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Painkillers for breakfast again…

I am still getting pain from having to plant plants in haste, as I was let down at the last minute. I went to bed at 9pm last night as I was so very tired. It can take up to a week for me to recover from gardening, especially when I have not planned ahead to do manageable tasks.

As a friend pointed out, free often comes with a catch. I just did not expect to be slandered so cruelly on a website. People I have never heard of joined in, saying bad things about me or sympathizing without realising there are two sides to every story. Even saying they’ve met me. I’ve actually only met three people from Nextdoor, and two became very good friends.

A jealous person has tried to use the website to speak ill of me, and later accepted an invitation from me. I know where they live now.

I actually care not what people think of me. The people that matter know me to be kind. The rest mean nothing. I help strangers all the time. I help whoever I can on Nextdoor.

It’s funny, the guy I welcomed to Nextdoor and later mentioned free gardening was, I thought, a school friend of my daughter, who I had also welcomed that day. I know he would never have broken his word, or slandered me all over a website.

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Pain and planting…

This morning the pain I had seemed to prohibit any productivity. I found an old poem on Facebook a few days ago, so I reworked it a bit and submitted it to a publication. I was in tears, both from pain and the events of yesterday. I”ve been in touch with my friend Judy a bit more than usual.

On my mind were the plants I needed to get planted. I took a strong pain killer, and sent a text to my cleaner saying I would need help in the garden, after they had done the most important tasks.

I sat in the garden with a cup of coffee, a kneeling pad and filled a window box with pinks, and forget me nots. I took this down to my neighbours’ who are so kind to me. As I came around the corner, I heard my name and saw a red Audi sports car. I wondered who it was. The woman took off her sunglasses and it was Juliet, the neighbour whose house I was heading to. John, her husband was waving and they said they were off to fetch their little daughter. I told them I was on my way with the the window box. We all laughed and went our ways. On Friday, John and his son put together some chairs for my garden.

Getting back to my garden, I asked my cleaner to tip soil into a planter. I then planted five plants in it with their help. I’ve had to order more soil. The rest of the plants are in the shade waiting for the soil to arrive.

I surveyed the weeds left in the garden. It was a heart sink moment. Especially as the forget me knots were gone. I will have to get in a pull them up. There’s nothing else for it. I simply can’t afford a gardener.

My cleaner said that he knows nothing about plants. But he does as he is instructed. And does it well. I can’t name every plant there is, but I can tell a lot by the foliage to put it in the right place.

I need another painkiller now, as this afternoon is adding to the pain from this morning. I don”t know how I’ll be in the morning. I don’t want to think about it. I’m usually asleep by now, but pain prevents.

He’s not just a skilled handyman. He’s Pete Lambert.


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Shrill drills and other stories…

I was awakened this morning by the whine of a very high pitched drill. I cringed and felt the pain it causes in my nerves. It went on for too long.

I have started on antibiotics again. Yesterday, I heard fluid in my chest. I will continue with steroids too. I almost called an ambulance, but I feel in charge now. I am trembling and have a temperature.

My daughter seems to be the poster girl for her company. She is doing well in Oxford, and it seems she would like to stay there.

This causes me a huge dilemna. I don’t want to be parted from her, with only visits, yet I don’t want to leave my garden or have the hassle of moving.

If I move, it will be to somewhere that will give me palliative care. I cannot go on like this, surely?

I am so grateful that the neighbours with the windchimes left. Had I known that mentioning them here would get rid of them I would have doneit sooner. What cruel, cold, vile people they were to deliberately cause me pain. I can only pity them.

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Strange times…

England has just back stepped in it’s opening up of the economy. I think this was inevitable. One cannot pretend a virus is ‘under control’ while there are still infections occurring. Indeed, people are still dying of Covid 19 here. This is not a second wave. The first wave is not over.

For the last ten days or so, I have woken thinking I have Covid 19. Whether this is becauseof dreams, or because I wake with a dry throat, I don’t know. I think my dry throat or sore feeling is the chronic fatigue that I get once or twice a year.

I started this summer waking very early and not sleeping well. Now I don’t wake early and find it hard to get out of bed. Sleep comes more easily, but is reluctant to leave. My mornings are sluggish and reluctant. Next week I have an X-ray appointment before noon. That will be a challenge.

My late mornings correlate directly with the loss of seeing the harbour from my bed. For fifteen years I have only had to rise on one elbow to see the vista of the the water and boats. I can still see the harbour but have to leave my bed. It is no longer my constant companion while writing or thinking. Daydreaming.

It is a bereavement, a grief, and one I feel keenly. If I am struggling this much now, how much more worse will it be in winter? It is unimaginable. And yet I have my garden. It bearsfruit. I have just picked and eaten my second fig, and tomorrow’s is marked out. They are so refreshing, so sweet, so unimaginably good. There are strawberries and tomatoes waiting, blueberries ripening. And my flowers. My trees.

