Future

For what it’s worth, I did the final stages of the blue badge today, it will save some money in the hospital and I suppose it will make it easier for everyone else. It’s all in the hands of the council, so it’s down to them when it arrives.

I can’t do too much more for the auction; everything is pretty much going to be as it will be. There’s about 16 items that I’ve got so far, with more promised and not given (sounds familiar….,) plus Tony says that he has more..but no idea what they, if anything, they are.

The unoffical target is close, but I doubt it will be hit before the auction..it may do though. No targets have been put on anything thinking about it; less dissapointment in everyone’s life if there’s nowhere to aim towards.

Sally says she is sending out some T-Shirts with the promo stuff for Tony to put on while he is doing the auctioneering, so hopefully some pictures will make it onto the site and people who didn’t bother with the Facebook invite/page/anything (they know who they are) will see sense and donate. In the promotional thing, I hope some more pots are included….I’m still waiting, even after several messages, to get one back; it might have no money inside but there might not. I have no way of knowing until it gets returned.

Strikes

I’m glad the auction is near; it gives something to focus on. It doesn’t always haopen that way and there’s certainly a lot of ‘why do I bother’ thoughts running through my head but all in all, if the night sends people away thinking of my mortality then all is good.

I don’t anticipate much more than Christmas if I’m putting a timescale on it. The hospital have said longer but taking the symptoms and how they have progressed into account, I’ll be surprised if I last the year.

I’m not booking anything past the date they have given me for obvious reasons; it seens pointless, as does buying anyrhing to ‘keep’. What’s the point? It’ll only need to be disposed of or sold, so it’s either given away or not brought. For the sake of the money I’ve written myself out of the Birmingham Half; it’s only £30 and more hassle doing something about it than leaving it and not being there. It’s hardly like I’m going to be missed…..and I doubt at the run either.

Cloth

It’s getting worse, all of the symtoms seem to be getting worse and it’s getting harder to do things. Walking is near impossible to do without support or taking my time from the kitchen to the chair. They say it’s nearer months, but I hope it’s soon; I can’t see the point in having me hang on like I am, getting worse.

Tango

‘Months rather than years’ is a phrase I’ll be hearing a lot; it’s the default answer they will be able to give in terms of my prognosis. I keep asking them as I need to know.

The bleed isn’t doing much but the tumour is growing, so that’s why I’m getting worse. The leg, arm and pain received are the main things that get the brunt of everything; but I’m used to how things are, it would be strange if I felt normal again.

It’s getting harder to walk and I’ve started to use a chair…..well, get pushed around. It’s one of the final stages as it admits defeat to my  physical side; I just can’t manage more than a few hundred metres without having to stop or rest. I know it’s the best way, but it’s still a long way off where I should be.

Sunset

It might be the heat, food, tablets or everrything combined that’s causing it; but I can’t walk normally. I managed ok on Mandy & Mark’s barge…but there’s only a few steps and I spent most of the time sitting down, I got home and I could barely go anywhere without having a wobbly episode. I’ve only got to wait until Tuesday when I find out the results of the scan, they say the bleed is too much and they cut everything including the prognosis. Well, I can hope anyway…..

Office

It’s too hard to walk anywhere anymore; sitting down takes the pain from the legs but it’s always in my head. I don’t know whether it’s the tumour or the bleed that causes it, but I suppose it’s not too long before I find out. Hopefully all of my questions get answered…and prognosis is one of them…

I’ve a chair. The first time I have to use it in public is going to be hell; too much ‘look at me’; no-one will be saying it, but they will be thinking it. If it’s said I won’t be sure how I’m going to react..it’s been a while and there’s a hell of a lot building inside of me.

Begin again

This weekend has been the worst one so far; I barely made it around the boot sale and Tamworth, no amount of pretending could disguise the fact that I’m deteriatorating massively. The same today in Birmingham, I can’t act anymore; the legs are on their way out it seems. I’ve been wobblier than before and it’s just a matter of time before I go over.

If I could start again, knowing what I do, there woukd be those who would be treated exactly as they have been and the story will remain the same. A whole host of people will never have been spoken to and even known of.

For the second day, a chair has been mentioned, so everyone else must be noticicing the walking. I swore that I wouldn’t go that route unless needs be….and it’s becoming that way.

Fun

It’s kind of funny that all this has happened to me; I find myself staring at myself and laughing at how I was placed in this situation. Most people wouldn’t get this kind of thing once, let alone twice, but lucky me.

So much stuff is out of my reach now and will be for the rest of my life. It’s getting too much to walk everywhere without aid and there’s no way until I crumble that I will even consider a chair. Swimming, driving, cooking, walking….. pretty much everything that normal people can do, I can’t and never will ever again.

Milk

My leg isn’t getting any better; all the way around Tretham I was stopping. It could have been the heat but there’s more chance of it being Clive or bleed related. My head has been constantly hurting at the back, which is neither Clive nor bleed location so it could just be dehydration. I’m drinking more to compensate but it doesn’t seem to have any effect.

The letter from Toogood to the Dr’s goes on about talking to someone, which as I said to him, it’s not something worth doing. What’s the point? They know I haven’t got long and I know I haven’t got long, it’s just a matter of knowing roughly when.

Within the next few weeks I will be nearer getting things sorted for the auction; hopefully it will have some lasting effect after I’ve gone, but it would be nice to get a good amount before I do. And if one fucking person calls me ‘inspirational’, I’ll fucking kill them; I hate that word for so many reasons.

Modern

I can’t keep the act up. I really don’t want to carry on as things are at the moment; what’s the point. I can barely walk, can’t work or drive or get around without relying on other people. They say they don’t mind but deep down they wish they hadn’t. I would only be missed by a few, as proven by the past year, and that’s a couple of hundred days away yet. I hope it’s sooner.

The tablets and morphine don’t seem to do anything…maybe the pain is too much for the dose or I’m just used to it; either way it’s only a fortnight to wait, maybe they’ll give more or up it to something else. They had best make some changes though, it’s too much effort pretending it’s all ‘ok’ or ‘fine’. I’m not.