new type of hell, with the same hell from the HSE, but even that was in complete contrast to the old type of hell. one more innocent. This kind definitely not innocent.

Men v. Women The war of the sexes - in H.......

Is the writer a woman? Does she own these dogs?  Is she therefore a wimp?
Answer - the writer is a Woman. Be warned -  The Writer ain't no pushover

Well,
there are many wars to be honest, between men and women.

if i am right and the hits on this title are large, we all seem to know about them.

Did you know of one particular one though?

Health?

Well, Women know about this alright and its also a proven one, the war is on..... Men!

Its not so much a war, but it is definitely about 'some mothers do have em'  and its about men who are doctors, and i am concentrating on one country, Ireland.

its a fact.
we are an incredibly misogynist country.

but it seems its also in politics and religion, of the latter the whole WORLD knows about that particular war, the fairer species is inferior.

but is it too about 'Trust?'
are women to be trusted.

is that what it is, rather than a war AGAINST women.

is it that we are inferior because we are not to be trusted?

or is it about 'Intelligence?'

Is it that we are stupid that we are not to be trusted and there is a war on.

or is it about 'Being Liars?'

Is it that, we are stupid, we lie and therefore cannot be trusted?

or, wait again, is it about Hormones?

We are stupid, we lie, we are not to be trusted because when our hormones flare we do too, therefore we are inferior!

its none of these things.

In fact women do better, in Ireland in science and maths in the Leaving certificate.
We work harder - fact.

Is this a Doctor?  Is this a Man's Dog or is it a Woman's dog?
the answer ..............This dog is both a doctor and it belongs to a female, who is not a doctor!

Is this a doctor?  Is this a man's dog or a woman's dog?  This is a Doctor!  YES!  SHE is a WOMAN!
this dog is a woman's dog, belonging to a woman who isnt mad on Irish Male Doctors!

therefore we are bright, if not brighter than men.

can we be trusted, well we can actually because we are trusted all the time with little helpless babies, its men that are not to be trusted with them!

is it because we are not strong.

we are actually, very strong.  Why do i say this, because as soon as there is trouble in the camp when it comes to children, men usually just walk away.
if a child is disabled the men walk out.
women don't, they stay, the face it - for better or for worse they face this.

Do we lie?

well no, no more than men, we are trusted to have a bank account for instance.
and we are more trusted to deal in finance and why do i say this?

because what brought this country down were men, male bankers, all of them.
so too the developers, and the housing trade, men, all of them.

so why when it comes to health we are 'perceived' as lying, whinging, stupid, weak, mentally defective and lazy?

its a good question, innit?

and i think the men should begin to answer them square on.
because, i can!
I am bright, intelligent, fair, strong and mentally able.  I am also practical and do not lie.

that's why i can say what i say.
the men are at fault in all of this.

Men chose to see women as weak, feeble, liars, hormonally strung high and daft as a brush.
I chose to see men as misogynist.

because they are!

How do i say this regarding health care and health and medicine.
here is why.

because i have been dealing with two health care systems for the past few years therefore i know men treat women dreadfully badly when they are doctors in Ireland as opposed in the UK, in the NHS.

here is the difference and here is the proof.

I go back as far as 2008.

can you tell the difference?  who may need a psychiatrist?  Is it the women in the wheelchair or the man with a book on his head?

this was my first trip out - i had to get out because Ireland left me for dead, i was to return home and take the anti-depressants.
it didn't matter that at the time i was a wheelchair user and couldn't get out of one!
that's entirely beside the point!

i went to London.
i was treated courteously, i was treated with a friendly embrace (not physical) but it was embracing and wonderful.
within five minutes and a bit of a chat i was diagnosed with Primary Sjogrens Syndrome.
whether it was because Ireland didn't know about this condition or didn't bother to test for it i am unsure.
but it only took five minutes!
i kid you not.
confirmation came with the bloods, but if the Irish had looked at the bloods they would have seen what i saw and which saw me head for the Lupus Centre, immediately i could.

Is this a Woman?  Is this a Doctor?  Is she Mad or an Artist?  This is a woman, who is NOT a doctor, but yes, she is a Mad Artist!

