Imagine living in a place where someone says hello to you, and smiles in the morning.

Imagine living in a place where someone helps you with a smile, to get into bed, when you are unable by yourself.

Imagine a world where your family  speak to you and are kind by default.

Imagine a world where every visitor is armed with a smile.

Imagine a world where your every word isn’t questioned and scrutinised.

Imagine a world where you don’t always feel awkward asking for help, and that it’s freely given upon request.

Imagine a world where hours pass without a sad thought.

Imagine a home where you can rely on there being a friend at hand, who is consistently true to their word.

Just imagine.

‘BTW, yes the boat race and most other live events are televised with a delay for exactly the reason you thought x’

As my own journey through this life continues, the differences between my old life and my new one continue to occur to me.

The old one was based around extreme physical activity, social interaction with alcohol, work, having laughs with my children, more exercise,  and not sleeping very much. That life probably wouldn’t have changed. It had been that way for as long as I can remember ( with the exception of the addition of children ), it was a life that seemed full and one that didn’t need altering.

When i look back now, armed with new realisations based on new experiences, what I now realise was missing was what I now consider to be the most important thing of all. What was missing was one ingredient that I I myself hadn’t given true importance to. Without this sounding too much like a sermon in church, what I now realise was missing was love. I wasn’t aware particularly of being on the receiving end of it, nor had realised the incredible satisfaction in giving it. Without naming anyone, I now have people in my life who are so selfless, so true, that have such pure devotion, without the need for recompense, that it makes me reassess all that has gone before, and makes me wish that I’d had a different life to the one that I had, that I’d devoted some of myself to a  deeper existence.

I see people very differently now, compared to before. The Good People stand out very clearly, the people who make  the time to devote themselves to selfless acts, though in doing so realise that that is where true satisfaction lies.

The thing is, this thing called love is available to everyone. It’s free, and it’s everywhere. You just have to open your mind.

This post is dedicated to the people in my life who are deserving of it.

Having been told that my operation had been cancelled, I wrote to my surgeon ( well, emailed him ) detailing all of the reasons FOR the op.  I understand the reasons AGAINST the procedure ( potential infection if I need further metalwork surgery ) but I felt that he didn’t really appreciate the negative effects that a 3 month delay might have. That 3 month shift was a significant movement of the goalposts, and left the door wide open to further delay.

When i attended my appointment yesterday, I listened carefully to his assessment of the state of my spine and the attached metalwork. A fair bit of bone had grown around most of the screws, making it more secure. Nothing had moved at all.

Then we talked about the colon operation. He reiterated his concerns, and had obviously read my email. He then concluded, to my surprise,  by saying that if I really wanted this procedure, then he wouldn’t object… and even tried to get the operation reinstated ( it was supposed to be today ).  As it was, he couldn’t, but it’s now the case that it’ll only be 2 or 3 weeks that I have to wait, and not 3 months, and definitely not 6 more months.

To me, that is extremely good news 🙂

My spine surgeon has dictated to his colon surgeon colleague that he ought to wait another 3 months, just in case ( very minute chance ) my fixation breaks and he has to rectify it, before he drills any stoma holes in me.

This means that I don’t see the light of day before 12 o’clock for 3 more months. I think that to my spinal surgeon this is no big deal? To me, it’s bloody torment. I wonder how he would feel if he was bed bound until midday every day, without particularly strong medical grounds for such an imposition. It makes going away for even one night a logistical nightmare , unless I have a trained carer to accompany me – something that’s both expensive, and a spontaneity killer.

I meet up with him tomorrow to ‘ discuss ‘.

I’m not a gambler, or at least not with money. I don’t feel the lure of a slot machine, or poker, or any online betting game and I never have.

Once a year though, I do have a bet, and it’s on The Grand National. I’m not into horses, or horse racing ( or for that matter any type of racing that’s not human powered ). Every year without fail, I lose £50 on the race. I put bets on for my girls, and for me. This year I thought I’d do it differently and  we’d have a sweepstakes. I told the girls that I’d put £50 in, if they put £10 each in. That last bit was fairly unpopular…. Amber said ‘ what, does that mean I might LOSE TEN POUNDS ? Yes, Amber it does… but you may WIN SIXTY POUNDS….  I then said ‘ ok, you can put just £1 each in, and I’ll put £5 ?’  That was even more unpopular, so my initial offer was passed.

