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Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson

Went to see my specialist today, having put off our appointment for the last three weeks for various different reasons that always seemed to involve me being somewhere that wasn't Dublin. This morning, dragged out of my pillow fortress by my mother who seemed to think it was important to keep telling me my age, I was paraded in front of my specialist who declared herself "very optimistic" about my condition. I'm mighty glad that she is, I can tell you.

She asked how I had been getting on, and I think I played it on the safe side by not mentioning the 7.5 hour wait for David Gray in the cold, the 8 hour journies to and from London by boat and rail, the nights out in Whelans dancing and stalking minor pop stars, the tours around the Burren, the double wedding plans, or the heavy drinking that led to a lot of the above, because I think she may well have frowned upon those kind of antics. We discussed my posture, the excercises I'm supposed to be doing, the fact that I still can't put my feet flat down on the ground, the leg cramps and the problems that I apparently still have with hypertension. But she still declared that she would indeed be "very optimistic". I was pleased for her, and glad that someone was feeling happy and content in her position.

She gave me some lovely, tasty sleeping tablets as apparently sleep is very important, and advised me to avoid sitting down as much as possible, and that I should really opt instead for lying down or standing up. This of course rules me out of getting any meaningful work placements for another little while, so it's probably extremely lucky that I haven't bothered my arse to go looking for something. It's almost as if I already knew.

Mum, though, has decided that I need some rehabilitation in order to become once more a useful member of society, and has decided that decorating my old bedroom is the way to go about it. So I helped yesterday by pulling all the wallpaper off the wall. That was a lot of fun, and I wanted to continue in other rooms, but when I started "helping" in the sitting room, she screamed and sent me back into my pillow fort.

This entry was posted on 16 March 2004 at 7:52 pm. 0 comments

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