Rant…

To the man on the lift who thought his shopping trolley should take preference to my crutches – barging one out from under me as it was in his way.

To the woman on the bus who felt her overly large handbag should take priority for the spare seat leaving me standing on my crutches until someone further up the bus offered me their seat.

To the doctor who wrote to my GP telling her my medical exam was unremarkable even though he didn’t actually do a medical exam.

To the woman in the coffee shop who blanked me completely and spoke to my friend as I was in a wheelchair (clearly wheelchair = no brain).

To the woman who tutted at me for being slow even though I was on crutches and in the process of moving out of the way for her to pass.

To the two men who pushed past me to grab the one taxi at the taxi rank. Although the taxi driver had thankfully seen me and told the men to wait as he edged up to collect me, they complained bitterly.

To the nurse who laughed at me as I was unable to stand up unsupported as I clearly ‘looked fine’.

To the barista who thought I was being unreasonable asking her to take my coffee to the table ‘we don’t do table service’ even though I’m on crutches. Should I balance my coffee on my head? Her manager over-heard and chastised her so the cold glare I received when she banged my coffee down onto the table was about as palatable as her coffee-making skills.

To the doctor who rolled his eyes at me when I queried his suggestion about taking Gaviscon for what turned out to be a bowel obstruction.

To the friend who told me to give up on the idea of ever meeting a partner as ‘no man on this earth’ would take me on with my ill-health.

To the man with the disproportionately sized rucksack who lost all sense of its size as he swung it on his back, knocking me over in the process, dislocating my shoulder and then swearing at me as he thought his laptop would be damaged which was clearly my fault.

To the woman getting angry, tutting and making waspish comments in the supermarket queue behind me as I needed the cashier to help me pack my (small) bag of shopping as I can’t use my left hand and being on crutches makes it rather challenging.

To the doctor who said there clearly couldn’t be anything wrong with me as I was wearing earrings.

To the man who glared at me when I parked (with a badge) in a disabled parking space saying loudly to his friend how appalling it is that people abuse the system. He then went on to assume I was clearly a benefit cheat, some kind of scrounger and clearly an illegal immigrant…

To the man who barged in front of me and caused me to stumble over my crutches as another man held a door open for me. (Courteous man was not a happy bunny).

When I’m feeling fragile these things matter. When I’m feeling fragile, such things can crush my spirit and erode the last remaining shreds of fight left in me. However, today I’m not feeling fragile, so they can all fuck right off and I’ll spend my time with all the good people in my life.

Dear Junior Doctor

Dear Junior Doctor, This is a message to all the doctors involved in the current dispute over changes to your contracts. As a career sick person and professional patient (and no, I’m not proud of that), I have had the privilege to be cared for by a great many junior doctors. Strangely I’ve never considered […] Continue reading →

Identity Crisis

My thumb doesn’t know how to be a thumb anymore. It feels awkward and doesn’t know how to sit with the rest of my hand. It trembles, quivers and spasms; its confidence has taken a tumble, and it feels almost alien to the rest of me. It’s either burning hot or burning cold, and it […] Continue reading →