So, there are many not as fortunate as I am. Counting my blessings and gratitude for what I have is my strength. It keeps me going in hard times when my mood is low.

My only regret in life is that I married the man I did. But then I wouldn’t have my daughter. I often think of dropping the name Brady, but the expense and inconvenience are too much.

My pain is manageable. Most days I have none and then my hip will start to hurt. That is manageble. Meditation and prayer take it away.

I am aware of my body though. There is always a sensation somewhere. And I know I look different and I wonder how many men would talk to me if I didn’t.

We need to stop putting the economy ahead of human lives. This virus kills and when it doesn’t it can leave nasty side effects for life or a long time. This will be with us for a long time.

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A better day…

Today has been much better. The pain in my hip has been considerably less. I am taking painkillers now and have done as necessary for a few days. I had a phone appointment with a doctor from my surgery. We are trying for an X-Ray, although they are now really only checking for fractures. I said I would prefer to have one than wait for the second spike of Covid-19 when the weather is cooler, and when my hip might be more painful than I can cope with.

We shall see.

I have been editing for most of the day. It really is a tedious task, which boggles the mind. I’ve also been in close contact with a friend who is an artist, though she hasn’t done any for ages. She writes.

I picked my first tomatoes today. The flavour is amazing. Not like shop bought ones that are picked early. I shall have some with basil and mozzarella, drizzled with oil. I will roast some with a sprinkle of pepper.

There are strawberries in the the kitchen too, and lots more ready to crop in a day or two.

I may plant some spinach as the weather is good. So lovely in a salad, or wilted in a stir fry.

I am still rather low, but went out for a while this morning. It made me feel better. I’m glad today was not too hot, though certainly warm.

I feel pleasantly tired.

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I am terrified…

The pain in my hip has returned. It is no longer a biting pain that come and goes when I meditate on it. It is pain that brings tears and travels down my leg. Yesterday I prepared no food. I drank the protein drink that I use to minimise carbohydrates in my diet.

When I stand, the pain is terrible and I stagger until my leg obeys my brain and then I walk awkwardly with pain at each step.

This started at the end of last week. It went away, and only niggled. On Monday, when I helped the young woman, I was not aware of it and it was not until Thursday that I felt a need to do something, by my surgery was closed. On Friday it was much better but now I am so scared.

I had my first hair appointment today. I was really worried about how I would cope. I didn’t cope well. I literally hobbled in and to the sink and back to the chair.

The mirrors make me hate myself. I get by in life by not seeing what I look like. I came away ready to crawl into a hole, except my hair looks great.

The nerves down my leg hurt most of the time. My hip at times hurts just motionless, and as I type. Part of me wants to fall so that an ambulance will come. Initiating anything medical or surgical terrifies me.

There are so many times I wish I had died when I had my brain surgeries. I hate my body. Although it was not as bad as it is now, I have never had the joy of a beautiful body. Tall, slim, and athletic. Wearing anything I wanted to.

I want my Dad. I want him to cuddle me.

In the salon, The Scientist by Coldplay came on and I feel so relieved that Mike chose to reject me. Who would want me. And yet I long to to have a hand to hold in the night.

Why is life so cruel? Oh God that I have loved and served, why is this happening to me?

Haven’t I suffered enough? Is there no end?

I am terrified and don’t want to give up my home and garden.

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A surreal day…

This day has been long and surreal. My ankle and leg hurt. They should be getting better. The bruising on my back is reducing but is still tender very tender.

My breathing is fairly OK but has been wheezy once or twice.

Realising the reason my life has been so stressed for more than a year is so devastating. It has impacted my health, given me anxiety, and it so from a very sick mind. I know how sick one’s mind has to be to do stuff like that.

I got plans for my neighbourhood yesterday. They want to turn the whole neighbourhood into a smaller Manhatten Island. I am sick to the stomach and everyone I know wants to move away.

I already want to for other reasons, but I’m not well enough to move. And my garden. I love it too much. I could not live in a flat. It would need a roof terrace or something for me to even consider it. But I can’t make a move. Coming here 15 years ago, it took me two years to recover.

I have contacted a local news station to come and do a story about how the planning office screwed me over and I’ve launched a campaign to get planning law changed.

I am so weary. I watered my garden at daybreak again, but dozed afterwards.

Someone tried to get into my Amazon account again. I haven’t used it since I bought a thank you gift for ex neighbours, one of whom spends time writing malicious letters about me.

So I gave it to Michael, but I’m sure it got chucked out. She even wanted to read our emails to each other. That comes from a very sick mind indeed.

And someone is using my Apple ID which I have never used . I keep getting emails about this. One just arrived.

And so it goes. I am enjoying the weather. My brain feels like it might belong to a goldfish. I forget everything within two seconds.

