LEGS ON WHEELS ' LABELLED-DISABLED'

Surgery, Surgery, Surgery!!!!

8/1/2020

In hospital for a bit of follow up surgery on my feet, no anesthetic this time, being hard core 🤣 paralysed has it's pro an cons 😉😁....

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Here's my up date. Home now. Stone is still on the move and has given me a killer infection now on very strong antibiotics, but its the Large Colon, that's causing the pain 😢
So will be having a big Operation to remove it asap...
I'm feeling so unwell cant stop crying with the pain, and I'll be off rugby for the next 2/3 months maybe more ☹
I'd like to give a big hug to all you caring souls, wrap your arms around yourself and feel my love. Thank you for all the messages of support it helps my soul stay balanced (ish)

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Is it or isn't it....

9/12/2019

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I was rushed into hospital yesterday afternoon. I’ve been too ill for too long and very unsocial. After 2 kidney Ops last year to remove kidney stones, one got left behind being a little shite because it was stuck in the kidney. For the past 6 months my health and motivation have been at an all time low. For the last 3 weeks I’ve had to backdown from rugby because of the pain and discomfort.... Last night I thought I was going to die with relentless horrific pain as the 6mm stone decides to make its journey along the track to my Urostomy (stoma). My surgeon Paul Jones (top guy) said it should pop out sometime today, or it’s another Op, but a more invasive one, so fingers X for me people so I can recover and get back to the living and play the sport I love and have missed, Wheelchair Rugby 💪🏼

🏐💪🏼

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Who's with me...

1/11/2019

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This is me on a neuro-pain mixed with rain day ... I’m almost on the edge of a breakdown!... Every move is more disabling than my disability and I just want to cry and die...
Those who suffer this torture I feel your every move, I hear your every moan, groan, scream & cry and I send you bundles of love... Keep strong people say, think positive they protest and stay busy and in control... Well fuk off!!!... Strong, Positive, Busy, Control... We live that way every day already but PAIN is something else... PAIN is the one in CONTROL... PAIN is constantly BUSY... PAIN is very POSITIVE and PAIN is immensely STRONG... I can never compete with it, medicine for pain relief is a no no for me, nothing works so it’s grin and bare it until the rain and low pressure passes then it all comes down to a manageable level.... :-( 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿

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The Summer of 2019... Time to transfer from W.chair to Trike

20/7/2019

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Here we go, got the boys transferring me onto the trike for a ride out with the gang and my man Andy, celebrating his 40 yrs of being a HA.... What a buzz, 12 yrs being a paraplegic and only now getting back on a ride !!! Thanks Paul Anthony and everybody for a fantastic day/night !!!

Photos... Me on the trike with mate Paul... Me before the ride with my mate Cerith... Then me with the after ride look

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GBWR 5s 2nd Games Beat Battered & Bruised

13/7/2019

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Thanks for all the support guys ...

We were beat, battered & bruised but with a team of only 5 players, We battled through 5 games of intense non stop action to the end with true Team Spirit!!! Even beetle juice pop in to show support, hahaa... I am so proud to be a member of Ospreys Wheelchair Rugby Team B... Final games on August 31st....💪🏽

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GBWR 5s Tournament at Stoke Mandeville

13/7/2019

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And we're off, time to test my new chair... 2nd half of the GBWR 5s Tournament... Stoke Mandeville are you ready for the Ospreys ... and are we ready for you, that's the question?? ... Let the bashing begin ;-) ♿😁

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It's Done... My Bespoke Rugby Wheelchair Is Ready To Go And and So Am I

28/6/2019

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Hi Y'All, I have some GREAT news to share with you today and it's to say a 1000 +++ Thank Youz to all of you amazing people for donating to my cause...
We have hit the jackpot £££ and I now have my very own bespoke Rugby Wheelchair with all the extras, to be picked up on my way to rugby training next Tuesday July 2nd from Roma Sports...
I feel like a big kid, so excited to be playing in the next tournament games on July 13th at Stoke Mandeville in my own chair... All I can say again is a Massive Thank You, without your help it wouldn't have been possible...
My gofundme page is now closed and its time to Keep Smiling People, it's the best feeling in the World !!!❣️

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Wheelchair Rugby Chair... Go fund me page

12/6/2019

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Hi all you crazy Kats. Have I got some GREAT news to share... My gofundme page has received donations from all pockets... So far enough has been raised for my bespoke Rugby Wheelchair 👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾 I can never thank you enough....
The gofundme page is still open for donations to help towards all the extras a Wheelchair Rugby Girl needs, like spare wheels, inner tubes, straps, cushion + covers etc... So if you still got lose change hiding down the back of ya sofa feel free to donate it to me www.gofundme.com/rugby-wheelchair-for-amanda 😁
Yesturday I had my 1st sitting for my rugby chair and have attached some photos and vids of the fitting.... Keep watching to stay up to date with the chairs progress.
Again, a huge THANK YOU 😁👏🏾❣️

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Spring of 2019

13/3/2019

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March 2019 - After having an amazing weekend up in Leicester watching the King Power Quad Nations games, it was also great to be invited to play a practice game ♿ with an awesome well skilled bunch of women Sophie Price, Carla Spear, Ella Beaumont, Gemma Lumsdaine, Tilly Robinson, Faye West, and everybody else ( I can't remember your names sorry). I thank you all enormously for showing me how its done 😉... I have sooo much to learn 🤓.... Later the girls played in the Exhibition Game (prior to the international game) and were amazing to watch... We'll meet again at the GBWR 5s Tournament in May 💪🏼🏐💪🏼

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Part 3,,, Chapter 24... The Finale... Trading My Old Life for New Life… 2011 to the present 2018

4/6/2018

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Look at me in Isolation here I roll on an unknown path and know not where the tracks will take me
Lost between two worlds too late to leave one and yet too soon to reach the other
I seem to be a million miles away and how cold and damp the air is that surrounds me
What is it that holds my limbs back from the fire that awaits so teasingly on the other side

The warmth of it is near I can feel it burning my skin but so elusive is it to touch
I know not how I found this empty place that echoes even though I say no words
Though living imprisons me from either side I feel the scarlet and yellow flames burning me inside
But cold its breath leaves me
Release me from this naked swirl of madness and I will close the door of comfort around me
No longer insecure between two worlds

A reshuffle of my life had to be taken. Reckless love gave me a shattered heart and left me paralysed, back stabbing two faced fuked up weak friends, left me with a pocket full of worthless pennies that nothing could buy and to top it all off four years after the accident, I had three flash back memories of the night that left me with a disability. I got back in touch with the CID and ask for Him to be brought back in and re-questioned. Maybe He’ll be able to remember something this time…

In May I woke up early morning with a memory of July 16th, 2007. It blasted right in to spin me right out. Was it a dream I just had? Or was it a real beaming memory bursting into my thoughts like the sun light bursting upon my eyes through the curtains. Is my mind playing tricks on me or has my fractured memory bank started to glue itself back together trying to tell me my own story…? I mean,
it would be nice to know what the fuk happened…

I was sitting on the middle cushion of my green three-seater chesterfield, with my right leg bent to rest my ankle on top of the left knee while I examined the torn off heel of my Victorian boot, which I held in my hand feeling bemused with myself.
My thoughts about having this memory gives me no idea as to what puzzled me and has left me mystified...
Anyway, the next blasting memory instalment was Him, walking into the living room, standing in front of me but giving me His side view as He stood and looked out through the balcony doors...

