Life has been so dire these last 6 weeks.
Every time there’s been a glimmer of light, a torrential storm has immediately gathered and not so much rained on my parade but swept all the people in it into shark infested pool where they get slowly eaten alive.
Suicide has been so fing close it’s crazy.
When it’s like that I can’t help but want last contact with my daughters ( more than anyone else ). It’s just how it is. I want to say goodbye to just those 2 people.
When the sun comes out again just a little ( as it again has via antibiotics and 7 hours sleep ) then I realise how pointless that last wish actually is.
Why would I crave contact with people who are indifferent to what happens to me? Illogical, right? Or at least if I want some last solace in some way then I’ll definitely die unfulfilled.
So, logical me is born again from the brink.
The urologist I’d picked at total random to see yesterday just miraculously happened to be Julian Shah. He ran / headed the urology department at Stanmore Hospital for the paralysed for 30 years.
There’s no one on this earth more qualified in knowing what to do to help me.
Finally someone that will actually help. You see I know what treatment I need, more or less, but as he said, finding medics that will actually do what is necessary to help my very specialist condition is virtually impossible.
I currently have to verbally argue with my GP to get antibiotics. He gives me every reason under the sun to not give me the drugs to treat me. It’s insane. He is so obsessed by caution and spurious side effects that he’d rather I go without ( have a uti and die at my own hand ) than just supply the medication.
Mr Shah is going to write a long letter and put this situation right. From now on the right things should happen.
Thank F for that.
This morning I had the most disastrous of ‘bathroom calamities’. I literally couldn’t believe what happened. By myself and with no help available to assist.
I don’t know how I managed to clean it up, by myself. I amaze myself with what I can do with one hand and a metal grabber in terms of cleaning up a bathroom equivalent of a mass murder in a small room.