I did not do seven years medical school nor did i do my internship or be a registrar in any hospital.
i just took the same piece of paper with the same blood tests results that all Irish doctors had and i researched.  it was Lupus to me, but ah i was wrong but nearly right so that's clever with no degree so it is, it was sjogrens syndrome, the same spectrum of autoimmune diseases.
it should have been easy peasy to an Irish medic, we are supposed to be trained up well.

anyway a year later i was walking and back for review in the UK.
i was greeted with outstretched arms - they couldn't believe it, i was not in a wheelchair, i came into the room walking.
'my miracle patient!' said the consultant.
not really, i was just treated and under treatment and it was working.

but of course that wasn't the only thing happening and i had considerable muscle wastage.

back in Ireland i was left, i have now been out a few times, and all these outings brought a diagnosis.

OK then after five days in a side room in an Irish hospital i was told to go home and lie in a darkened room, my symptoms were probably migraine.
well there is a vast difference between menieres and migraine.
now even the Irish should know this one.

no i didn't do the research on tis but the next time out they discovered it.
yep, simples.
well it should have been to Irish medics.
they do diagnose menieres disease.

but in my case i was left in a side room.

the bit about dodgy genes and the fatigue, i was simply told i had ME.
well, no i couldn't said a guy from Imperial college UK, if i already have crohns i couldn't have ME.

but there is more to it than this.
its the way the Irish walk too that is different, that is the Irish doctor, they walk funny, see.
the men do anyway.

is this a woman?  Or...Is this a factory made tin woman pretending to be a woman?
Its brainless, therefore its not a woman, its tin, therefore its not a woman, it doesn't not have blood in its veins, therefore it is not a woman. It's a Tin woman NOT pretending to be a woman

In the UK they walk well, well they walk well beside the patient as they push her, yes A WOMAN back to the ward, they actually do not go all paralysed at the thought of walking/pushing a wheelchair back to the ward, and pushing a woman no less.

they do it, and they speak as if you have intelligence, about all manner of things, including travel and art.
here they wouldn't do that, or couldn't, i have yet to determine.

Do Wheelchairs move suspended from ceilings?  Are wheelchairs pushed?  Who is usually in them?
No, wheelchairs are not usually suspended from ceilings, they stay firmly on the ground.  They can be pushed (by a man or a woman!)  Sick or Disabled used them (no, not always those who cannot use their legs, eg spinal cord injury)
finally, do wheelchair users usually wave hatchets?  YES and NO!  Believe me there are many reasons why they can and sometimes do  not or chose not to.
its also physically impossible to swing from the ceiling in the horizontal position.

but they don't walk you to the ward.
they never push a wheelchair
cos they cannot walk that well nor speak that well to a woman patient, or wouldn't.

Who are these Women?  Are they Sick?  Why are they in the same bed together?
They are Ann Kennedy and Dr. Margaret Kennedy
They are Sick.
They are saving NHS Laundry (NO), they are sharing the only Fan on the ward!
Would Male Twin brothers who are Adult do this?
NO!

 another thing too.
they dont sit cross legged at the feet of a patient.  let alone a woman.
but they do that in the UK, even consultants.
especially if they are examining legs.
no this isnt sexists, its about doing a medical exam on legs.
they get down the level of legs, bare ones at that, of a WOMAN!  oh my, such a difference, such a shock.
And not only that, but they collaborate.
they actually do joined up thinking, they talk to a lesser species as if she is actually an equal.
ha!

no in ireland they wouldnt do that, or couldnt.
they will not work alongside a physiotherapist, that is rarely, i knew one female doctor working with another female doctor, together in the one room.
but never with a male doctor.

they just do not do it.

Men do it so so differently here.
they like to stick to the one room, they feel outside their comfort zone if they do not see a patient in a room which has a desk between patient and himself.

Doctors here, consultants, ask you at every consultation what medication you are on.
over 'there' they do not.
they may do once, the rest of the time, its written in stone, that is on file so they can refer to it, before a consultation.

its surprising too cos in the uk they have a good deal more patients than here.
i mean, we have only roughly four million, given that a million are in effect healthy.
in the uk they have about 50million, given that eight million are healthy.