A few mornings later another memory joined the first and second. This one tells me I was in Picton Lane on my way to Yellow Cabs, when I tripped in a sallow pot hole and twisted down hard on my ankle causing the snapping of the boot heel. I walked lopsided through the taxi rank door and saw a pointing finger directing me to turn straight back around to the waiting taxi. Laughing at my walk I followed her order holding up my boot heel and happily went on my way…

19th July 2011... The police ask Him to voluntary go to the station as they had a few questions to ask. He gave more or less the same statement He gave in 2007. I have it here on my desk oppressively sweltering next to me. It’s pages aching my eyes, His name typed in bold black capital letters burning my memory leaving me feeling so shredded deep within my heart, soul and spirt.

I studied His words with mine hoping to see our memories well-matched and able to fill in the missing parts of our puzzle.

He knows what happened, I have felt it ooze from His pours since He came into my room at Morriston Hospital to see me when He was told not to until after the CID had spoken to me...
I have never wanted to physically say it out loud, but I feel the need to write it in words before I scream it out with tears…

‘He did this to me. He is the reason I am paralysed’… 'but I don't know how because of memory void'.

No charges were brought against Him in the eyes of the law even tho CID felt this to be unfair. Circumstantial evidence was telling the story that I was thrown by ‘somebody’, over that balcony and a struggle had occurred… There was no third party there on the night just Him and me…

2011... Summer was coming to its end, and bumping into friends who had abandoned me in my hour or should I say my years of need, started to become an annoying norm every time I left the house.

Suddenly they took on the role of a common pet annoyance, the flea.
Fleas that have been hiding dormant in the cracks of life for a few years, but once the smell of my warm patchouli blood came near, out they’d jump to try and suck the life force out of me. These friends I want to catch and pinch their heads off with great triumph just to end their cycle around my existence…

Fat Cunt or Fatty as I call him in my memoirs, the one I asked to take my Ex in when our relationship started to crash… He saw me first in Swansea market when I was with my daughter, he walked towards me all smiles and happy, when close enough he started to bend down to give me a hug hello, when the force of my antagonism stopped him before his distorted thoughts of friendship and dirty paws touched me. I won't bore my memories but in brief it went like this...

He says…
‘You alright?’
I say…
‘What the fuks it got to do with you? If you give a fuk you could of phoned me, you could have called over to see if I was OK if you cared that much. I needed you and you never came'.
He says…
‘I’m sorry I…’
I cut in and
I say…
‘Fuk you... I don’t give a fuk, your no friend of mind and you can tell the rest the same’.

A few days later as I was on my way home from town I see another so-called friend. I speak the same to him, after he asked me how I was. He called to the house half an hour later with some therapy shite and never came back, thank the gods I speak my truth.
So many friends left me and expected a welcoming smile and warm hug on meeting years later. All giving me the same line as if they had rehearsed it together just in case they were to bump into me freewheeling around town… CUNTS… That’s all they are to me, and true to their core.

2011 was proving to be a year of make me or break me and it was more on the break me side.
Always in and out of hospital, surgery for this, a small Op for that, then on the 17th August I was back under the knife for an Ileostomy, a decision I took upon myself to have done and talked about it with the surgeon.
It was time, time to shit in a bag instead of on the bed or in my pants. It has been the best surgery to date, I now have a Stoma that looks like a big fat strawberry without the seeds lol, and I can move about freely without the threat of pooing my pants.
I just keep pissing in them now lol…. Oh to be a para 😉…

The time had also come for me to sell Crowleys Rock Bar, my little empire, my pride of still being self-employed after becoming a paraplegic. I paid £8000 for the lease and put in £20,000 to do the place up, if anyone wanted to buy the lease I wanted £8000 and no less.
£8000 I got and tears I cried. Another part of my life has ended but my name Crowley is still above the door, and for that she lives on.

My flat down the Mumbles also had to be sold, again another hard decision to make. It was the last piece of my little empire to fall. Having assets, the government wouldn’t allow a full benefit claim, so it was sold to allow me to have enough benefit to live on. Politics only look after the tax giver not the cripples.

2012… I stopped writing in my dairy my best friend Pen and I had become distant, like me with the rest of the world.

I suffered deep depression, stayed in bed unwashed for months, not eating enough, not sleeping enough. Not conversing with anyone in good tone just shouting at all who dare try and tell me there’s more to life.
Fighting pain, fighting the never-ending pins and needles in my legs, fighting the feeling they are on fire before a spastic spasm dance tells me my catheter is blocked and I’m about to piss myself any minute.
I lost so much weight, my tits had vanished, my legs looked like match sticks with big nobble knees.
My hair was falling out, eyebrows have all but disappeared, eyelashes very sparse and my skin was as white as dairy cream... man made medication was the cause.

2014… I came back to the land of the living, a new me had been reborn. I had had a lot to think about over the years in my world of isolation. I changed my mind set and came off all prescribed pain medication, it didn't fuking work for a start, so I just stuck with my forever faithful Green Buddy and my 'Just deal with it attitude', that had come back to life.

I started to go out and meet up with old acquaintances, but the catheter always leaked and left a trail of piss from where I’d been, to where I was going, usually leading right back to my front door lol.
It was time to make another weighty decision to have more surgery. This time I wanted the bladder taken out I wanted to start living a life and meet new people make new friends. I wanted to stop pissed my pants every time I had a drink.

2015... After months of talks with the surgeon, scans, tests and everything else taken, the time had come and on the 28th August I was booked into The University Hospital of Wales, Cardiff to have a Cystectomy and Ileal Conduit Diversion, meaning bladder out stoma in baby.
Seven and a half hours in surgery I came out of theater with another but smaller strawberry stoma ;-)

My life no longer burdened with shitty pissy pants, my confidence for getting back out there and onto the dating game was on.
This para virgin wanted sex, lol, yep I want SEX, SEX and more SEX!!! Try a bit of this, bit of that, find out a bit of the other lol...

I had no idea of how or who was going to be the first to pop this para’s cherry, but I knew it was time to break free from this crippled mould if it was the last thing I did! 😉

2016… I was back on the social scene, shopping trips to Cardiff training it not driving it, getting out and about more than ever, so I decided to publish part of my dairy on line.

I phoned an old friend who came to pick me up for a spin in his Mercedes convertible. It was a beautiful sunny day, so we took a drive down Gower to the King Arthur Hotel for a quick lunch. The place was packed and as we approached a parking spot (grass bank) I noticed a group of bikers sitting out side by the door entrance. There was a free table next to them so as soon as I was in my manual I whizzed over to claim that space.

Once my friend and I had ordered enough to graze and slurp on I looked over to the boys and couldn’t see any club patch, so I said Hello and started conversation. They told me who they were, and I mentioned the Welsh Coast Rally and the conversation flowed nicely. On leaving I said I’d see them at the Rally of which I did.
Me and my Sis (not real sister) but Sailor Buddy’s daughter a long-time friend that has been with me for ever, went over to the tent they were selling 81 support gear from and spent most of the night there laughing until my taxi picked us up at 2am.

