Blog Archives

Holiday Time...

27/7/2017

Hi Everybody...
I would like to give a great big Thank You to All who have subscribed to my Story and All who have viewed and left lovely comments.
It really does give me the confidence to carry on sharing my Diary...

From today I shall be taking some time off, as I haven't been feeling too well of late.
So I'm off to enjoy holiday time with my family, but!!!
I will return...

Please Re-join Me On...

Tuesday 15th August...
and
Stay tuned with...

Part 3...
Chapter 12... It's 2009 Already...

0 Comments

Part 3... Chapter 11...Falling Apart with Good Intentions...

24/7/2017

0 Comments

Hi Pen, just a quick catch up with me, myself and I before I try to reach up as high as the heavens to dream of a better existence after the eleventh hour. Pointless saying a better life because life is what it is. A Bitch.

Existing, is my point here. We merely exist and the way we chose to exist around each other can make it easier to understand or harder to grasp awareness of our true self with life’s tests. It’s make or break. Life is a strange entity in the virtual sense, always devising the past, present and future, making us all slaves to its rhythm.

I’ve had enough of the whole ‘creation of life’ being real. It’s a game. We can choose what piece we play on the chess board. Surely?

My home life is going back to what it was becoming before the accident. I didn’t know what was happening to it then and neither do I know what is happening to it now. Although a stirring of feelings is building up and I’m quite sure it’s not going to change. This relationship must end.

I want him to start talking his truth with real meaning, I wish he would but I know he won’t. I don’t know why or what’s going on in his mind. I’m pretty sure he’s not sure what’s going on in my mine either, but I know we are not strong together.

What are we united in. What??...

It’s not love.

Is it staying together subconsciously by the hold of an accident neither of us remember being a part of?

Is it unanswered questions creating a sticky bond? Held loosely together by a void which feeds the consequence of feeling the need to stay together.

Nothing else is sticking this love side by side. It’s like the end of our world. The apocalypse of Her & Him. The beginning of the end has started and I don’t want to cry.

I know he doesn’t want to be with me. I felt it and could see it in his eyes when we were toasting a plastic glass of champagne to a plastic future. Under the roof of the round house on Rookwood Hospital grounds.

I gave him the choice to leave then. Set himself free. Not to stay because I was paralysed.
He stayed and said he would never leave. I felt then as I know now he doesn’t want to stay. I know looking back it was a test to see if he would stay and for how long.

There is only so much a couple can talk about regarding their love and their wanting to be together. If the feelings are there then the conversation of doubt doesn’t need to take place. I have let my partner know, I too am feeling his pain, his suffering, his torment but most of all his distress. I too am feeling lost and in desolation.

He’s lasted longer than I thought he would whatever his reasons be. I’ve stayed with him this long because I’ve needed his help. I haven’t been sure about my love for him on numerous occasions, although I am now 100% sure. I don’t love him and as much as I do need him, I can do it without him...

A lot of people I have called friends and who I have been a fuking good friend too. Seem to have forgotten my mobile and front door number. They are slowly disappearing from the face of the earth.

With the way I’m starting to feel now regarding all mortals, I am hoping they are falling into the fire pits of hell. Where I shall sit awaiting in my chariot on a lava rock, smoking a joint with one hand and swigging JD with the other. Sparkling glee in my one eye as I watch their pitiful souls turn to black coals. To be crushed by my wheels to ash, one by one…

Life is a fuking misery with everything revolving around it. I have no idea what my life has install for me apart from sitting in a fuking wheelchair.
Crowley’s is doing ok. It’s still paying its way. I do miss being there so much. I should be there.

It's paying for Fuk Face to have half of his teeth re-built with titanium. At a cost to me falling just under £1000. Why am I paying for his teeth when I pay him a wage? Well, I don't really know why. I offered and found him a Polish dentist, with the help of my Polish friend and it was cheaper than anyone else. Still doesn't explain why I said I'll pay. Maybe it's to help us both feel better?...

I’m not having a wonderful time in life. I feel all I have to keep me sane and on the right tracks for thinking, is my daughter and our pet Rottweiler.

I love my Dog. We had to introduced a new member to the family . I can’t resist a Rottie.
I think of my last one quite often. He was an awesome, powerful but gentle beauty. Our protector.