Is the Owner of this Foot a Woman or a doctor?  is she a Liar, ignorant, feeble, cheat or hormonal?
Does she need a Doctor, a physiotherapist, botox and proper shoes?
The owner of this foot is a Woman.  the Owner of this foot is a Doctor.  She is NOT a Liar, She is Not Ignorant, she is Not feeble, NOR a cheat Nor Hormonal, the hormones are as dormant as most Irish doctors (males that is)

so its not that we are ignorant, weak, feeble, mad as a march hare, liars or cheats, that they treat us as if we are.
its because they perceive us to be liars, cheats, feeble, mad and hypochondriac.
they chose to do it.
the part that tells me one thing about the inferior versus the superior bit is, they dont push wheelchairs.
they simply wouldnt do it, its beneath them.

i call this absolutely pathetic so i do.
some of our most famous scientists and doctors have been female.

and i will leave one note to dwell on here with pure joy to be hold.

Every single condition that i have now presently, has been diagnosed in the UK.
nothing in Ireland.
Bar of course, hypothyroidism, which i think would be easy and crohns which is dead easy cos you can be absolutely sick as a parrot with that and i had to have surgery.
but, here is the catch, he didn't believe i was feeling unwell on the day of discharge.

what happened, my wound burst three days later and i was back in hospital.
i nearly flipping died.

we have the most amazing male doctors in Ireland.
someone should say something about this, i really think they should.
they could even do a doctorate on it.

it would be such a revealing thesis, but i think my blog wins me that doctorate.
i have it in one.
men are too posh to push - in Ireland
they don't trust women.
they are misogynist in Ireland.....Finally.....Would you TRUST these Dogs?

No, especially the one on the left, SHE BITES both Male and Female!

Who is stealing the Irish Crown Jewels?

I think your nuts are being stolen......!

Mulling about life in Ireland today i think of a few things only.

the state of the nation
the state of our health care system
the state of community.

and with that once thought upon i also thought too a fact.   Its all wiped off the map, entirely.

we are now claiming to be celebrating 100 years of Freeeeeeedom, from oppression and dominance and subjugation and annihilation.

ha, in the last decade alone Ireland seems to have lost all it had gained in a particular way called yes, corporate affairs and the EU, we are subjects of Europe and we have been annihilated.

we have sold our souls to the highest bidder.
we did this because 'they' the ones at the top thought it would be the only way we could get rich.
they thought that we needed to be rich.
the also thought we needed to be the same as every other country and started feeling sorry for themselves that we had not achieve world class status.

what it has achieved to this end, that is world class status, is completely lost the run of themselves and so lost the country too.
we are lost.

so i got thinking of what Ireland has or had and what Ireland is and isn't and what Ireland could be great at when all else fails and all else has failed.

Ireland is tiny.
teeny weeny in the scheme of things.
but with an ego and arrogance matching humpty dumpty with no brain at all.

We are a small country folks, i mean really small.
to put it in perspective a very worthy notable in the neurology field Prof. Orla Hardiman pointed out wisely and correctly, that there were more neurologist in Mongolia then there are in Ireland.

we could and should have more.
but we are small and have not actually looked after the people who are sick with neurological decline.

but we do tend to lose things, and medical expertise is down the tubes as well.

i digress.
what do we have?
lets look at the saying 'the land of saints and scholars'
it might have been a bit of a gloss on crookery (which we really DO have) but its quite noteworthy and actually classy to be saintly and scholarly i think.
we could make it a world class act if we really tried instead of believing we can be like America or Germany or Russia.

we are not
we are teeny weeny itsy bitsy yellow polka.
that small.

we have no natural resources, (oh yes, we do actually but we have just sold all that to Shell who shall export it all OUT).
we have no minerals, or mines.
we have no land oil, but we have gas fields.

the vultures are already here pecking at that big time.

we could become the centre of learning, the centre of study and research.
we also could be a world class act of telling and showing how the christian ethos has not died, its living in a secular society that actually cares about its people.

now this is what i call 'feeling the heat'  for better or for worse

we could be a shining light.
this is expensive, this is world class, this is leadership and leading the way for all the world which alas is following Ireland - oh i laugh out loud!
the world has gone mad.

but so too has Ireland.
so what do we do after we have got rid of Ireland, and i think we already have done that.

