Blog Archives

Part 3... Chapter 17...Unexpected Expectations…

27/9/2017

So here I am with Pen in hand ready to pour out the spoils of unexpected expectations that have been charging at me from all directions, but slightly out of range for me to grab and give a dam good shaking too.
I haven’t written anything for months and I hear the paper shouting out, ’Let’s be ‘aving it then’, lol.

It’s been a very long and slow agonising few months. This time more on the mental and emotional than the physical. Presumptions with actions going around and around on a carousel that no one can find the generator to switch it off.

May of 2009 has arrived just as quick as yesturday ended and as slow as tomorrow attempts to break into my dreams before I’ve even gone to sleep to wake up with its dawn. I’ve been a paraplegic woman for 26 months now, with the last two being wheel-loose and fancy free... Single.

Both Him and I had put a lot of time into trying to find somewhere for Him to afford to live which would mean claiming benefits. Or He could work more in His garage as well as the cellar job in Crowleys and wouldn’t need to claim benefits. That part we didn’t talk about, the rent landlords charge these days are ludicrous for the smallest of rooms, so it was Him who decided He would look to share.

I was fine with that at the time but over those coming days He was on the computer chuckling and tapping away on the keyboard quicker than words ever came out of his mostly muted mouth... Hmmm. Never underestimate a woman, no fuk that, never underestimate me.

I felt a woman in His thoughts. Running through His veins. The feel of His lust was making Him all aflutter and flirty with the pulling power of pussy behind an avatar. I asked Him who He was engaging with that made Him laugh so. He answered ‘No-one’.

Hahaaa, yes, He’s talking with a woman. Fuking idiot.

I asked again a few days later as I placed a mug of tea next to Him on my desk, that He was sitting at using my PC as usual. After He had stopped the keyboard finger dance He grinned casually half glancing my way, and replied with ‘No-one, just one of the boys’.
Which meant that there was someone and not no-one. For Fuk Sake Mun....

Come Now Mr Liar, are you His demon? Keeping all His affairs privately locked away in His head? Body language lets Him down. His balls must be bulging by now? After all, He has been in a sexless relationship with a cripple for what seems like perpetual eternity lol.

I haven’t heard Him, self-pleasure so I can only estimate the mass volume of swim away sperm getting very eager to fuk beaver. But then again, I can’t say our sex life before the accident was that riveting on the max control of my pussy, so whoever it is He is talking to, she is welcome to His quick dip.

With no luck on the accommodation front, I sat in the summer sun out in my shit hole of a back-yard thinking of a friend I hoped would step in and help. After all, that is what friends are for, right? When in need an all tha’.

Plus, I had helped him out in the past mostly by listening to his woes and of course by giving him a car, for free. So he could go and see his children and get around from A to B.
The Fat Fuk disrespected me by never looking after the car or fixing it when needed until it worked no more... Some People!!!!!

You know that stupid old saying ‘You don’t give to receive’. Well, I have never felt the necessity of the wanting and needing to receive, until now. So, putting dumb and dumber
together deserved a slap to the forehead for not thinking of this before.

I was first introduced to this guy at my home down in Mumbles years back. When a friend and the owner of a pub that I was the manager of, brought him down with them for lunch. It was also to announce the news that he would be working with me. I was the manager and felt that there was no need or reason to hire more staff.

I didn’t ask any more questions or point out the obvious, I just handed him a ham sandwich took a draw on my spliff followed by a slurp of my coffee.

He is tall, big, fat and ugly. Thank god, his personality allows you to see past all that and I say all that because he is big, fat and fuking ugly. On our first night of working together I was sceptical of how he, me and the rest of my team were going to move around each other behind the bar.
By the end of a very busy night I praised him well for his work and said, ‘You move well for a fat cunt’. The shock on his face from my words was priceless, a second later we both laughed and became friends from that point.

So, he was the one I got in touch with to ask if he would be willing to take in a lodger for a wee while. Fat Cunt, Me and Him all met up and headed down to the Langland Brasserie to discuss further.
After food and drink the conversation took a turn and began an awkwardness of silence between friends. Mainly implemented by Him being slightly and notably silent, but in agreement as usual with every word I skillfully played out for Fatty’s ears.

I am sitting opposite Fatty, looking at him straight in the eye, talking a load of shite about ‘Our’, his friend’s, situation. I kept it light and to the point as to why ‘I’, ‘We’, were asking for his goodwill to shine through.

With a few adjustments made on the actual truth and reason of why I was asking Fatty to take ‘It’ in. I done it my way to save face for both Me & Him.