R.I.P Our Rottie Osso and our Cats (right to left) Mum, Magick and Cleo

He would gently gnaw away on my arm at times. He’d hold my arm not so much with his paws but rather in his paws. With deep rumbling growls sounding more like he was about to rip it off. Both of us totally submissive as I watch TV rubbed his tummy.

So gentle were his powerful jaws as he tenderly with consideration I may add, pinched and squeezed his teeth into my cushion soft skin before bouncing straight off to another part.

He would allow my daughter to sit on his back for the last stretch home from school. He would sit and guard the shopping in mumbles while I darted into this shop and that. He always walked at my side in front of me by a margin. He was truly beautiful. We would trust him with our lives.

Stolen from me he was. By a family of good for nothing, lying, cheating, thieving, benefit sponging bastards. If you needed anything, go and ask Fat Fuk, the husband, Mutton dressed as Lamb the wife, and their son the Rapist. A Jim Morriston lookalikie always thinking he held the Ace of Spades in his top pocket.

With a family member who bred dogs for a living and another member (apparently) in the police department, it was a no-win situation for me and my dog. I never got him back and never found out where or what had happened to him. Sad times.

These people enjoyed life and living life by making money from another people’s loss that they set the stage for.

Even after 20 years, just remembering that time brings back anger and resentment to that family.

Anyway a few years later my wonderful, amazing and mental staff came along, beautiful dogs Staffordshire Bull Terriers. Five years into our life together my work life became too busy to give him 100% doggy love. So, with great sadness he was re-homed to a good family
the night before my accident.

Me being squashed by the new member of the family, Otto our Rottie

I have always thought that if he was still with me, would he have had any evidence on him in conjunction with what happened on the 16th July. Someone’s hair perhaps or fibres from their clothes, even blood.

I love all animals, cats are free to roam and are totally independent. But dogs, they need the time and patience from the right owner to get them socializing and their behaviour established right from the moment they are taken home. It’s all love and bounce from there on.
That’s why it was right to introduce a new member to my new life as a paraplegic.

I have visions of him harnessed up to the max, looking like a dog ready for a Roman war pulling me in my chariot chair along the prom in all weathers. It’s going to be fun. I can feel it in my blood already. I’m training him as well as I can from a chair, it’s difficult but he’s getting there slowly and it would be faster if help was given when I ask.

Well, it would help if my partner would keep his side of the deal and take him on regular walks. Obviously, there is only so much I can do, and what I do, do, is train the dog. I train him well but with limited walking and exercising the dog becomes harder to train. Giving doggy treats can only last for so long for obedience with rewards.

My man keeps saying, ‘Yes, I’ll take him out… Yes, I’ll pick up the dog shite… Yes I’ll’…
After he’s done whatever it is he is doing on the computer at the time of asking. The time of minutes ticks over to hours and before we know it gone into days.
Then it’s too dark, wet and miserable outside now winter has set in, for my lazy son of a bitch partner to be bothered to breath never mind help me with the dog.

Christmas will be upon us again in a few weeks. Oh, what to do, what to do? Shall we eat out this year or have family time cooking dinner together, larking about with a Christmas hat on, getting pissed. I hold my breath. Who knows. At this moment in time I just want it over and done with….

It's time to say goodnight, sweet dreams and lets see where we pick up next time we meet. My trusted friend Pen... Zzzzz

0 Comments

Part 3… Chapter 10… Independent Living…

19/7/2017

0 Comments

As time flies by I’m finding living with disability harder on the mentals before prevailing improvement on the physicals. Does that even make sense? Life starts all over again day by day in deja-vu land. A very disagreeable but very sure feeling that I’ve done what I’m doing before but still not sure if I know how to do it, but I'm dead certain I have, I can and then I can’t, lol

It doesn’t matter if I’m outdoors rolling or indoors stoning, I see things in a different light and my thoughts and views on us human beings have shifted somewhat.

Now it's my wheels putting my best foot forward to join the human race. They glide me through the streets of dog shit, chewing gum and fag ends. Take-away rubbish is dropped everywhere from dirty lazy bastards. Pot holes, drunken retards and busy shoppers always getting in my way. I just smile.