we might fully understand our foolishness when the pigeon comes home to roost

i am not sure but nearly certain of this.

we could contemplate each other in a meaningful way and stop the march of stepping over the homeless bodies, as New York is familiar with now for decades when we once were not.

we could knuckle down and train up ~(well) the medics and the staff and researchers which could lead us to be world class in healthy living and leadership in nutrition, care, consideration and community.
these are valuable commodities.

its not hypothetical, i am deadly serious.

i am dying of the cold so i am, i best crawl to the A'E there is 'heat' there.

while we are choking in the A'E's right now we are seriously a dying nation.
so we have to use what we once had, if not in the same format but in the same idealistic way and away from that ridiculous notion that we are actually important - now.
we are not important.

how important do you think Ireland is.

to Europe we are, because they are taking all our money and our country, they are nicking it from us right from under our very noses.

did i say 'egg heads' or did i say 'poppy heads'

but we are not important and the egg heads in the government thing we are, the slimy devils actually believe we are so so wonderful it is unbelievable.

well, i don't believe it, so its unbelievable to me.

will someone take note of what Ann is saying here.
will the rest of Ireland cop on.
we are a tiny bead in a vast sea of mostly plastic and we are polluting our heads and minds with notions of grandeur above our station.

we are tiny.

if you look carefully we (ireland) are located on the second right hand branch of the middle bare tree but we are that bud at the tip

i have said that now a few times.
we are green, is that better?
we are a tiny green little isle in a vast sea, we are unattached.


presently i am not in love.

how important is healthcare and who is important enough for it?

when you are living on this planet and alive you want to really stay here awhile.
for sure as eggs is eggs there is no coming back.

but while here we have whats called 'disciplines'
these 'disciplines' became disciplines through learning and study and hard work.
we have the doctor, the baker, the candlestick maker.

remember one thing my friends, each was born and each will die.
so who choses who should die first?
as in when you become ill.

is it the doctor...you bet not, but then there is a toss up between the baker and the candlestick maker.
it will be the one with insurance that gets it by a long margin, methinks.

but i want to stay alive.

And i did once enjoy being alive.
until i became so sick.

some if on the bottom rung both by qualification, status and class may be lucky.
those with the so called 'better personality' for instance will win that extra inch to stay alive.

but the 'better personality' is the one that is quiet, demure and diplomatic.

what if you are not quiet but quite vocal?
what if the quiet one says, 'i would rather not take that thank you.'  When the vocal one will say just 'NO, I am not taking THAT!'
see the difference already.

this is call judging by the cover.

the two people could be the same, have the same feelings, likes and dislikes, but one says it politely and quietly, the other just sort of says it.
thats called personality.

we loved John McEnroe, "You can't be serious"  and we still love him.
but we are very serious.

those of us who are blowsy and who have a bright and sunny personality but go wild with enthusiasm, rage and song and dance are the ones that may come off on the sticky when sicky.

it doesnt mean that the personality is bad, its called personality.
some seem to blur the boundaries between personality and character and personality and crimminality!
i kid you not.
its again the perception thing.

another thing that could mean you up the stakes on better health care.
the educational status you reach, even if at the time of the education, you were in a country who gave you neither the grant, nor the help to go further, it doesnt matter.
if you stayed and were denied the education because of lack of finance doesnt mean you not bright.
it means you stayed in the country that denied you the education due to lack of finance.

but definitely in this country which denied me the chance to do better in life, the status is actually stacking up the kudos for better health care.
so too is the personality.
the status,
the stuff that matters is now looking decidedly dodgy for your healthcare.

i never committed a criminal act in my entire life.
i never defrauded anyone.
i never tell lies, in fact i find that almost impossible to do because if i could i would if it got me out of a sticky.
i am not demure and placid.
i do not have an educational status of any great standing.

i have personality.
i am warm.
i laugh alot.
i talk alot
i cry heaps.
i give good hugs.
i care about people, all sorts of people and always have.
i educated myself and known to be equal in IQ despite not going to university to one who received a doctorate.
a bit like Oliver too, i said 'can i have some more' but in my case i used a far shorter phrase "NO"
and because i used that i got the Oliver treatment.