May 2016… I sold myself on a few online dating sites, fuk me there are way too many mingers out there. I was on line for about 7/8 weeks and had hundreds of interested offers but nothing was lighting my fire. Then just as I’m about to jack the whole thing in, this rather dishy guy sent me a message…
We got talking on live chat instantly and I thought… ‘Way-hey girl, you’re the pussy who got the cream, bring it on’😉

It wasn’t long before we started seeing each other and he would come down on weekends in the bus he lived in so here I shall call him the ‘Bus Man’.
Bus man and I got on well to start with as we all do. I felt comfortable with him and him with me. We started to meet each other’s friends and family, I even took him to the Welsh Coast winter Rally to meet a lot of biker friends, but by this time something was missing…

Intellect, that’s what it was. He had no intellect to click with mine long term. Nothing catching or exciting my brainbox with thoughts or opinions open to debate or conversation… He was a genuinely nice guy but tried pushing the speed button on the relationship to soon.
I need mind stimulation and I need a man not… well… never mind, He was eye candy that’s for sure I got what I was looking for, thanks very much. Now that I’m cognizant with orgasmic sex again and I’m no longer a para virgin, it’s time to move on me thinks lol…

October 2016… After working with and having the support of the police for the past 9 yrs and most importantly the constant backing from DC Billingham, a letter arrived with the date of the appeal. We had been fighting with the CICA since 2007 about their decision to not grant me Criminal Injuries Compensation.

On October 4th, 2016 at St Andrews Place, Cardiff we lost the appeal again. It was devastating news, but we kind of knew it was going to be a big fat no. It was a long shot, but we tried.

December 2016… I receive a private message on messenger from a guy I didn't know asking if I was the girl in the w.chair at the Welsh coast Rally? I replied with, ‘Yeah, I don’t think there were any other
w.chair cripples there, who are you and why are you asking?’
Apparently he had stood in front of my chair looked me straight in the eyes and said ‘Hello’. I didn’t respond I just wheeled away, lol…

2017… Me and that mystery messenger are now happily together. I found my man… A para sex virgin that I have Sooo much to teach. How exciting lol... 😉
I am living a happy life after being away from it for so many years. We have packed in so much in such a short time…

For my birthday in May he bought me a car, and we off drove to watch Skunk Anansie in Bristol, early June we were watching George Ezra in Swansea Guild Hall.

The 16th July 2017 came around marking it a decade of me being legs on wheels. 10 fuking years in a wheelchair with not knowing the how and the why.

A month later in August we were camping at the HA Bulldog Bash just outside Stratford-upon-Avon, he had even got a double divan bed for us to sleep on in the tent lol

November 2017… I went along to Llantrisant Leisure Centre to check out the wheelchair rugby team Called Ospreys. I wanted to have a go at wheelchair rugby when I first become paraplegic, but time wasn’t on my side then.

2018… Now I am an Ospreys Team player and took part in the first GBWR 5s Tournament held at Stoke Mandeville on Saturday 5th May with my boys lol. We lost but it didn't matter because we’ll be back to give some serious bashes lol... And I, hopefully will know how to actually play the game, Hahaaa.

My man could see how much it meant for me to give it a try when we first took a trip to Llantrisant. Now he takes time off work to drive me there every week...

The next challenge I face in 2018 is getting on a plane in for the first time since the accident and fly over to Tuscany for my daughter’s wedding... If that s a doddle I'll be off traveling again!!!...

This August I'll be doing a free fall Skydive to raise money for a customized rugby sports chair... It's the way I roll right now and haven't got time to think about the surgery I've already had this year with more to come... All I know is never give up, turn a problem into a challenge and the challenge in to your goal... Happy Dayzzz... ;-)

It may have taken me 10 years to feel comfortable in my own skin not only as a paraplegic but a sexually active paraplegic lol ;-) and come through to the other side complete.
I couldn’t have done it without my precious friends, the ones who did stay by my side throughout my journey of acceptance in all my darkest days. But most of all my beautiful daughter, my rock, my inspiration, my every breath. If I didn't have her to keep in check I'd have no-one xxx Blessed Be… For Ever and A Day…

I would like to say a Big Thank you to all who have kept with me and followed my dairy, showing support and care through emails and messages. I hope some of you, if not all, have found some inspiration from my own learning to know that life stops when you stop living it, and only takes control again if you take over the reins and go with the ride.
Life is as hard as we make it, and with that we learn the hard way because of this but the rewards are greater than we give ourselves credit for.
I have learnt so much about people, with disappointment and the disillusion created with love, hate & anger, and the chances we offer each other for the benefit of our own selfish needs.
I have learnt more about being misplaced in one’s own mind with lonely mental depression,
disability & ability, weakness & strength, frustration with anticipation and acceptance with endurance.
Re-identification, to believe and love myself before others, fortitude & resilience with the strength of mind to carry on while not knowing the outcome.
Life is a strange game that drains you, and if we lose are way we lose the fortuitous reason to win. I was ready and willing to give up and lose it all, but for some reason rising like the phoenix from the ashes I gained the strength to win the fight to live and keep smiling … I hope you can do the same

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June 2nd, 2018

2/6/2018

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Hi Everyone.

Thank you so much for staying with me and I'm so sorry to keep you waiting for the final part of my diary. As you all know I haven't been to well for some time but getting better and I hope to post my last blog within the next 5 days. Until that time soak up all the rays the sun has to offer, keep smiling and take it easy but keep it sleazy, life's too short to be boring !!! xXx
❣️👊😂☀️

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Part 3... Chapter 24...Part 2…The End of 2009/10 & The Start of 2011…

17/5/2018

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In 2009 He came over for dinner as planned after He had walked back into my life.
We talked and came to an agreement that He would stay over 2 nights a week and not hang around in the day but would help me with trivial things if needed when I was without a carer. I have full time carers so not much was really needed from Him. He needed somewhere to dump his ass, while looking for permanent accommodation and work. He ended up couching it at mine one to two nights more as the weeks pasted by.

Things worked out well until a shift in our orbit began to lure to the surface the power of collision between Venus and Mars. Our communication again started to become thinner and denser with no real meaning to the words being spoken. Our big bang happened faster than thoughts bouncing into my thinking. My instincts months before knew that what we were trying to do wasn’t going to last for long.

He started to work for me back as the cellar man. It didn’t last before I had to find someone else to take over. I asked a few people if they wanted the job but had no takers. I didn’t advertise in the local job centre or paper because I wanted to know and trust the person I was taking on. I knew that was going to be a challenge as most of the people I had in mind were as thick as pig shite, on all levels. And friends, well, don't get me started...
.

To employ a stranger and not be on the premises to vet didn’t feel right, I felt more relaxed employing someone I knew even if they were dull. Then lo and behold in a sudden turn of events someone who had worked with me at the Office Pub was keen to enquire about the vacancy of which he took. What I hadn’t done was check out if he was capable, by asking a few people about him as I hadn’t seen him around for a while. Well, fuking stone a crows, what a total fuked up muppet he was and probably still is.