I have plenty of time on my hands to observe human behaviour like never before. I have observed utter shite given with communication and understanding. The lack of co-operation, and the huge lack of good old fashioned common sense with added intelligence is as popular as someone shitting in the woods. I really do feel I’m on another planet since becoming a paraplegic.

One of my biggest feats of late is cooking for oneself. At least I can trust my own cooking and while home alone it seems a no brainer that I should cook for one. Rather than sit waiting and thinking, is this freshly cooked or has it come from somebody’s secret stash of festering perishables.

So, this morning I decided to put together some scrambled eggs and toast with a strong black coffee. Starting off by reaching for two slices of bread was a struggle in itself, but hey, together with determination it was a piece of piss. At a stretch, lol.

Happy with the first stage complete and bread placed on my lap I wheeled over to the toaster . It’s just in reach for my nails to latch onto the heating dial and pull towards me. The bread goes in I push down the leaver but the thing won’t stay down. I pull on the toaster lead, it’s loose.

‘Are you serious? What is this? Arrhhh!

A couple of breaths needed and taken to calm down my racing heart beat and blood pressure.

All I wanted to do was cook my own breakfast, but couldn’t with ease because someone had unplugged the toaster from the socket. God dam it! Which lives on the wall behind the frigging microwave, that lives next to the toaster. Which stands next to the coffee maker and the kettle. All of which are also plugged on the same wall so there are leads everywhere. AAarrrggghhhh!

Problem… Kettle and toaster share the same socket.

I could see it was going to be a challenging morning…

Grabber to the rescue again. I was not going to be beaten by a bloody toaster and stay famished all day waiting to be fed by my partner when he gets home.

So here we go. This is how it all panned out. The clock starts… now 0.01...

1. I park alongside the worktop with grabber in hand to stretch out and pull forward the microwave that nukes man made food with radiation. The wall behind it revealed the plug socket mayhem

2. The kettle is already plugged in and ready to go, so I switch that on to boil. Followed by a heaped tea-spoon of coffee into my mini mug

3. I whizz around from cupboard to cupboard to get this and that. The race was on, a time to test my wheel skills and balance. I scramble 2 eggs in a glass bowl with a splash of milk and a grating of cheese. Cling film to cover. Stabbed with a folk more times than needed. Ready to be nuked. I'm on a roll so far so good!

4. Kettle boiled, so back to the grid lock of leads to get the toaster plugged back in. Which took great precision to pop into position with the grabber.

5. Flexi lever ready to go. Bread in and waiting to pop

6. Eggs in the radiation chamber are over cooked and the two slices of bread have popped after getting tanned but lay cold and hard. I forgot about the butter it was left in the fridge

7. Boiled water no longer boiled. Toaster needed to be unplugged, kettle re-plugged water re-boiled

And for the lucky number 8

8. I can’t reach a plate!

For fuk sake mun! I didn't think of needing a plate lol

Can I reach for the fruit bowl? I question my thoughts as soon as I spotted it full of vegetables on the worktop for some reason. Where is the fruit? lol. I managed to empty the bowl placing each piece of veg onto the kitchen table one by one with my grabber. Letting each roll and find its own hangout.

By the time all this was achieved and breakfast was ready to serve I was knackered. I had the best seat in the house so I just placed the bowl on my lap and ate breakfast pretty much in the middle of my kitchen.

This took me all of 14 minutes and 22 seconds before eating. Wheeling myself from one side of the kitchen to the other, timing everything to come together just nicely. That was the plan but it kinda went pete tong. The kitchen looked like a bomb had exploded, the house fairy had fuked off for good, leaving my Rottie looking up at me with eyes that I feel were saying, ‘You enjoy that or give it to me' lol...

Although the down days are the hardest to challenge myself on. When my smile returns I keep believing my life will improve. And as long as I keep smiling life can only get better…

What a load of bloody shite. Shitty gibberish nonsense. I’ve always been a smiler, most of the time I have a smile for everybody…

Keep smiling…

Life can only get better…

Fuking hell mun! The only way my life can get better is with some working legs!???? And an extra socket for the toaster lol

Me smiling all the time would make me feel I’m broadcasting to the masses'

‘Hey Y’All, look at me I’m in a wheelchair for life, I can’t wipe my own arse, but hay, I can cook my own breakfast'...