its crass too to think that the prejudices set out in ireland of today are from those that claim to be educated.
they are the 'disciplines' i speak of earlier but in the case i speak of - healthcare these disciplines are the OT's the Physios, the doctors and the Primary care teams.

these are supposed to be as a group the educated, the fortunate, the status bearers.
i see it differently.
they are in the main
cold
clinical
callous
uncaring.
never give a hug
and couldnt care a shit.

but they have status.
is it worth it, has it been worth it.

you too can be hated you know for all you call your status.
because with it came cruelty which the lowly blowsy, Olivers, of this world are putty and sensitive and caring.

i have rescued the suicidal, the alcoholics, the amputees, the distressed, the elderly, the blind and those in nursing homes.
i have done all this pretty consistently, which is a bit more than most would do but its not enough.

if you have personality, no money, no status, no cred, and no bonus plus you are actually just a piece of shit to the ones in the 'disciplines'
in other words i am fucked.
and i live in ireland.
shit hell i really am fucked.
night now, plenty to think of there.
the next time you decide to be florid and happy and all over the place, think twice, mother nanny is watching over you, and so is father prat and stern uncle doctor and the ones who mistake deafness for shouting, shouting for abuse and saying "NO" for rudeness.

I still call it a blowsy deaf personality who will not let the fucking prats tell me what to do.
thats cost me my healthcare so it has.

understanding what an aunt or uncle is

in order to try and understand what i mean by my post heading i will try to dream back and think back to the times i spent and enjoyed my relatives.

i feel i need to do this in the day now of individualism, not collectivism nor community but selfie love and selfie to selfie.

the rewards of having an aunty is amazing.
let me think back and it will be such fun.

Polly - Her real name was Aileen and she had a very large nose, curved like a beak, it seems a crass pet name but she knew why she had it.
we sang 'polly put the kettle on.'  that was, worse.
But Polly being Polly behaved as Polly, quiet, intellectual, bright and brimming with kindness.
she was a tiny lady and neatly dressed.  I admired her clothes, she chose well for a woman of her generation.
her hands as i remember were small and knarled.  with pointy nails as was the style.

she lived with my grandmother, a stern individual indeed.
the two quietly lived together in i think not the most blissful harmony but they did it in grace.
Polly sat by the window of a large and imposing house.  she lay on a chaise longue and read - a lot.
her hair was styled a bit like the present Queen of england.

i walked up her long dark avenue and the first think i would try to catch a glimpse of was Polly on her chaise lounge.
my joy was great because it was a pleasure.
just a pleasure to know my Polly.

she played a large grand piano, and i lay sometimes on the floor or sometimes by a massive fire grate stoking the embers.
i was offered a glass of sherry, much too young!

but it was the times she walked over the hill at the weekends, her time to sit with my family and enjoy us, if she could.
i remember her sitting on the sofa and i would go and get close and comfortable.
she stroked my head as i lay it in her lap, and there i held still never wishing for her to go away or remove her beautiful hand.  she smelt nice, comfortable safe and loving.
I adored my aunty.
she gave me something my mother couldnt god bless her.
she gave me touch, feeling, love and consideration.

i was the last to see her alive and i went to the morgue and sat there as a young person in my twenties.
i put a daffodil into her clasped arms.  i had promised she would be alive to see them in the garden.
it wasnt to be so.
i walked away bereft and deeply wounded by her death.
i never wanted it to happen.
she was to me my surrogate ma.

she snuck up once when i was in bed on christmas day.  there i was halluncinating from glandular fever.  i could hardly see a thing and i then saw my Polly, she came into me and i was dazed.  she didnt say alot but just that she had come to pull a cracker with me, so i didnt feel left out.
she sat beside me, i am sure we talked.

she gave me my first record.  An EP with goldilocks and the three bears on one side and i cinderella on the other, stories being recited.
Dad had carried me downstairs wrapped up in a heavy blanket, sick again, during summer time.
i went beside my aunty and lay as i loved to and listened excitedly to a record.  all mine.