I cut out the horses’ names from the paper, and we each pulled 14 from the hat, with Amber getting the one left over, as well. There hadn’t been a whole lot of excitement until then… but once the race had started, it was pandemonium. I don’t think the girls could have stood any closer to the telly, or screamed any louder, or jumped up and down any more than they did.

It was probably the best 10 minutes that I can remember, in the last 3 and a half years.  Needless to say, the chief pre race moaner and pessimist won the £70, then declaring herself as ‘ the lucky one of the family ‘ ?

She sent this picture to us shortly afterwards, with the charming message ‘ Get wrecked, Faggots’ …

I’m not sure what that is supposed to mean, but it WAS sent with a cheeky grin…

The NHS doctor kindly visited at 1.30 this morning, and after a bit of a chat gave me Amoxiclav 500mg, which is a Penicillin antibiotic. Whether this will prove to be totally effective remains to be seen, but I’m glad that I’m on something. I’m drinking gallons of water, eating a lot of fruit , and haven’t had any alcohol for a week or so, which should help. I did spasm a lot in the night, but I took a sleeping tablet which meant that I had a half decent period of shut eye.

It’s so apparent that a UTI affects my mood. Last night, as the infection was raging, all was bad in the world. Today, after the first 3 very large tablets, my spirits are lifting. These emotions are not within my control, and I seem at the mercy of the bacteria that choose to infest me.

With impeccable timing, I seem to have almost certainly got another bloody UTI. I have all the signs and symptoms. I’ve called 111 and a doctor will call me back. I need antibiotics, but they don’t normally supply those without a urine test to confirm the type of infection.

The operations on Wednesday would be cancelled too, which is just incredibly frustrating. Again I feel as though I’m cursed.

Today I go for a CT scan, to see if any of the metalwork inside me has shifted. Tomorrow is 6 months since the last bit of  installation, and that’s seen as the point where if it hasn’t come apart already, then it probably won’t.  It’s funny, our human calendar, with stuff like this. Everything is 6 months, or one year, or sometimes two years. Why should 6 months be the interval? Exactly half of one Earth year? Why ? Why shouldn’t it be 243 days, or 200 days, or some other more scientifically based interval?

Anyway, all will be revealed later on. Did it all hold, or did bits pull out? If the latter, then it’s a bit of a disaster, and months more in hospital to come. I’m in hospital over Easter, from the 12th until the 19th, after which I’ll be sporting a special bag, discreetly placed. I bet there are designer versions, but I’ll go for the Poundland equivalent if there are any, obviously.

Yesterday I actually tested somebody’s eyes – a friend. She’d been struggling to see properly with her correction and I was certain that I could diagnose the issue, and remedy it, which I did. Although I can’t do all of the tests, i can get a colleague to do the bits that I can’t. It’s all a bit slow, as I can’t bend or turn to do things quickly, but I managed to sort out the prescription problem, which is what I’ve always been best at, and it would seem still am.

Aside from getting very cold on the way back, I enjoyed the visit to the RGS.

‘The speaker, the Renowned yachtsman Conrad Humphreys describes his team’s re-creation of one of the greatest voyages ever – Captain Bligh’s 4,000 mile journey – in a replica open boat, with similar rations and traditional equipment’  the website said, and it was fairly true. The différence was that they were always within 200 metres of a rescue ship, and were helped whenever they got into trouble, which for me changes the complexion a fair bit, but perhaps I’m being harsh… or I thought perhaps I was until Conrad mentioned that back in 1789, most of Bligh’s boat mates died within weeks of reaching their destination….. somewhat proving that they had it a fair bit harder than in the re-creation?  Also Conrad admitted that he hadn’t found it very hard himself, something that I doubt those that survived to make it back ultimately to England would have said.

My mysterious night sweats continue, last night yet again. Perhaps it’s just that I now drink so much water every day, it has no option other than to pour through my skin once I’m horizontal?

Tomorrow, as well as my now daily gym visit and legal endeavours, I go to a gig in a pub a few miles away. Bus travel now  being my conveyance of choice, I’m becoming fairly familiar with bus numbers. I’m not sure why everyone doesn’t go by bus, at least for some journeys, as it’s all so accessible to pretty much everyone, in London at least.

Without having been injured, i dont think that I’d ever have discovered that?