I had known this fuk up or boy mores to the point, for some time and thought he would pass the test of trust. Fuk me, what a mistake that was. Before I go any further I shall call him, ‘Stoner Hat’.
Stoner Hat had no knowledge of cellar operations so before my EX had left for good He promised He would teach Stoner Hat the ropes, until he was mentally in tune with the do’s and don’ts…

Once achieved I called on my Polish friends a few times to carry me in my chair up the stairs of Crowleys, so I could keep an eye on Stoner Hats capabilities and skills as a manager regarding customers relations, cleanliness in himself and how he kept my business in ship shape order.
This was also my reason for doing so…Stock orders given to me stated the required amount, but the business cash flow was diminishing fast with no reason as to why from the boy I call Stoner Hat but have now changed it to ‘the Boy’.

Buzzfeeds like dragged up phlegm from the back of the throat headed towards me thick and fast from every mouth that held a spoon to stir the shit that had been whispered.
Fingers tapping words on the phone faster than they could be spoken. Suddenly people remembered I had a phone number still in use. It was like I had become a celebrity in every twats gormless existence.

The rumour mill was printing fast, so fast people were spitting out words of many tales about my Bar. The gossip being voiced out poured like this... It's an open drugs den... it's lock in party time... it's sex on the pool table... it's, it's... my Ex parading around like a pissed peacock with His new fancy or fancies, and we’re not talking cakes with afternoon tea here.
Even my ex-husband and his wife who work in the take-away beneath Crowley’s Bar have seen Him outside with a beaming smile, although I feel it’s being fuelled by alcohol and helping Him hide His true reality.

His lies. Why I ask myself? Why lie to me when there is no need to? He is a free man to go with whom-ever He may choose. That was made clear, but as soon as I found out about them sitting in ‘My Bar’, my head just couldn’t deal with that so He and She were banned, whoever She maybe.

More stories kept flowing my way telling me who He had sex with while He was with me and working on the door at Crowleys long before the accident happened.
He has been - so I'm told - with two ex-friends of mine and possibly more since I kicked Him out. One of them used to work for me at Crowleys Bar that He swore He hated with a passion as she was, in His words... 'A piss 'ed and local bike with most of your customers'.
I had a one night stand with her when we were in our 20s, I've named her Herpes somewhere in my diary, I need say no more as to why that given name suits her. Shame it's not on her birth certificate.
His other easy promise was with a girl He started sharing accommodation with, a girl I rented my flat out to until she and her partner split. When she left, she left with dept owing on the utilities. A girl I call the 'Punky Dwarf', she played a part at one of my Fetish Nights... Well, everyone loves a freak...

The deal I had with Him claiming my sofa was to help me if needed. I lost count of how many times I needed help and ask Him but I got sweet FA. One time in particular when I was ill in bed with a UTI, my catheter got blocked (story of my life) and I ended up laying in my own piss. I phoned Mr Cunt to come and help me wash & change plus the bed needed changing.

His answer...
'Do you really need me right now? I've just left the job centre and I have made plans, don't you have a carer coming at lunch?

Another time was when I wanted my car back outside my house as it did belong to me and 'I' had made 'plans', for the following day (a Sunday) so I messaged Him about it...

His answer...
'I'm out of town'.

I had to asked Him to leave my life once again and never come back. We had run out of words to execute with spit and dribble in any attempt of arguing and my respect for Him was on par with a hungry tiger, saying yeah sure I ain’t going to hurt you, but I do advise you to run.
I looked at Him straight in the eye and calmly put it to Him for the second time, ‘You did this to me... You done it’.
I don’t think I blinked, and I unquestionably know He didn’t. I remember it so clearly, Him just staring back at me from the landing as I sat in my chair in the bedroom door way.
His answer back was just a blank, lost stare, just like the first time I challenged a response. He chewed on His nails with a facial expression looking like His brain was trying to scramble some fine words together to retort.
I told Him He had three days to get His belongings out of My house or they will be on the street for anyone to claim.

Crowleys reputation was going down the swanny. It was joining the list of my many heart breaking snares. More rumours this time of the toilets not being clean, warm off-tasting beer, a sticky bar with fruit flies around the pumps and feet being glued to the floor as soon as you stepped over from the carpeted entrance.

My baby, my life, my name Crowley. Crowleys Rock Bar was turning into a dirty late-night pit stop for all piss ‘eds, and with so many of my regular customers moving on to fresher beer with better clientele, it was soul destroying for this cripple.

I used to polish those wooden floor tiles every day until they sparkled like ice. The Brasso would come out to play and polish all brass pumps and anything else that was brass. Hot soapy water was used to clean all spirit bottles. Fridges always had to be wiped down, I bloody hated finger prints and smudges on the glass, and each bottle within them had to have front facing labels of each brand. Toilets, as old as they were, were clean enough you could eat your dinner off them. The whole place was loved and cared for by me and it was coming true that it was only me, that made Crowleys Rock.

Inside I was dying with anger, para frustration and so much hate I wanted to kill the Ex and the Boy for serving my EX and disrespecting me and my business… friends for not being friends...It was time my voice spoke louder than thunder...

I had to investigate what the fuk was making my ratings go down. With my customers finding elsewhere to quench their dying thirst it was breaking me. With everything I have done to help SO many people they are all treating me like shit, kicking me when I’m already down and looking upon me as nothing worthy of respect since I became a ‘Disabled Figure’ to them.

On my last check up in Crowleys, it was a quiet night but with a constant flow of one beer walk-in’s which left minimal work to do but work none-the-less. The Boy was stoned to fuk, showing his true signs of a lazy good for nothing little prick. Customers came in and waited seconds longer than needed before being noticed and served. I wanted to punch him.

Once they had left there is an empty glass waiting to be picked up, washed and put back on the shelf for the next paying customer. I lost count how many times I had to tell the Boy to fetch the glass and put a full tray into wash, before I smashed one in his face. That really, really did explode a reaction from me. A few days after that he quit, his reason being it was all too much for him. This fuking ass waffle is a total fukup for now and evermore.

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Part 3…Chapter 24… Part 1… 2011…

6/5/2018

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I light 3 candles and burn a Nag Champa incense stick. Reach for a crystal tumbler, grab my poison and wipe the dust away to reveal its label before I twist the top to allow the genie in the bottle its escape. My oldest, longest best friend when I need one, the forever faithful Jack Daniels.
A large measure, and holding the glass in close I look down into its temptation. It’s funny when we know that what we are about to do will bring penalties to pay the next day, but to that we say, ‘FUK IT. I NEED TIME OUT OF THIS REALITY RIGHT NOW. NOT TOMORROW OR THE DAY AFTER, IT DIDN’T COME OUT TO PLAY YESTURDAY. IT’S COMING OUT TO PLAY TONIGHT’!!! AAAARRRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!!!

The glass touched my lips. I closed my eyes and shot the lot down too quick to even give it time to coat the sides of my mouth, but gentle enough to feel its warm hello slide down my throat. Followed by another and another, and another, intoxicating my mind with, 'SO MUCH SHIT BECAUSE MY LIFE IS SHIT AND WHEN SHIT IS ALL YOU HAVE THEN SHIT IS ALL YOU FUKING THINK ABOUT'!!!

