Samantha Says Things

Fear not, I didn’t say that. If anything, students with giant handbags hogging the disabled seats piss me off when getting the bus, or people having migraine / coma inducing conversations on their phones. 

I was just standing in the bus doors, waiting to get on, as the people in front of me were asking the driver questions and I couldn’t smoosh past them. There were two utter gobshite teenage girls behind me, and I’m pretty sure that’s what one of them said, before they launched into a discussion on how annoying slow people are. 

Yes, I’ve got a walking stick. Yes, I’m frustratingly slow (believe me, it infuriates me more than it will ever, ever annoy you - I want to get shit done, thanks). Yes, my head is lolling about like I’m an overdosing extra in Trainspotting. Yes, my speech is slurred. I admit to all these things - I’m really fucking tired from filling in a benefit form, with the help of a lovely lady at Citizens Advice (another story). It only took an hour, but delving into all the depressing details and trying to string a sentence together is hard work when you’re poorly.

The sad thing is, I’m so tired, I had no response, or even rage, about the comments (that I’m pretty certain I heard correctly). A year ago, if I heard someone speaking like that, in public, in earshot of someone who might be upset by such comments, I would call them out on being cunts. I’d have told them that I hope if they are ever in such a situation, they don’t come across people like themselves. 

I’m sad that my emotions did nothing, that I just didn’t care, I just wanted to get on that bloody bus and get home to bed, where I am now, thinking about how lame it is that I wasn’t bothered. 

I’m off to sleep. That eight hours sleep last night wasn’t enough to tide me through until tonight.

Sorry if this is gibberish, I’m so drowsy I can’t see straight.

The results are in!

1. I have an impressive vitamin D deficiency. There are two types of it that they look for in blood. They couldn’t even detect one of the types in mine. Gonna have me an injection for that which should help out with my immense weakness..

2. .. As it turns out, predictably, that I have ME (Myalgic Encephalo… something or other). BORRRRING. Untreatable. Got a big bundle of information to read, which reads, oddly enough, like a  project I did on the topic for my degree. I will be referred to a clinic at my local hospital, where they will teach me about pacing, graded exercise.. all the shit that I’ve been trying to do for years anyway. I might be sent for more CBT, but I doubt the local NHS trust will fund that bugger, cos I’ve had years of it already.

How about instead of spending money on all that shit that I know and do already, the government don’t turn my benefits off? How about they give me Disability Living Allowance, so I can pay someone to help around the house before I die of filthmongering? So I can go OUT and not lose the plot?

I got congratulated on my weight loss, and told that my sudden huge weight gain this week probably is water retention, as my feet and everything are all swollen.

I’ve been too weak to hold a paintbrush for a week, but going to have a meal shortly and try again.

I WON’T flop over and give up. 

I WILL carry on paying my gym membership, because not thinking “I might be well enough to go for a swim tomorrow” would make me utterly mental.

I WILL get a sodding Kindle, as, after playing with Kat’s, I’ve found that it’s lighter and easier to hold than books, and I can make the writing big and that for tired eyes.

I WILL be sensible about migraine control, and keep the blinds, sadly, closed, on these sunny days, as strong light is my biggest trigger.

I WON’T panic like fuck that I might not be able to do my final year at uni, let alone a MSc or PhD after.

I WILL get up and go do this wee I’ve been holding in for an hour because I can’t face shuffling to the loo, before I end up doing it on the sofa.

Hehe. All in all, I guess it could be worse, at least I have the hope that the vitamin therapy will help :).

1. My new toothbrush is so powerful, my chin was bleeding when I was done using it. I didn’t even touch my chin with it. My teeth feel amazing. My best friend is mocking me for spending more than £1 on a toothbrush, but I’ll be having the last toothy laugh when I have all my own teeth at 300 years of age. Just hope the ultra-sonic-ness of it doesn’t give me a stroke before than.

2. Lips (face-lips) can get sunburnt. I carefully applied sun protection to my face before heading out today, but didn’t even think of putting anything on my lips. My lips feel how I might expect them to when I am doing the toothy laugh in #1. I have to get some lip protection tomorrow. My smoking gives me a decent enough chance at face cancer already, without the multiplying effects of the sun.

3. I get sunburnt in under 10 minutes outdoors in the UK summertime. I might have protected my face today, but I thought my body would be ok as I was going to the pub, to sit indoors, and watch the grand prix. Well, I was wrong. I spent 10 minutes waiting at the bus stop (no shade, no seat, just a vast expanse of pavement: it’s an honour, Manchester City Council, this is not what I don’t pay all that council tax for!*). I covered myself up with clothing, but it seems this wasn’t enough. In bed, slightly tacky-skinned with Aloe Vera goo. 

4. Nothing else, really, I just felt 3 things weren’t really that impressive so I put the #4 down too. Umm. I dribbled toothpaste down my front and into my bra, so I guess I learnt that I am even less of a dignified toothbrusher with my new brush than my old one.

* student, innit, not just a refusal to pay tax. I did pay council tax for 6 years or so in Manchester, as a proper adult, though.

Don’t want to go to bed, even though I’m so tired I feel sicky, because when I wake up, it’s hospital day, and hospital day may well suck crinkly saggy old man balls.

Still, it will be nice to have a diagnosis. Although that may still be too much to ask!

Dead excited, because I’ve noticed I’ve had a bursary payment. I noticed this just before I brushed my teeth tonight, with my broken toothbrush. I SNAPPED! I reserved a fancy toothbrush in Argos, one I’ve wanted for years. YOU WILL BE MINE. I will have teeth so stunning that the dentist sighs in a dreamy fashion every time she looks in my chops, and wonders how she will fund her pension.

I can’t fucking sleep now, of course. That I fell asleep for 4 hours in the evening (thus missing Friday night social times) doesn’t help.

I’m off to do a sudoku (I’ve decided I can justify buying the Guardian on a Friday, motherfucking expensive paper, as it has reviews of stuff I might want to enjoy / avoid, and a hard sudoku, as well as, you know, news and shit) and watch a documentary about, I think, a fish market in London. 

How no gent has snapped me up and made me his wife already, I do not know. 

PS. Nap hints and tips - don’t listen to Dr Who on BBC Radio 4 Extra while you snooze, because the noises in it will incorporate themselves in your filthy dream and make it even weirder. 

PPS. I haven’t spent my entire bursary on a toothbrush, that would be beserk. I’ve spent.. lemme see.. about 4% of it on one.

I’ve had to lie down a LOT today, as I overdid it yesterday by having a coffee in town* and sitting in the community garden**. 

Every minute or so, the voices of First Officer Douglas Richardson and Martin Crieff rattle around my brain shouting “BORRRRRRRRRRRRRRED”. 

So very, very, boring.

* Proud moment - I went in Krispy Kreme with a chum and didn’t eat anything terribly bad for me. However, this pride appeared before one of those metaphorical falls, as for my tea last night I was so tired I had a crisp sandwich, and it turns out, white bread makes me very, very ill indeed. 

** I sat by the pond and looked at some baby frogs and grown up frogs. In the middle of the city! Look!