Trust is a big issue with me especially when it’s about my private, personal, behind closed doors life. And just how much I divulge is purely grounded to the ears of which it is put upon. I haven’t known Fatty long enough to trust him to keep our affairs between the three of us. What I do know is that he is the only person I must ask.

1 Comment

Part 3… Chapter 16… ‘It’ Didn’t take much Cajolery…

18/9/2017

1 Comment

March has arrived, it’s mid evening and I’m chilling with some music and of course life’s great companion Mr Bud. Joined with my besties, Pen and Paper, as I can only do so much finger tapping without going mad, so here we go Pen, do your worst…

I didn’t need to use deception or manipulation or give Him a Chinese wrist twist. He almost jumped out of the chair with joy, trying to contain the relief I could see in his eyes. I have no doubt that he could see it in mine, we were on the same track.

We sat down like adults and talked….
Fuk me, it sounds unreal that we communicated with some respect and I think a bit of understanding was thrown into the mix. We are no longer one together, we are back to being single individuals.

Now he suddenly has this rush of energy, which has probably been laying dormant over the years to make sure He can take flight without delay. His enthusiasm for life has perked Him up no end. It's as if He's had gallons of energy drinks bringing on a right mental buzz.

He’s now busy on the PC wholeheartedly looking for a house share or a one-bedroom flat. As I lay on my bed behind Him writing and scrutinizing how much attention He is giving to the screen of rolling accommodation.

He’s acting like such an eager little dog ready to explore the outside world. Bless Him. Yes, I seem to have a venomous trickle of discontentment with his aura around me. That’ll be Lucifer again, I can’t seem to shake the little fuker off my shoulder pad. I roll my eyes, lol.

Our discussion went as follows;

After the emotional talk, we could start breathing in clean air and speak with reflexive consideration of each other’s essential reality now. Introspection on ourselves and shared openly to each other was the only way forward.

He’ll move out, but will still come over to help me a few hours here and there until I call in and get registered with home care. It’s something I’m not going to enjoy, a stranger’s hands touching my body and not feel it, it takes me back to being in hospital-land.

This time someone will be walking around my house putting everything in the wrong place no doubt. Or just not doing what and how things are done for a para in a para’s house, but I am willing for the replacement to take the vacancy in my new existence.

Life doesn’t give you choices all the time. This time I made the choice to kick Him out and that leaves me with no choice but to have home care and be put on the register with Social bloody fucking Services. Who are nosey and mostly useless, so I was told in my hospital days.

I not only belong to the NHS with monthly appointments for so many different departments until my last breath. But I will belong to this Government as a Service User for Vulnerable Adults. Fucking hell mun. I need to chill my thinking on this one. It’s time to take a toke…

I’ve had time to think…

‘Vulnerable’, who came up with the word ‘Vulnerable’, to describe the cripples of this country, be it physical or mental. We are all vulnerable here in shitty Great Britain and that’s mostly because of this shitty Government, whether your abled or disabled.

To be labelled ‘Vulnerable Adult’’ is something I do not want to be tattooed with. We are all in a vulnerable position every second of the day. People fall out of bed by just bending over to put their socks on.

There are millions of accidents in the home every year by able bodied people alone. 12,000 + deaths a year from falling down the stairs at home.

At Rookwood Hospital Spinal Cord Injury Unit, two beds down from me lay an older lady, who slipped and fell while walking from the kitchen toward the living room with a hot chocolate. She is now paralysed from the neck down.

Everything is ‘Vulnerable’. Cats, dogs, even the birds and the bees are all fuking vulnerable. Cars, bikes, shops, homes, mobile phones, identity, all vulnerable and exposed to the possibility of being stolen. The trees, the rivers and seas, the toxic air we breathe, it’s all bloody vulnerable.

'Service User' is bad enough but will have to pass the start line as it is a service that I will require longterm. They can shove the word ‘Vulnerable’ up their arse tho... No doubt to be continued...!

I love the word Empowerment. It reminds me of when I was studying Welfare Studies, way, way back. "Individuals are given empowerment to create their own identity, lifestyle and choices". Authority given to someone to do something for and by themselves to better themselves. Oh the power to have control of your own life, actions, thoughts and views, must be fuking amazing. C'on here, my eyes are rolling again lol.

Fuk. I could go on and on and on… I am not a 'Vulnerable Adult', a crippled one granted but I’m not defenceless, weak or powerless to know what action is needed to keep myself as safe as anybody else. The one who should be labelled as a ‘Vulnerable Adult’, at this time is Him, and because of this I am willing to help It.