I sit here rubbing my finger and thumb over the pentagram I wear around my neck, with thoughts in candle light accompanied with the great Roman God Bacchus, drinking his merry wine (JD on this occasion). In my own ritual of madness, we are joined by Diana Goddess of the hunt, ruler of the moon, as the Hindu God Ganesh remover of obstacles attempts to have his say before Shiva butts in to destroy it all. The debate within me and the input from JD keeps taking my thoughts around and around on the never-ending hamster wheel...
Maybe, I will rise from the ashes like the phoenix or stay on the wheel like the hamster and just keep going around and around in this black hole of lost depression ...

I’m going to pour another shot and roll a tardy carpet of green… Me and JD are doing ok, me and my spelling not so, again I thank Microsoft for spell correction. I did start writing with Pen but had to abort and start on the old PC. My mind is working but my vision with pen and paper in candle light isn’t. I know, I could put the lights on, but I don’t want the fuking lights on. I’m liking the dancing shadows on the walls from the candle light. I put some sounds on and then turned them off because I’m liking the voices in my head and the shadows on the wall…

‘His’ heart is so small it pains me, and the meaning of friendship pains me more.
My She Devil is back within me under the stars, my body is airborne being rotated by the majestic, magnetic powers of the Gods that be. I’m finding my strength to hate from their dark side…
God, give my chariot wings now I’m stuck on this earth and bring on the fight with the White Angel.
Jesus our Father in Heaven can’t fix this now, not that he and his clang ever could, with me being Pagan an’ all. They just sit on the transparency of clouds watching us deplorable odious mortals fuk up our life…

I haven’t been able to hold my closest and most trusted friend Pen in my hand for many moons, give and take a phase. And on first try tonight I’m too pissed to hold it, loL.

I trust, I forgive, I adapt, but I never forget. I just can’t. That’s the hold life has over me and everybody I guess in one guise or another. It’s a journey we embrace that drives us insane. The past four years have been hard to describe how life is always raising my expectations to then watch them tumble down again. It’s a test I’m fed up of re-taking, a test that is always concealing something, but a test I will challenge until I expel my last breath…

I need to get out of this house. I want to run wild with the wolfs by my side to feel the freedom locked in my soul escape to find new ground, but I can’t.
I wish I could go back to sit on my bench at the top of Caswell woods. Watch the waves energy being chopped and tossed this way and that by the force of the wind from Mother Earth. While I join her by captivating a breath of her sweet salty sea breeze. My dog next to me as I puff me lungs good on a well merited Spliff.
But I can’t.

I wait night after night for a dream, but they never come they have long gone. The game is over now, and I really am on my own. I’m always sitting here looking for the answers one day at a time.
My heart wants to be free, but my mind gets in the way and the past won’t let go and He must know this. Maybe that’s why I haven’t seen or heard from Him in over 18 months.

I never believed He wanted to marry me when I asked Him at Rookwood Hospital. I never believed that He was going to be with me to the end. I never believed He loved me months before the night always in question happened… But there we go. THINGS CAN ONLY GET BETTER, LOL…

The past 12 months have been, shall I say, the best explosion of gossip people were rushing out to hear, with a beer in one hand and a fag in the other, anxious to know the life of the cripple they haven't been arsed to visit but instead got enough juicy info from her drunken Ex's behavior.
Too many so-called close friends haven't bothered to come and see me, reply to my messages and I say ‘messages’, as I sent more than I can remember. Neither were my phone calls answered or returned.
Nobody has been strong willed enough to come and knock my door to ask if I was OK, physically, emotionally, mentally. Now I feel they can all rot in hell as I pour hot liquid lava over their miserable little brains.
The number of friends that have stayed with me since He left comes to the grand total of four and that includes my daughter.

This diary newsfeed is going to take a while, let’s hope my fingers have enough energy to type, my eye lids stay light enough to keep open and my mind doesn’t wonder off with Jack lol…

Two spliffs and a shot later I begin… and it goes a bit like this…

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April 22nd, 2018

22/4/2018

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Afternoon Y'All...

You know I posted a few days ago that the final chapter will be with you before you know it. Well, I'm sorry to say this but hang on a little longer please, and here is the Why? reason...

As you know my health is up and down the swanny most of the time, and of late it has been all about my Kidneys.
In February this year I had surgery to blast 2 big stones and now they have finally started to follow the flow and make their way out into the big world.
The pain has been on and off horrific since surgery and UTI's, but now it has decided to stay while the stones pop out one by one when they can be arsed.
The 1st picture here shows the small stone (It looks like pac man or the top part of a skull lol, it passed through on Thursday, it's about 4/5 mm. Early hours this morning after my tears all night the 2nd stone joined his friend measuring up at 7/8 mm long and it looks like a crater from outta space.

Just waiting for the rest to follow...

I am hoping the final chapter in www.legsonwheels.com will be with you in the next 10 days. Until then Munchkins...

Take it Easy but Keep it Sleazy... Life's too short not to ere to edit.

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Part 3... Chapter 23... Dread, Excitement or Both…

19/3/2018

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So, what’s going to be different when He ‘Polishes His Presents’ on haunted ground full of memories to all the unanswered. I promise everything I say and do is going to be funky and fair lol, even writing that down was finger twisting torcher. I’m hurting real deep no matter how much I try to skirt around the edges of excitement in seeing Him.

Maybe I should put a spell on Him to be banished from my life, after all He banished me from His until His balls grew like a mans which gave Him a bigger pair to face me. I’ve got to know Him well and He spins a good line when He wants to be believed.

The way I see it is this, everyone is in it for their own gain. I’m talking about life. A chance is taken every day with every breath, thought and action. I don’t know what my actions are going to be but hope my breathing will execute my thoughts and carry them across to be understood with true sense.

We all think we know someone so well, inside and out, but we don’t. Inside everybody’s mind there is a secret mass of actions ready to be performed for right or wrong when the time imposes. It’s in that moment of hit or miss when we put into practice what we preach. With attaining the realization of life and putting into effect it’s connotations, it can be hard to show love, even harder to admit you want to feel it.

It’s 2.14 am according to the clock but that’s never right like most of the above my fingers have painstakingly inked down, but it’s close enough to tell me it’s time for some beauty sleep.

He won’t leave my thoughts.He hasn’t been in them for a while and now He just won’t piss off. Fuking hell mun. If He enters my dreams I’ll fuking kill Him whatever the dream narrative.

Praise the Green God for its abundance because that’s where I am sticking my head right now. I’m gonna breath in the scent and imagine I’m running through its fields of green crystal bud coated bliss. Tickling every cell of my skin and captivating me in the pleasure garden, being dazed with heavenly beauty. Now my dream begins, lol.

I’ll be back tomorrow with more over flowing thoughts of the what if’s…

Morning... Well here I am at 10.23 pm precisely. Back with nail biting anxiety with what happened to me on this day. There wasn’t an arranged time for us to meet, He came over in the afternoon.

It started with the roar of an engine reverberating its coming through the labyrinth of the Sandfields streets.
My heart started to beat faster as my mind raced around the route, trying to navigate and catch up with every sound wave as He was getting closer to my front door.
It was my machine, I knew its sound, its roar, its power. I was happy inside that He had actually put His helmet back on to ride it. He must have found out how to live again and breath life back into his rickety bones.
I do hope He is happy in Himself.