John was an Uncle.
i visited him too as he was just down the road.
not a lot i am afaid but i did.
i knew him in is elder years.  he never said much and was extremely quiet indeed.
he lived in a tiny bungalow and slightly work shy but he had a good job. at the end of his life he was very paralysed by a stroke which took out his whole side and his speech.
i felt so badly for him.

but what IS a relative and what do they mean to another in the family.

a relative is a person who can be anything other than a narky sister or parent.
they can look at a problem with completely fresh eyes and thoughts, they have no agenda, no wish for worse or better, just to be wise and helpful.
but also they can love not like a sister, brother, friend or mother.
they are not supposed to be anything like that, they are the aunty.

to talk wisely too and know that they feel equal and can relate to you well.
they may also be able t be mighty supportive and kind.

the running nephews and nieces of today are running so fast they can be in spain and portugal and uk all in the same month.
when we were young we never got out at all.
but to the runners for fun really there is plenty at home.
the joy of travel is but transitory. it is fun.  it isnt solid sense and stalwart reliables.
the aunty can be there.
to speak freely with and to.  and the aunty doesnt tell porkies, doesnt tell others, just relates in a different and willing style.

Now what about that Aunty?

the aunty misses her nephews and neices.
because relatives do that.
they had grown up in an era of community and benevolence when all shared thoughts, goals and feelings and even if the parental home was harmful the aunts home wasnt nor the grans

missing your older aunty now for the young ones is missing a slice of who you are and where you came from.
that picture of roundedness and completeness.

to understand that a living individual who is your relative loves you must be wonderful.
the relative too, may be a maiden aunt.  with no children of her own and divorced from family life almost entirely.
lonliness can be deeper without the sense of who you are nd to see your young relatives as in the nephews and neices and their children.
to always be around a yung person is the order of the day.
to me the fear of loss that the present young generation are shoring up for themselves is everyone's duty.
to be a friend of an aunty is different but no different to a sister or brother.
and all aunties need that link, no matter what.

I walked automatically up the garden path to my aunti and her mother.
i met them both with glee and promise
i filled up with joy.

the same could happen, but i see my family rarely.
i feel lost and waiting to die
its never nice to be this alone.

but for the nephew and neice who do exist, i never keep thehe door not opened

my path to the door and that window seat is not nearly as long and arduous as to my old aunty and granny.
come visit son and daughter, for that really who they are, just someone elses' and mine on loan for that time i have to offer the different perspective and offer a laugh and a bit of relative relaxation.

but sometimes son come armed with a spanner or a spade, i am not young and i am unwell.
i would welcome you open arms.
lay the spade down aside and the coffee will be brewed, i do a good one.
i shall sit and listen and we can face each other kindly as we have done, but not often.

its not a waste of your day.
it a bonus to your day and your experience.
the fading of youth will come to you as well, no matter how long you try to prolong it.
unless the bonds of family are made one day you will sit and suddenly say'oh shit' there is no one i can really speak to this about.
when that time comes you are near the end.
when that time comes then the aunty can be at her best believe it or not.

curiosity will take over.
the eyes will wander and also away from your difficulties.

the aunt can have a coffee and a bit of cake.

i met a HSE official yesterday- i met pain and tears today

it was a tough meeting with a top level official of the HSE.
it was arranged by my local TD and neighbour Simon Harris  and i am grateful for that.

but as many commentators said to me afterwards, lets see 'the delivery' after such a meeting before you decide whether you can truly say you either like them or are going to trust them.

i liked her.
but i have been warned again today 'we are dealing with a large organization'

we also have to remember that the Organization in question is dubious.
but its all we have.
and not all are rotten to the core, though i doubt we will ever know who we can trust and who we can
but certainly some retain that belief they had when they went into healthcare that they could make a difference to sick people.

today my mood went into 'free fall.'
it was pissing down outside so it didn't help.

another organision rang me with almost a contemptuous voice and i got terribly upset.

she tries to help as best she can i think

once my friends i didn't have all this.
what i had was LIFE as you know it and others know it and as my twin once knew it.

why does it all change when you become sick and getting sicker.
why do the carers care the least.
why do the family run in the opposite direction.
and why too does no one bother to see PAIN, as if its infectious.