I will help Him find somewhere to live. Both of us have agreed that wheelchair access would be ideal so I can call over for a visit. Plus, it will be good wheelchair practice for me to be out and about on my own rolling here and there. He will still help me at Crowleys by cleaning the cellar and beer lines.
With pay, of course…

There was so much I wanted to bring up in our cosy chat but it didn’t seem to matter because I could see from his face that it would mean nothing to him. He wanted out. I did feel a bit sad with his high-speed response to moving out.
Saddened not for me but for His own inner soul and selfish means, I call it ‘Self-Syndrome Lock In’. We all got to look after number one. So maybe he’s the same as me but genetically geared with different cogs in a submissive way.

1 Comment

Part 3... Chapter 15... The Morning AFTER the Night Before…

11/9/2017

0 Comments

It’s a beautiful day. No more snow, not that we were knee deep in it, but it’s still cold with the sun shining through the clouds and I’m shining with it. In my own moronic way, I’m feeling happy. Preposterous a feeling to have when I’m the one with a disability about to tell the other ‘with’ ability to Fuk Off outta that front door as soon as can be. I want the keys to my house, my business and my car, back in my hands.

God, it felt good writing that just then… Real dam good… lol

Our train has crashed. Now is the time to filter through all the debris. The remains of our relationship wreckage. The scraps of civilized vocabulary, and the dregs of true feelings at least, would show respect before He leaves My Home. My future. My life. My heart. But I doubt He will ever be erased or even obliterated from my thoughts… mores the pity.

To get through the remains will have to be done in stages. This time I’m sitting on the right shoulder and siding with the Angel. You see, I do have a heart all soft and squidgy in the middle, but only open to show my heart is in working order for a brief time. There are only so many tick tocks my heart pendulum can swing, before its hard-shell closes all its sides around her for safe keeping once again.

The morning after His grand entrance the night before was, let me just put it mildly, a fuking disaster. As He is my main carer I wasn’t going to let my care be on his hungover clock watching. I called over to Him at the usual time, and that took immense effort from my screaming lungs. The start of the day was going pete tong. There wasn’t any conversation, it was too early for that, and boy did I have things to say. But I kept it all in. I did make it onto my chair tho, eventually.

He lay there on the sofa suffering the after effects of Mr Alcohol. ‘Good’, the devil on my left yells down my ear lol.

Anyway, while He undergoes the experience of feeling like a twat from His own affliction. His survival throws back torture and pain to his body and brain.

While I sit at the computer desk tapping away today’s events as they happen. Which isn’t much in the form of anything amazing, like breathing, apart from my thinking, keyboard letter clicking, toking my spliff and slurping gulps of water.

I have loud reggae vibes surrounding my soul, the volume pumped up high enough for me not to hear His snoring grunts.

At some point today when the time is right I have decided to tell him that He will move out. I won’t throw Him onto the streets, but we need to separate and have time to focus on what the future holds for the two of us.

Who knows, maybe a short break will be the tonic that’s needed now we both know what our life changes are.

Barhaaa, haha, ha… Ooh fuk, I’m gonna give myself a slap for that last sentence!

God, I hate being all so fuking understanding of another person’s feelings when I’m in the same dire straits and worse off... Ok, shit. I must remember I’m on the angel’s side right now but the devil keeps butting in lol. I feel like a big kid. Fuk, I best make another spliff, lol… back in 3…

Ok, I’m back. I made myself a sandwich and a coffee to go with, while my hearing kept catching the sound of Him snoring out of sync with my music in the background. As I rolled my way back through into the living room, A.K.A Piss ‘Ed, stirred and turned to greet me with hungover eyes.

I scattily reminded him of the state he was in and that the next time He sees my daughter he has to apologise. That was it at this point… Hmmm, I don’t think we’ll be having the chat today, it’s late afternoon already and He’s in no fit state to try. Never mind, tomorrow ain’t that far off.

I’m going to be putting it to Him as clear and as pressurised as He wants it to get.
I will trust my instincts this time and its telling me that He’s not going to go against anything I propose He, ‘We’ do.

Knowing Him the way I do, He’ll be sitting or standing giving the impression without realising it himself, that He has been turned into stone. Apart from a few of His body parts being; One of his hands will be positioned and slightly balanced on his chin, as he gnaws away persistently at his finger nails with his nibbling teeth, and unblinking eyes.

So, until tomorrow keyboard, it’s good evening from me…

0 Comments