The sound became louder telling me He was on my street. Hearing the engine being tenderly stroked with the throttle, was a beautiful exciting sound. Fuk sake, my recollections of an able-bodied Me zoomed straight to the front page of my memory bank, as if I was living in yesteryear's land. A knock on the door zoomed me back into my chair.

The moment had come. My nervousness was making my eye brow twitch, which was always a giveaway sign I was shitting it. He was going to be wearing His leathers, I just knew it... I was right.
He had shaved off all His beard leaving only a slight stubble that I had always found attractive on Him. He gave me a smile that again took me back to our early days. My smile back at Him was big enough to block out the light without denial that I was so pleased to see Him again.

We henceforward into the kitchen where He stood leaning against the cooker as I sat in my manual about 4 feet away. We just looked at each other for that moment you know is too long, with no words, only shining sparkly eyes, as if they were trying to talk before the brain set into motion.
When the brain did step in it was strangely nerving.

He said no to the offer of a cuppa tea, it was just a quick visit really. No longer than 20 minutes. Once the initial ’Hellos’ were over with it all came back to me. He was just the same, His actions on rolling himself a fag more times than needed, was all He had to do to show me I was right asking Him to leave.

There were too many pauses in our talk. It was bitty with the, ‘How are yous?’ and the, ‘Where have you been?’ to the, ‘What you been up to?’ snooping questions. It was pleasant. Fuking pleasant lol, I can’t believe that’s the word I’m using, but it is the first word coming to mind without needing to think about it. It really was pleasant, Hahaaaaaa, Oh, for fuk sake lol. Spliff needed 😉

He told me He had to get away so left and stayed on a friends Barge for free if He would paint it. It was some place in Pontypool, well I think that’s where He said He was. I’d never heard of this good friend with a Barge. So, there it goes like I said, we never know each other completely.

I told Him how much I do for myself now compared to when we were together. More surgery was booked toward the end of November and that I passed my driving test at Rookwood. All in all, living the life of a Para.

We arranged for Him to come over for dinner. He’s back, and where we go from here is plastered with question marks. It was good to see Him however brief and pleasant lol, and I think He was more anxious than I.

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Coming Soon people...

18/3/2018

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Well, Hello Y'All... It's been a long while since I last posted and to cheer you all up I'm here to tell you that Part 3, Chapter 23... Dread, Excitement or Both… shall be with you in www.legsonwheels.com tomorrow for your lunch time read. I see that many of you have been catching up on my saga and I thank you with big hugs and bountiful's of love.
So, stay tuned and poised ready for tmoras exciting read ❣️😜

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Notice

1/3/2018

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Hi Everyone,

Remember I said that Chapter 23 in www.legsonwheels.com would be with you at the end of February? I'm really sorry I didn't deliver.

After my kidney Op on the 15th February life has been, shall we say, different. I need to go back into hospital and have the same procedure done again, in about a months time.

Not only has my health taken a lot of my day to day concentration and ability into the maze of madness, it has also prevented me joining my team mates in training (Ospreys Wheelchair Rugby).
For the past 3 weeks I have turned up at training but not taken part. It is driving me just as mad as not finishing and posting my blog.

Recently I joined a gym to keep me focused and as fit as possible physically and mentally. There are always limits, but I keep pushing harder every time.

Please stay tuned and before you know it Chapter 23 will have the attention of your beady eyes

Blessed Be xXx

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Coming back at ya soon!

11/2/2018

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Hi Everyone, Just letting you all know that I'll be in hospital next week for my kidney Op and my next blog will be with you at the end of the month. Until that time you'll have plenty of it to stay tuned and up to date.

Thank you all for your private messages and emails. It gives me the confidence to keep going and live life to the full.
I wish the same back to you all for ever and a day! xXx ;-)

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Part 3... Chapter 22... He's Alive and I Wanna Drive

29/1/2018

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HI thoughts, I see you have found your friend pen. It hasn’t seen you for a while, what do you want to say? The thing is thoughts, it’s a bit like this…

I gave up conjecturing if a certain person could walk back into my life as a friend, but the surmise has flipped and to my shock, horror and stupefaction I received a text asking if I was up for a visitor. It was ‘Him’.

I was hesitant with my finger hovering over the mobiles keypad. My heart was racing, emotional nerves under attack. Too many thoughts charging full force. All the feelings I’ve already fought. I couldn’t respond back to him straight away. I needed to think and get a grip on my shaking fingers.

Fuk this shite! Pointless calling for the gods to step in and advise. Pointless swirling around the Tower of Babel to join the muse seeking all answers again to the same questions. No, it’s time to call in Jah, the only one that ever makes sense and gives the right answer always. It’s called stoned immaculate!

I sat, as I do, in my chair drawing in full lung capacity of green free-thinking glory. Slowly exhaling smoke into rings upwards to the ceiling which in turn bounced back a thought. Smoke rings were and probably still are used with tribe’s still in existence. Communicating like the news channel, enabling tribes to see over long distances and know what the fuk was going on.

In the depths of my mind I sat there watching and thinking, ‘What are these smoke rings saying to me?’ It's just me in the bloody kitchen watching them disappear to nothing, thinking utter shite lol.

I stopped smoke lip syncing and just exhaled. I’ll find out soon enough what my smoke signals were meaning when I meet up with Him. My mouth can’t turn of its motor once started so the message will be loud and clear, good or bad, happy or sad.

I messaged Him back eventually, and we have arranged a day for Him to come over to chat. I’ve told my daughter with not much of a response back apart from the face pulled meaning of, 'We’ll see?'...
Yeah, we’ll see I thought to myself…

On a lighter note, last week on November the 5th my daughter drove us to Rookwood Hospital. It was the funniest day out we'd had together for too much of a long time, and with a well gratified reason for going. Although at one point it didn’t look as though we were going to make it. My daughter has her licence but wasn’t 100% confident about driving on the motorway.

Once we had joined the masses in the fast lane, I looked across at her and giggled. There she was with both her tiny little hands gripping the steering wheel in deep concentration. A cushion under her bum for height, another behind her back to push her to some extent frontward. Allowing her neck to extend like an alien so her head permitted her eyes to almost touch the wind screen. Bloody hilarious.

The absorption on my little girl’s face was priceless. Especially when it was time to come off the lanes of death and join another called a roundabout.
Eventually we joined the forever spinning circumference of traffic and carried on driving around and around the dam roundabout as we kept missing our turning off point. My eyes at this point are streaming with tears of laughter, joy combined with the release of serotonin. My body felt no pain for those few minutes, it was amazing.
Finally, she deviated us from the roundabout onto the right road to Rookwood.

This place will never take away my first memories as a wheelchair user. It taught me and thousands before and after my stay how to take on and embrace a new life. (Yeah Right) ;-)

This return visit was more of a ‘Teach me how to drive a car day. With no working fuking legs’ lol…

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Part 3… Chapter 21… My messed-up life

18/1/2018

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All I’ve been doing is looking around for some sort of certainty as to who I am, and whats left in my life worth living for. It’s so hard right now in this mental state of self doubt. As a mother, the number one reason for wanting to stay on this earth should be for my daughter. But it’s not enough. A selfish thought but a real one.

I’m not thinking of, or going to take my own life to turn it into ashes, and I won’t lie to myself as I sit here and write this. The inner self knows who and where we are, and it never lets us forget either. There was a time when I was 11 yrs old, when I crawled into the pits of a dark hole and wanted nothing else but to leave this world. Life at that point had began to open its concept into my conscious reality, pushing my mind to the understandings of my young past and present environment.