i think by meeting up with a chronically ill person can put things in perspective and build up personal trust that if this ever happened you you could do it well, you could be a decent sickie or even a better sickie but living and learning means you will have to meet and learn from being around at least one sickie.
the feeling of us as having nothing to offer is bullshit.
for  the healthy we remind people of our fraility.
we ask them to question their lives and also to consider one word which is vital.

what is my life
what is the purpose.

i see i didnt have all of my front teeth so this wasnt yesterday but a while back they crawled all over methey do not now as rarely i am able for this type of thing, i get far too tired and too much pain asks these friends even to just be a little away but not too far

if i have now gone over nine years with no living at all then why should i end in this awful stuck grove of pain and fraught relationships simply because a state organisation and its one of its members wronged me and i find myself living anywhere but where i should be because of them.
she was a nice lady but the ones above are the people who drive home policy and it can be cold and uncaring as right now the hse is so bothered about the cost cutting its not selective what they are doing
in saying all this, i hate being sick.

Meaningfulness, Happiness and the HSE

I am hopeful a time will come when this organisation will be just one of the many things i have to deal with.
I am hopeful a time will come when my personal life isn't consumed by the HSE, dictated by the HSE and tortured by the HSE.

Killiney Hill - where i walked with my Dad from a young age, this is my "Spiritual Home"
this is where i feel really good and at one with God

When i look from the top of the world, i AM on top of the world!
Killiney Hill to Dun Laoghaire and Howth - and all between
my Land-MY HOME!

i do not use the word torture lightly.
remember i am an educated lady realising torture in the world today is endemic.  I am not so lacking in empathy that my experiences are on a power to Syria, Isis, Palestine nor any other war torn country.
that said, its as equal to be told 'thank your blessings, you could be...' or 'you look well, think of those who have .....disease'
the latter sentence is futile in responding to distress.

I am educated enough to know, we live in a vacuum to a degree as we each try to live out our lives where we were intended to be, in my case the Ireland of today.
therefore all things relative, my experience of torture is...the HSE.

this is relevant to me as any other nation has their own troubles.
but its not the same type of torture, its just relevant to issues of the individual in any present time and space, country and age.

I am tortured

I see a time i will walk again - with a powered "all terrain" wheelchair.
I see this time as being 'Allowed' to live again

but i see a time when i will not be tortured but free.

Lets use another analogy here.  I feel i am placed on Robin Island.
i am not in a box of a cell but i am in a cell placed in no mans land to me.
i am here because i was shot at.  that isn't easy, to be removed from all i had loved dearly and could reach nearly if i was this sick and unable to do anything other than  a fifteen minute drive to a given destination and take out a fab wheelchair and throttle along environments that meant the world to me.

instead i am on this island that if i got into the van i would have to think carefully.  to get any where 'meaningful' for a person who receives the voice and soul from the environment i would have to drive some distance first.
i am not well enough to do this.

Meaning in life means far more than happiness, oh no this was alerted to me by a post on the faithful facebook a loved and hated medium.
but meaning is to me, to engage with familiarity and goodness and to have a purpose and be a useful, giving human being.

not being on an island hoping and waiting to return to my place, that place where the soul laps in the waves and sounds and rebounds in memories, cherished land of a spiritual ideal, for an individual who laps up life through familiar places, sounds and the people i knew well.

some find retirement and downsizing to a different county not easy but are able for it.
their ways of getting that meaning is actually through all they had done through before, usually family, friendships and maybe reading, the garden a bit of walking and a bit of socialising.

i have none of these.
i engaged in the land on a higher level because the 'human' was not there for me.
i engaged in empathy on a greater level with strangers who were disadvantaged or similar because sometimes people do this not so much to compensate but because the 'feeling of empathy is far greater if you do not have the distraction of family, friendships and your own kit and kin.

being who you are is pretty much dictated by who you are, the person you are but also by choice.

you chose to live a certain way.
if you are inclined to be greedy from an early age you will usually have this as your life path by choice, few turn from that and begin a life of gaining and destroying, some do not do it in wild ways such as our friend from Waterford whispers, but some do it in that subtle way within small groups and even within family.
but charge ahead for the moolah and they will and suppress all they need to they will.

to me, to earn money didn't come that easily.
i was an artist in the 70's and a troubled one.
so money wasn't the attachment i had and i never did really, for money was not around when growing up.
attaining a place in society, an attachment to people was a necessary and when i drifted far from the people i gain more from the land.