Now that’s what smiling is really all about. Achieving something on my own... lol

0 Comments

Part 3… Chapter 9… Mental Overload…

13/7/2017

0 Comments

The first page in a new diary. The formation of words is like the formation of stars in the galaxy above. Initially it’s the slow process of energy always produced by a mass of thoughts, which migrate then disappear just like a burnt out star.

A smooth surface ready for self-expression. There right in front of you, a great empty space willing you on with ink in hand, to just let it all out. Set your mind free.

They say a picture tells a thousand words. I have yet to come across similar quotes about diary writing. A diary tells a thousand truths, secrets, mysteries and inner glimpses into one’s personal thoughts and perceptions. Honesty not to be shared, and pure human time out with oneself.

I haven’t been in the right head space to write of late. It’s been more of a sponging of all the information my eyes are examining at home and what my thinking is making of it all.

It’s a time of frustration. My inside demon is out and has started to voice its unhappiness.
I need to shake this cloud, this heavy weather my partner has been filling my living space with.

From the moment I came home in a wheelchair he took on the role of my carer without me asking. I’m not saying it’s been easy for him but we got a routine going. Or should I say ‘I had' a routine going. Until our nebular was knocked about in the solar system which left us in its own mass of dense cloud. Which path its gravitational pull rotates us onto is anyone’s guess.

I'm fed up of it all now.

Neglect has started to show in his care for me and our situation. It’s been just as hard for me having him help wash me, dress me, cook for me, clean the house, work shifts etc.

I don’t want to sound negative about him but what he’s doing for me is nothing a mother doesn’t do every day bringing up her family. Us women wipe everybody's fuking arse lol.

He hasn’t shaved in god knows how long and the same goes for a decent shower.

His personal hygiene is just as stale as the house work. When he was out the other day I took it upon myself to go on a little house investigation. To my horror and disbelief I was outraged with his way of not keeping the house in order.

A fuking disgrace.

I looked in the fridge to find fresh produce on top of gone off fungal infested, decomposing decay.
If I could smell, it was probably fuking rank. In fact, with the disorganised and dirty state the house is in now I feel so much anger raging inside me.

What the fuk is this?

If he’s falling he can fall alone.

What the fuk has he been feeding me? OMG!!!!

I took a black bag and threw a fridge full of food into it. I am sooo not impressed with him. When he arrived home later I went ballistic.

He’s losing himself in the here and now. I know now that I lost him a long time ago. I don’t know why. I just know I did.

He was in the utility room today making himself useful while I sat in my chair in the kitchen. Looking over at him I remembered how he reacted to my friends question the other week. He's starting to repulse me.

I asked him why did he speak the way he had and then run away to hide upstairs? The same old blar, blar of bollocks spewed from his snake infested vocabulary.

I stared at him with a hold I couldn’t even blink away as I calmly but in a harsh tone gently roared out the niggle I’ve been carrying inside my head for some time.

‘You did this to me! You done it!?'

He stood as straight as steel staring back at me. Not a word was spoken in response. Not one fuking word. There was silence between us once again.

I said sorry, I didn’t mean it. It was blurred out unfocused and obscure. I don’t know why. I don’t know the why's about anything anymore…

October 17th’ 2008. I have been in hospital for more surgery. This time it was to do with the bladder. I got fed up with peeing every 5 minutes and having the catheter plugged up the pee hole wasn’t the best.

So, I’ve opted for the Suprapubic Catheter which has been inserted from the top of the abdomen straight through into the bladder. A much easier solution which needs to be changed every month.

2008 has been unbalanced on many, many things. Happiness. Motivation. Inspiration. Sex, but most of all Unbalanced Understandings. I haven’t changed in my personality I know who I am. I’m the same old Amanda, but in a fuked up body.

My heart and soul are still in tacked. It’s just the vehicle I get around in has changed from legs to wheels, and a dam fine set of wheels they are.

Back in April this year I put in a claim with the Criminal Injuries Compensation Authority (CICA). Being represented by a company called Napthens. After months of gathering and sending all the hospital and police reports needed. I’ve sat anxiously awaiting in my chair for a tribunal date. A letter finally found its way to my address with news I was not expecting...

