Part 2.... Chapter 6.... 2007

It was time to reopen Crowley’s a few week ago. I’ve got my daughter running the place with the help of friends, and the support of loyal customers. She is having to phone me on occasion when some drunk on a mission to break the rules, is hoping to get away with it as I’m not there. Not listening to her but taking the piss. You know, looking down on her like she is too small and weak to give orders and keep order in a public house. So everyone is happy having a good time with no trouble.

After a few chosen words from me on what she needs to execute to gain submission of the cheeky fuk or fuks. Things settle down and it’s all put to right.
She soon learnt how to gain control of the situation and respect from the players. When the cat is away the mice will play, so the saying goes. But while this cat is away she has left a little kitten that quickly grew up into a bigger cat that took no prey to be kept alive. She learnt from the best, and it hasn't taken long for customers to notice how alike her mother she can be if the need arise.… I’m so proud of my little leader ;-)
 
I’m keeping up to date with both businesses. I’ve got a mobile with me now so I ring all the time, probably getting right on their nerves ;-).
I’m also doing the accounts, paying the bills and stock ordering from my hospital bed. I’m starting to feel alive again with a purpose to live and take control of what I haven’t lost. My determination, adaptability, but most importantly my livelihood. 

Apart from running the club and pub from my bed. I’m also sanding down a handmade wooden statue of a Norse God that my Viking friend has made for me, and another the same but as a pendent. And of course, being the ward DJ I’m in high demand ;-).
I’ve filed my long nails and painted them red and black, super sexy. It goes well with my pirate eye patch, tattoos and shaved head. I’m liking my new look ;-)
 
I’m still hearing stories about the goings on within the outside world of reality. A certain bank has stopped people taking their money out and has closed its doors. It’s got itself into a bit of a financial mess, so decided to take the customers cash to bail themselves out. Cheeky fukers. You should never trust a bank with ya savings. The parents of a British child that was kidnapped in Portugal are being questioned, what’s going on there then, and the bad weather causing tornadoes across the country. This summer hasn’t been great and it looks like winter is going to be even worse this year.

But on a brighter note, DJ’s have been dedicating music to me. Played in support of my recovery at a student’s nightclub called Sin City. With a great vibe, all captured on video. When I saw it, I couldn’t believe it. I felt “special” hahaa ;-) to those who were pissed - I helped them many a time get to that stage - regular customers of Crowley’s and The Office remembering me. The same to all the other dancing head bangers who were also well pissed, didn’t have a clue who I was, but joined in anyway. Singing to the chorus of Crazy Bitch by Buck Cherry. It was great to watch.

Customer’s at Crowley’s sang Black Sabbaths Mr Crowley, which is the anthem to my little Amsterdam look alike club/bar. I remembered it being the last song played by the DJ on the opening night of July 1st 2005, hence why and how it became one of Crowley’s anthem.
 
It’s late now. It’s past 2 am. Silence on the ward has been broken with of the sounds of people snoring and sleep farting. So loud I can hear it even with my room door closed. I give a giggle because it sounds like a croaky chorus, hahaa.

There are a few voices I recognise without the face. Older folk with dementia, yelling out for the nurse or a name of some family member perhaps, I don’t know. All I know is that I hear them night after night. I can hear the confusion and emotion in their voices as they call out, continuously ringing the buzzer or they go for a wander in search of who knows what. I hear the nurse reassuring them of who and where they are as they pass my room and taken back to their bed. It’s so sad :-(

Nurses do have a hard and difficult job. Caring, assisting and collectively working together for every individual need each patient has. It’s all tightly squeezed into a 24/7-time frame. They then go home to their reality. As a patient we forget to think they have one.

I’ve been doing a little light Physical therapy. The physio’ have helped me sit up for the first time in months and sitting on the side of the bed trying to control balance, doesn’t work. We’ve had a few laughs and they keep encouraging me and saying I’m doing well so I have asked if I can sit up in a chair. My body is restless now and I want to move, somehow I need to be in a different position. The Physio’ are going to ask about a chair and get back to me on that one. I’m counting the hours, minutes and seconds rather than the days and still I'm waiting for an answer.
I’m getting impatient now and I want answers and action on a lot of questions and requests, but it’s all about the wait…. …. ….
I’m still waiting so I’ve refused to cooperate with any more physio until I get a chair…. …. …. Yes, I know... I'm in spoiled brat mode.

They brought in a chair today, a wheel chair on a strange angle and no big wheels to push myself around in but it’s a chair nonetheless…. I was so excited, the child within came out to play.
Wow, fucking wow…. What a strange feeling it was getting onto and sitting in a chair ;-) a strange thing to say I know, but I wasn’t paralysed the last time I sat in a chair.
I can only feel the chairs back rest on my back shoulders, my arse, back and legs haven’t got a fuking clue what they're  sitting on ;-)….