Thinking back, it’s been a shit few months.
Actually, that’s not true. By and large everything is great. There’s just one thing that isn’t, and this one thing is overarching, affecting everything and everyone around me.
You see, I’m waiting to have surgery, as some part of my old and decrepit spine is pushing on somewhere it shouldn’t, and often my arm or hands become useless. Usually my left. Which is splendid as I’m left-handed.
If I don’t have surgery I could become quadriplegic. Actually, that’s also a side-effect of the surgery so it’s safe to say I’ve been bricking it a bit.
Sometimes I get pins and needles in my arm and hands. Those are the good days. Sometimes it feels like fireworks are going off at the end of my wrist but not in a good way. Sometimes I spasm so hard I pour boiling water over myself while making a cup of coffee. Sometimes I’m unable to cut food, so I just don’t eat. Those are the bad days.
Holding up my head hurts but then again, my head just hurts. This could be due to my spinal cord being compressed. Apparently.
Twisting hurts. Standing hurts. Sitting hurts. Sleeping hurts. Everything hurts, and everyone around me is acutely aware I’m in acute pain, and one thing I’ve not been recently is cute. I’m horrible, and I’m horrible to be with.
I’m quite often spaced out on a mixture of pain relief that’d knock out a horse. I’m tired. I’m fed up. I’m tired of being fed up. I’m in constant pain. I’m irritable. I rarely go out (Of course I don’t go out. Who would want to spend time with someone who’s all that?). I’m no fun.
And before you tell me to be positive as I’m not actually as bad off as others, I’m aware I’m not the worst off person in the world. For example, we have friends who are struggling with the effects of cancer, we have friends whose five month old daughter has undergone heart surgery and my partner’s father died; what have I got to moan about?
Thing is, I’m allowed to vent my spleen here, in this space, aren’t I? Well, I am until Anna tells me otherwise, and if you don’t like it you don’t have to read it. Besides, I don’t really want to talk to those around me about all this. They have problems of their own. Me droning on might just push them over the edge.
Writing has always been my form of therapy, but I’ve not written my column for ZMG for a while because, simply, I’ve not been able to. I haven’t written because my hands haven’t been working.
So I’ve been sad. At times unutterably so.
But, dear reader, I now have a piece of speech recognition software that does some writing stuff for me. It works, so now I can. All commissions gratefully received obviously.
The software functions well, more than some bits of me do, and after some training it can now pick up most of my speech, even the swearing. I’m delighted to say it can tell the difference between a fuck and some bollocks, and God knows we all need something that does that.
So this is a thank you for those who’ve picked up the slack when I’ve been unable to, and a very big thank you to those who’ve put up with me, rather than leaving me out for the bin men to take away.
You know who you are. And you’re awesome.
Thanks for reading.