0 Comments

Part 3…Chapter 8… Emotional Disconnection 2008…

4/7/2017

0 Comments

Hi Thoughts. I’m sitting up in bed with the LED spot light beaming down like the moon onto the page as I write with the rest of the room in darkness. I have made a king size spliff in honour of Jah. Before I enter the fields of Paradise to make sense of it all once again.

It’s 3.06am. I can’t sleep.

My mind is fully awake. There is so much in there occupying and demanding that I get it all out on paper. It won’t let me sleep until I have unleashed the beast.

Too many thoughts are swirling around in my head each trying to grab a hold of at least one of the spinning question marks. All of which are too big and glassy to be seized by my clutches continuously clawing away.

He was great in the beginning. Everyone thought he was this amazing soul, true love shining through like sparkling gold.

Always the first to jump up and help me.

Do anything for me he would.

When people were around.

Not so much now, when we are on our own.

They don’t see this side of him. He’s been keeping it well camouflaged, but I’ve been seeing it creeping in for some time now. I see it around him. I feel it from him.

In the living room, my bed is situated by the front window. We have put one of the sofa’s able to divide the room not far from the foot end of my bed so there is space for me. Making the rest of the room look more like family living space.

My partner has chosen to sleep there. Not upstairs on the comfy custom made bed that cost me £5000. All for the sake of my disability and a bed big enough for two. Once this house has been adapted I can’t wait for us to sleep on it. It has heated mattresses and a massage function. I think it strange he has chosen not to sleep on it or even take advantage of a massage.

When I’m on my hospital bed, I call over to him when I need something. He is either watching TV, playing a game on the Xbox that I bought him last Christmas, and now wish I didn’t. Or he’s staring vacantly, unoccupied into nothing.

He doesn’t respond, so I call out again. Still no reply. This has been ongoing for a while so I have started to count the seconds between each of my calling for his attention. His care. His love. His wanting to be with me. His wanting to help me.

I call out his name then start to count the seconds. I reach 12, 13, 14, 15 before I call his name again and wait again to be acknowledged.

Other times I have waited longer after a repetitive cry out that has led me to roar.

I know he has heard and understood my voice. There are only two of us in the room.
He just choses to ignore, passes it off as, ‘Sorry I didn’t hear you’.

All I can say to that is Bollocks. You can Fuking hear me alright. You’re not deaf. Your just being a Cunt!!!

I can feel him now. He’s awake. The static energy of his mind hitting mine but we stay in silence. He’s aware that I’m awake with the light on shared with the herb scenting the air in the room.

He’s not sleeping.

Maybe I disturbed him with the light on and my moving about.

I’m wondering why, and how much longer this is going to carry on. My daughter has picked up on our vibe. She keeps asking me if I and He are ok.

I’m brushing her questions aside for now, but the way I have brought her up she is fully self-aware and not stupid. She has noticed that there are a few grapes missing from his bunch.

I’ve settled into my life as a paraplegic quite well even with all the health issues that come with it, now and forever as I take a breath.

The moment my partner stated that he had jumped over the balcony when he saw me lying on the ground helpless. Has always niggled me because even though I have no memory of the night always in question. I’m pretty sure my keys, the ones I used to get back in to and lock up the Cricketers Pub would have been in eye view and an easy find.

My beautiful blond friend who I call ‘Free Spirit’, called over a few days ago. As always it was great spending time with her. We opened a bottle of red and continued our conversation of life and the accident. She turned to face and converse with my partner who had his back to us while he played a game or whatever he was doing on the PC.

He didn’t turn around and face us to engage himself in conversation. He said, with strong conviction and quite out of the blue:

‘I’m fed up and have had enough of talking about it. Everyone keeps asking questions. I don’t want to talk about it. There’s nothing to say’. He then turned the PC off and took himself upstairs. Both us girls watched him disappear. We were dumbfounded. I apologise for his outburst and she apologised for being persistent.

We changed the conversation and carried on slurping, allowing the gracious red wine to adore us with ruby red lips and stained teeth.

Winter has started to spread its destruction across the land. Rain never stops and it makes me feel defeated by stopping me going out.

Fuk, it’s 4.24am.

He’s sleeping now. I can hear him snoring. It’s time for me to join the realm of dreams myself, so good night Pen, lol… Zzzz.

0 Comments