but now another wondrous thing about me being, i am a survivor.
none would fully appreciate this unless you were faced with a wall of aggression and repression and none would find it deep within unless they are that survivor.
i am it, and i only realised this when faced with the oppressor.
the HSE.

talent and belief in yourself are all discoveries by experiences.
did i ever think for a minute that i would reach outside that lonely box of just a studio and a dog to buy a home, engage with architect, solicitors, surveyors when all told me i was good for nothing, no.
did i ever think that i would be able to manage an independent life without the forces of medicine shoring me up forever daily, no i didn't.
i did not know who i was until i had crohns surgery and nearly died.

i did not know i was so brim full of strength until i faced the HSE demanding i do things that i intrinsically knew in my heart were wrong and i didn't want to do.
designing my home to the plan of a HSE official anonymous to this day was not something i took lightly.
i fought back.
but to fight in this manner was not something i was born to do.
i am a peaceful person.
i do not like it, so when i say i need my meaningful life and times back, i sincerely mean, i need it

but when the HSE consume your every moment on paper, in voice, in letters, emails and meetings, i need to fight the demon and start to re-enter that zone that i fully realise i can be a better person and a more useful person to society.

the fight of the HSE is demeaning, soul destroying and perverse.
unless the HSE begin to understand their own brief in history and in ideology we are on collision course and everyone who is hurt by the HSE is also.

remember the HSE fully know that the dynamic they engage in is familiar to them, but also its familiar to everyone else too.
they can have the Legal department which must cost millions a year to have because more and more people are facing up to their personal damage by the hse.
the HSE know that to make sure that they are protected they need this legalise, because the hurt, the wounded and the betrayed and destroyed are facing them daily in a discourse they never knew they would have to engage in.
but now they have to face one fact.
THE EMPEROR IS WEARING NO CLOTHES
...and OLIVER IS IN THAT CORNER AND WILL PUT UP HIS BOWL TO THE JOWLS OF THE OFFICIAL AND SAY, 'PLEASE SIR,'
and more besides.

I cannot be the person who can partake in a meaningful way in life if the HSE is 'in my face' in such an abhorrent way.
i must disengage from the war.
the fight.
i have a few meetings shortly with this organisation from utter hell.
i ask all who are kindly out there who read my blog to think of me and pray for me in the next few months.
i will be away in a hospital in a different country for a while, with a rare disease i need this too.
i will be back again for - the HSE in a huge encounter after ten years of unrelenting disagreeable engagement with the HSE.
i also meet hopefully in peace and good will with a high official shortly and this has to be placed where it is, non aggression and with all the faith i have in myself and others to successfully have a meeting that sees an empathic engagement of acknowledgement of hurt and damage and then to see the 'person' that person who was a singular, lonely isolated figure who tried to help others within their own community.

the idea of this meeting is to express part of who i am, not the perception others have of me but the real Ann with her whole unhappy life but a fulfilled life, a meaningful life.
i want the HSE to take no more from me and my chances to be who i rightfully should be, a giver to others, not an aggressor to a large organisation who soul destroys at the first chance it gets.

we of course are not speaking of those working on the ground immediately in the community.
they are as beaten down as their clients, i feel this.
we are talking of managers, organisational operators who dictate.
who never understand sickness and hardly ever hit it.

I want to laugh with the fishermen again.
i want to watch the seals eat the scraps they throw down by the steps at Bullock Harbour, where my mother took me to buy fish for the Catholic Fridays'

blessed be them that fight the good fight and win.
blessed be them that know their strength and what their life has meant and where they will find meaningfulness within it, even with a life shortening illness, the purpose is to do give til the end for that is my purpose and i see the rest as utterly meaningless.

When i return to my home i shall be creative - do what i am best at doing, peaceful calm and space in my head for better thingand pray to god i get home quickly to where i belong, Dun Laoghaire, my soul land without a doubt my soul land.

when i am home again i shall sit there quietly and dream of what once was and think back only as a dream on 'the cruelty visited upon me, when i was captured in entirety by a very large health care organisation.
i shall swiftly remember ah, but I am home again and shall be in peace once more