- Post Number 21: The first becomeone fundraiser
- Post number 22: The start of feeling distraught at...
- Post 23: Sadness (cond) at losing Tash
- Post number24: Passing my driving test (again)
- Post number 25: What to do for my 31st
- Post number 26: Peter and Imogen Lee to the rescue...
- Post number 27: 'Missing the Boat'
- Post number 28: Introducing inspirational Carlie
- Post number 29: Extreme jealousy
- Post number 30: NHS Communication (or lack thereof...
- Post number 31: Bad vs Good things for the first t...
- Post number 32: A bit of a blur’,the autobiography...
- Post number 33: Helena Christiansen and a 'concret...
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7 Mar 2008
Post 23: Sadness (cond) at losing Tash
Ok, so it’s now Friday and I’m not feeling a whole lot better, I’m not sure I can bear to feel this bad for seven years (the length of time that me and Tash were on and off together) 7 years because apparently that’s how long it takes, that’s probably bollocks but for some reason I remembered and believed it. Sounds symmetrical, must be true etc. etc… I particularly want to thank those who have sent me nice messages of suyport, particularly Steph Foster’s comforting and perceptive message, her fiancé is a lucky man. It is probably going to be one of the main things I am going to miss about Tash (here we go again). Aside from her beauty, I am really going to miss her intelligence and perception)From what I have heard about stroke, one of it’s major side effects appears to be the tragic demise of relationships. Despite the obvious (and multitudinous) problems our relationship faced (trust me there were plenty) I thought a strong enough foundation of love and care would see it weather the worst of storms (and believe me this is as bad as it gets!)…Enough Jackie Collins, I can’t wait to get to this house in Oxshott, or probably more accurately I can’t wait to get out of the TLU. For starters, this place is becoming less pleasant to live in every day, take this morning and don’t get me wrong I empathise and sympathise with the other patients but can’t help thinking that a transitional Living Unit is not the place for a Polish guy ( who can walk but can’t speak or swallow properly) There was I thinking that transitional living in rehab was about establishing normal social links with people before going out into the real world again. All Andrzes seems to do is shout (nonsense of course) and disrupt stuff. Just this morning two other inmates almost had a fight over breakfast – John, another non talker (it must be so frustrating for him! He has this habit of sneaking up behind people in his power wheelchair and then shouting in there ear to scare them. He did this to Richard (the guy who sounds like an Irish drunk) Richard failed to see the funny side and started to shout and swear at John, this started off one of Johns uncontrollable rages that (I hope) has been brought on by his brain injury and ended up with these two wheelchair bound guys shouting at each other across the breakfast table with John having to be restrained by the staff, It’s small wonder I am hating it here, I feel like some disabled extra trapped in a sick real-life (but much worse) version of ’one flew over the cuckoo’s nest’ and things seem to be getting worse. I always used to joke to myself whenever I drove into London up the A3 and would see this huge building on the right of the road with this big sign saying Royal Hospital for Neuro-Disability,”I hope I never end up in that Nuthouse” and here I am. Careful what you pray doesn’t happen to you This is absolutely true by the way,That is exactly what I used to think when driving past this place although it transpires it’s not a nuthouse. Could have fooled me! Being here is certainly driving me insane!