At that time hormones kick started faster than a rocket blasting to the moon. I was becoming a woman with no mother around to tell me what the fuk was happening. I had a step father out shagging someone most nights, leaving me to look after the siblings when it struck me. Nature took over and the red sea had arrived. I grew up, fully understanding
what had happened to me as a junior, a shattering of confusion for an eleven-year-old.

Self-harm introduced its faceless force upon me. It took my hand and lead the way into the shadows of emptiness. I showed no one. I told no one. It was my secret place and I felt no pain as I watched the blood run down my arms, dripping onto the dirty ground beneath my feet of the gully behind our house. Waiting for that pit to suck me in so I was here no-more. But a voice of strength, a voice I hadn’t heard in my own head before bounced in loud, telling me to wake up.

It was my inner voice that came from the light, took control of my mind and plucked me out from the clutches of death. Scars formed over the gashes and locked in the pain. The event itself, and the cause leading up to such an act will always stay on the top shelf of my memory bank.

Now older and wiser that memory makes me stronger. More times stronger than the number of stars in the sky. Only this time I’m lost in the mass of the universe. I’m finding it so hard to figure out what it’s all about for me now.

Nearly 39 years of age, I am paralysed from my chest to my toes, on going health issues, wheelchair bound for life, with a partner who has left on mutual reasons but doesn’t have the balls to stay in contact. I have no memory of this life changing event that took place on the 16th July 2007. No justification in my memory to put it on the top shelf.

That’s why I’m lost. My messed-up life I feel isn’t going to settle down for a long while yet. I have no dreams to remember but plenty of memories I want to forget...

On the 7th June this year I was admitted to Llandough Hospital in Cardiff to have the removal of all the titanium USS screws and rods from my spine on the Monday. Big op. Since having them put in they had done nothing but restrict my DIS-A-BIL-I-TY even further.
It was so fuking painful they had to come out.

I couldn’t even bend over to pick something up from the floor and with transfers I was so up straight I felt more unbalanced. So I asked for them to be taken out now that my vertebrae have fused together.

The operation was done on the Monday, I was up and in my chair on the Tuesday and home on the Wednesday. It was great to see Shrimp again, my little wheelchair builder buddy. I hadn’t seen her since 2007 and it felt like it was yesturday.

It was an even better hospital trip than the last time I was there because as I requested, the stitcher after surgery had stitched my tattoo back together better than the last time. So now my meditating woman has her boobs a bit more even, lol...

Last year (2008) but mainly this year (2009) I have had a few trips to the hospital theatre for surgery. Surgery that needs a general anaesthetic for you to be fuk knows where in ‘Mind’ and I’ve been there enough times.
I’ve been having a procedure called, Litholopaxy. The crushing up and sucking out of bladder stones using a telescopic instruments or laser to remove the stone fragments using a suction gadget.

Followed finally by injections of botulinum toxin-A (Botox) into my bladder.

Meaning... A small telescope into my bladder through my urethra and injecting between 15 and 20 injections of Botox into the bladder wall from the inside. Botox is a muscle relaxant and will work (hopefully) by reducing the uncontrollable spasms of my bladder muscle, so I can stop pissing everytime I move.

It’s one thing not having the ‘I need a pee brain message’ but to constantly have pelvis and legs spasms as the sign, it ain’t nice. To know your pissing your pants and there is fuk all you can do about it, its just a ‘Sit in ya piss until someone comes to help moment’. That in my case happens more than often.

After my Surgeon, who I shall name here as Mr Relaxed, told me about the procedure the first time I asked him if it would be possible for me to have the surgery with no anaesthetic? He was quite taken aback with my request. I explain that as I’m paralysed from T4 and complete with no response from below that area I would prefer to be awake and didn’t see the point of being under with general anaesthetic poisoning my blood.

His face was a picture postcard lol.

If I can feel pain to know something is wrong, how do we know if I won’t feel the pain when both procedures are being done never mind the injections. That’s the question.
After a long discussion we agreed that I would be allowed to be poison free only if I permitted a needle to be inserted into my hand ready for the knock me out in seconds potion if I were to scream loud, lol .

I love Mr Relaxed, he thinks I have a few screws missing and I think the same, but it’s worth a go. Anything is better than the poisonous potion that puts you to sleep.

In October I had a Suprapubic catheter, inserted via the abdomen directly into the bladder. So far so good with the not pissing every 5 minutes, but the infections are never ending. Making me feel run down and ill all the time.

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Winter Solstice 2017

21/12/2017

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Happy Winter Solstice with hope and love for everyone.
Legs on Wheels will be back with you in the New Year so until that time, have the best festive fun EVER!!! and rejoin me in January 2018. Blessed Be Y'All xXx ;-)

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Part 3... Chapter 20... Distance, Silence & A Real Friend...

13/12/2017

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Afternoon Pen, I hope your all inked up and ready to go because I got much, many and more verbal to spill.

‘Thanks for the letter’. Are you fuking serious!!!… Is that all you can say?...How about...
‘Thanks for your letter. I…..’.

With as much blar, blar, blar as You could muster, but no. You could only muster up enough confidence to stretch a few words into a text blaring, ‘Thanks for the letter’…

He is a weak, fragile, debilitated feeble arse wipe of a man. An insult to the male species. I can’t say all men as 20% of the ones I know are… fuk writing about that. They are all fuking weak when shit hits the fan with a woman more than anything else in the world.

How He became the president of a biker club once upon a time many years ago miffs me to a giggle. And I need a giggle right now.

After all the understanding I’ve been giving Him throughout our journey together. All the bollox I have had to put aside about Me to help Him along and then ask a friend to share their abode with this Cunt, because home life is such a struggle for Him. Boofukinghoo!

It seems He has been giving the green card to freedom grasping it as tight as He can with both hands. While the Jokers grin happily sits on his smug face He extends the middle finger gesture straight at me.

I just didn’t know how to react to His response. To show such hesitation to communicate currently makes me question His actions on the night in question even more…

What is fuking wrong with Him??? Who is He??? Does He even care about our situation??? Has It lost the use of its voice, like I have lost the use of my legs???

I certainly haven't lost my voice, and I know silence can sometimes give you the answer your looking for but without word from the horse’s mouth it’s no good dwelling on the what if’s. When you don’t have a memory of the same event yourself.

I have a very close friend that I shall name here as ‘SailorBud’. As a young man many moons ago, he was in the Navy. He grew up just a few doors down on the same street upon which I live. Since I’ve known him he has been a stoner, a raver, an old hippy at heart and an amazing dad to two beautiful girls, one blond and one brunette.

I met them all through friends at Sandy Lane Fate, held down at Pennard, Gower. His two girls both dancing around like little fairies with beautiful thick long locks flying wild in the breeze, as they blew the downy tuffs of seeds from the heads of the dandelion weed.

Taking my daughters hand under their delicate little wings, off they all went slowly dragging their feet through the long grass with laugher and innocent smiles.
Memories are there to lift the spirits if you bring the good ones to the front. Happy times. Both girls are grown up women now, I see Blondie more than Brunette.