I wrote two articles about George Floyd and how Minneapolis should be a reckoning for the US. The executions of black people by shooting, by suffocation etc has to stop. Long ago it should have stopped.

The Statue Of Liberty should sink her knees weeping, and Monument Valley should crack and crumble. Darkness should cover the sun, and the moon should hide.

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X-Ray and hot pain…

I’ve lost a few pigs. Only a few are welcome back.

So I contacted my surgery and a doctor I’ve never met phoned me back. He kept cutting me off, and I noticed he did it with the paramedic he sent out.

Yes. There are paramedics at my medical centre. But she carries no equipment. So not that impressive.

But she decided what I already knew. An X-ray is a good idea. I may have a tiny bone fractured or broken.

I said I will only go to an appointment as I’ve protected myself since March 7, and I’m not putting myself at risk in bug city.

So I was to phone a number given to me. I did. I told I had to wait until they heard from my doctor. They would call me.

Except they didn’t. I asked my surgery when the doctor had contacted X-ray. Two minutes after my call to them. Yes. I know.

About ten days ago, my gum was bruised by the edge of a banana chip. I love them. It hurt for about four days. I was surprised. My magical tongue just found that it cut the gum just where tooth protrudes and my tooth needed dental care. Now I fear the tooth may need major work. If this is the case I shall have it removed. I cannot cope with dental work. I had one removed years ago because I was told I needed a ‘bridge’, whatever that is. She said, I can’t take out your tooth. I said yes she could because as she rightly pointed out it was my tooth.

I never had a problem with my teeth until first became pregnant. I gave all my reserves of calcium to my baby. This is said to be a myth, but one gets free dental care for the first year after giving birth. And I know other mums who experienced similar.

My back is still like a sponge. It still hurts a lot.

I got almost all my gates painted on the outside. (very painful but sitting). I was so happy. Then I realised it needs a second coat. ***** bleep bleep bleepity bleep.

My blog is read by nosey parkers looking for stuff they won’t find, eh Helen???

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Still suffering and the rudeness!!!

Yesterday evening I was coming home from looking for my friend, and yet again my neighbours had a visitor’s car in our shared access. I was cross. I”ve put up with a lot and smiled.

I went in to ask if it could be moved as they don’t/can’t ask for my consent.In lockdown that car was there all day one day. Which was illegal.

And it turns out that last night there were two visitors in the house which is also illegal.

So a door was slammed in face. Rude. The illegal guest came out and started bossing me around in a thick foreign accent. Rude.

I come into my garden and I hear them talking about me. A language I don’t speak, but obvious. Rude.

They have repeatedly turned up their TV so loud that I cannot think. I suppose they think that having it louder makes it easier to understand. Stupid.

Their dog has yapped maddengly.

What is it about that house? Oh well yes, they were written to by a very malicious former neighbour but she threw stuff over my fence with no provacation.

The only one that was never rude to me was Anya, a lady from Slovenia. And her departure is blamed on me to with a lie.

The owner gave me problems too, a very rude man. A neighbour across the road told me he has mental health problems or learning difficulties.

I had to call the community police a few times when he was intransigently threatening. I was terrified him.

This morning I awoke with pain from ankle to hip. I somehow got myself out to water my garden and watched the beauty of water sinking into the soil.

It was 5am. I used watering cans that I had filled yesterday.

I called for a doctor at 8.30 am. I slept from just before 10am until 1.30pm.

I am waiting for a call back from X-ray for an appointment. I kept myself safe since before lockdown as it was too late. I will not compromise myself now.

I think I will go and sit and paint my gates.

I know some lovely people. Why do I get the horrid ones next to me?

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Foxes in the neighbourhood…

This meme made me smile.

So now my whole left leg hurts from foot to hip. I took a nap and woke to pain in my foot and leg. Hot and throbbing.

My daughter was firing questions at me while on the phone. I don’t wake easily. At first I dreamt it. Then didn’t understand where I was. I see my daughter on her phone and think I’m in hospital.

It dawns on me that I need to reply. But her question makes no sense. She wants the name of my medicine. She should know. I sorted out my prescription last week.

I tell her my medicine through a fogged brain and dry mouth. I don’t understand anything. She asks about painkillers. I’m not understanding why.

She starts reading medicine from my nightstand. She ends the call.

She tells me the pharmacy have had no prescription for me since March. No… I remind her she got my script from them last month. She starts telling me she’s solved it for me. Solved what…?

So my leg is hurting like mad. I’ve got a freezing cloth on my ankle. My thigh I took a painkiller.

Painting gate was worst idea ever. But I need to save money. My daughter has left.

I may need an ambulance, I have no other way to get to hospital.

We have a family of foxes in a neighbouring field. They leave poo in my garden. There’s a fox vixen further afield. She had to be destroyed.