Sailor comes over often to see me and shepherds me in Bud heaven. On one occasion as I lay in bed with pain, heartache, confusion, anger, loneliness in my own little world and everything else of doom and gloom.

He took my hand, placed it on the side of the bed, held it gently and listened as I ranted on and on all about me, me, me. Tears rolling down my face, nose snot blocked, eyes all puffy and red… He handed me a tissue and we both smiled with a quiet chuckle as I blew my nose louder than a horn.

He packed a pipe and handed it to me…

A good man is my SailorBud… A true friend that asks no questions.

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Part 3... Chapter 19... Virtual Break Down & a Letter…

28/11/2017

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Thoughts with boxing gloves punching every corner of my psyche telling me there is fuk all that can be changed now. Fuking two years plus as a para and I’m still searching for me. One minute I’m there and the next I’m free falling deeper and deeper into my own shadow, until the light has gone out and I’m all alone in the dark.

My black darkness is bigger than the universe, I feel its infinity all around me. The vastness of space for my thoughts to interweave has the immensity to make me go mad. My thoughts expand to words, words jump into actions, actions become three-dimensional movie making tools in my brain. I can even add colour. Bump it up to a four + dimension and I’m totally lost in my own created Virtual Reality. A ‘Break Down’ Head Movie, I’m here, there and everywhere. Quantum Physics I’m with you man lol.

That’s where I am right now, and all I know is that I have never been here before. All my life I have been on and off the right track, who hasn't? The wrong turn has been taken here and there, but I’ve bounced back from a lesson learnt with a smile and a wiser me.

In this long duration of crazy I feel encaged. I’m so deeply involved with my own thinking I just can’t make sense of it. It’s got me tightly tied in a net precariously hanging over infested water. I’m feeling so very, very sorry for me...

Just me.

If there was a knife in my hand I would cut loose from the net, to fall freely into the happy snappy flesh taring jaws of greedy little piranhas. After all, I am a wounded animal in the food chain, what use I am now? When Charles Darwin came up with his work, On the Origin of Species, it is all about survival of the fittest, well that also applies to us humans in society. What use is a cripple?...?...?

I don’t want to be in this chair, as funky as it may seem to those able to walk, for some strange reason I cannot see them wanting to swap places with me for life. They all just want to have a go in it, thinking it’s fun.

I hate what’s happened to me. I fuking hate this life. AAAAAArrrrrgggghhhhhh!!!!! Fuk you All! Fuk YOU!!!... Shit, fuk, fuuuuk!... :-(

Back soon, I need a big cry. Sort my head space before I jot down any more of my life's game of rotting nonsense… I’m gonna join Jah in herb heaven for a good while...

This Spinal Cord Injury is on and in my mind all the time. What it has taken away from me. What it has done to me. What it is doing to me, every day, physically, mentally, emotionally. I’m trying to find the positives but it’s a no-show.

I’ve been vacuumed up into a dark fast-moving vortex. Nobody has noticed. How could they? Why would they? It’s not as if my legs are dangling above them, with my size 4s kicking each one of them in the head as my whirling cyclone pulls me in, but not them.
My thoughts won’t stop throwing me in all the directions the air flows, from which I feel has a grip on me so forceful I cannot escape. Everything is spinning around so fast I wish I could stop time to give me time to reflect and think.

‘Think with a balanced mind Amanda’. This is what I’m repeating to myself. Think real life. Think about the here and now... That’s the fuking problem, life, the here and now. Fuk Off!!!... I’m hating my life; future thinking is not with me, my present is killing me, and my past is just that, past…

My degree of mental processing and thinking has always been set trying to see and understand a situation from all sides, before the course of action to put things right and move on is attained.
For the first time in my life I am in an empty space that this air vortex has pulled me into, alone.
There is no escape back to ground level, and if there is I’m spinning to fast to notice.

Realization is one thing but with my emotions this forceful gyre is making me feel a mass of water is squeezing me so tight. It’s as if it’s trying to wring out the last of my tears, but it can’t. This dark spiral is twisting me and is here to stay for a while, bringing with it a monsoon of tears drenching a forever steady flow of empty space.
My life has been painted as black as my heart and my thoughts are lost in translation on the understanding with myself. I cry, howling out my self-pity.

God, right now I want to dance so much, feel by body move freely. I want to stand up and dance my blues away then start another day like I used too, but I can’t.
It’s now substituted with more roar as I blast out the lyrics spinning my chair around and around in a continuous circle, singing loud and rocking out hard while my tears fly from my face faster than they are pouring.
Why isn’t there a nightclub with a mosh pit for wheelchair moshing? Fuk man, I would be there right now until my battery died and someone had to push me home.

I think of my daughter, and what she could be feeling now that I’m on my own. I can kinda guess she is relieved now that ‘He’ has gone. She is not fully in the know of my inner emotional state but she’s not stupid either, with the way I have brought her up she is probably dying to ask me how I’m feeling.

I show her the strong and speak of the weak. Now in me she is seeing the weak with no show of the strong. I love her so much it breaks my heart she is seeing me this way...

Awhile back, I ask a friend to help me with some personal care in the mornings and she has said yes. We’ve known each other long enough for me to feel comfortable in her company and we’re good friends so what goes on here should stay here.

Yet in the back of my mind, because I know her so well, I have no doubt she will be telling the stories of her early morning calls with me to her flat mate, and others once the red berry wine has opened her tell tail lips.
I’m hoping she won’t have to be with me to long before the Home Care plan begins.
Once that’s up and running my life will change again, with hope of some order taking place to get me back up in the sane game of living.

I’m going to call this girl-friend ‘Wine O’clock’, as she loves her vino, and another friend whose specks make him look like Harry Potter I shall name here as ‘HP’. Both came over a few nights ago to cheer me up. I supplied the berry juice and music, and both us girls had our own spliff filling THC, as always.
Except HP of course, as he only smokes other peoples if they are willing to share which ticks me off that list. Those who smokes tobacco are genuinely surprised when he has his own and not bumming a rollie, but herb smokers like myself think fuk you, I ain’t sharing my high with a ganja smoking sponger.
Wine O'clock on the other hand in her intervening moment will give in to such freeloaders.

Anyway, they asked me if He had been in touch with me or I with Him. The answer was a clear flat NO, followed by a brief open heart pour out, with support given back in a mildly spoken manner. They both suggested that I write Him a letter. I disagreed. My feelings were factual and blunt with no ifs and buts.
He should get in touch with me. He knows I’ve been in hospital for surgery since he left. I feel as though I am begging for Him to come and see me if I am the first to get in touch.
Why should that be???

After more red wine slurping, spliff smoking, laughter, talks and tears into the early hours, I said I would write a letter to him.

I stayed up all night when they left, continued to get pissed and started to compose the letter. I kept a copy for myself and it went like this...

On Sunday afternoon, the 16th of August 2009 I asked my daughter if she would take the letter to Fatty’s place where ‘He’ was staying. I text Fatty to let him know she was on her way to give him the letter for 'It'. My daughter did't want to see 'Him'.

The letter was presented to ‘Him’, but a reply to me was not received until three days later showing huge importance, care, love and understanding, via a frigging text message saying,

‘Thanks for the letter’…. Not even an ‘x’ regarding a kiss was added at the end…

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