Tag Archives: pain

An open letter to The NHS RE: my ankle

Dear The NHS,

I like you. In fact, I love you. You’re brilliant. But sometimes, just as with all brilliant things, you’re shit. When I thought I had stomach-AIDS-super-cancer-of-doom you were good to me, though two (2) doctors did decide they wanted to get to know me a bit better than I normally known medical staff. You put me at ease, you saw to me quite quickly and it was all smooth sailing. Then the doctor told me I had some of the healthiest blood he’d ever seen, which made us both laugh (genuinely).

But there have been other times. Like back in November of 2008, when I crocked myself playing football. My ankle was quite clearly More Knackered than it had ever been before. It was a fucking balloon. I was hobbling at 0.000000302 metres an hour, such was the agony I was in. The doctor I saw took a quick look, squeezed some bits (not my anus this time) and told me to keep walking on it, and that I would be fine in six weeks.

Two and a half years later, after it’s been in pretty much constant pain, it’s just spazzed out on my while I was exercising and now it hurts a fair bit again. I only did intermediate maths at GCSE, but I think 2.5 years > six weeks. Correct me if I’m wrong.

But my complaint isn’t being misdiagnosed; it’s the fact that the young doctor who saw me was very clearly hugely overworked. He simply couldn’t afford to give me the time necessary if he wanted to try and help as many people as he could in the day. And I know why there were so many people there – I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, The NHS, but you offer your services for free.

I have a suggestion for you: why not try charging money for people to be cured by your voodoo? That way there wouldn’t be all those stupid poor people in the waiting room, slowing down my chance to see a medical profession and recklessly speeding up his diagnosis of my injury. Charge money for these treatments and I could have gone straight in and had all the time in the world with the doctor. We might have even had a cup of tea together.

Then I wouldn’t have re-crocked myself slightly.

Some may argue that poor people being unable to afford medical treatment would mean they’d, like, die or something. But… well… not to sound callous, but so what? ‘Poor people’ is an oxymoron if ever I’ve heard one. They’re not people. They’re barely-evolved apes wearing tracksuits. Let them die. For the good of my ankle, let them die.

Yours,

Annoyed And In Pain, Dorset

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I’m suffering here

COULDN’T BE BOTHERED WITH AN IMAGE. IMAGINE MY FACE.

Unfortunatley I was kept away from doing a proper blog today by a most pressing issue. In fact, I’d go so far as to say it’s one of the most defining events of my life so far, and a deeply affecting situation for me to be in right now. It’s been dominating my mind recently, making me lose sleep and obsess over the silliest of things that really wouldn’t – couldn’t – be important to anyone other than me. I am almost ashamed to be suffering like I am, especially after so many of you told me this would happen. You warned me not to get involved – that it would only lead to hurt. And all I can say is I’m sorry, because I didn’t listen. And now I’m paying the price physically and emotionally.

Game Dev Story is really fucking addictive.

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THIS TIME IT’S WAR

It’s here. I knew the days would arrive, as they do every year, but they hadn’t arrived with the force they normally do. As such I let my guard down. I became complacent. When it did strike, it was with the fury of a thousand nerds screwed out of a Q&A appearance by Edward James Olmos*. My body revolted, my face ejected all the fluids it could produce as fast as it could produce them and everything itched. Fuck you, hayfever.

But like I said earlier this year (this time last month, actually), I am trying new treatments. I am taking the fight to the pollen – though unfortunately not how I’d actually want to do it. With napalm. No, I’m adopting the newfound technique, as suggested by the also-suffering Swissgirl, of taking more than one hayfever tablet a day.

I know – it’s fucking mental.

But you know what? So what. If it kills me, it kills me – at least I’ll have died doing what I did all my life: trying to stop my nose from running as much as it always, always does. I considered lopping the schnozz off, but I couldn’t find a good enough knife. Or at least, a good enough knife that I would be allowed to use to de-schozz my face. As such, the only method available right now – as I’ve forgotten to bring my nose laser with me – is to take multiple tablets to ward off this pollenial incursion of epic proportions.

Wish me luck.

*Honestly, no idea why I went for this reference.

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I am afraid of the summer

Things are starting to get ominous. The air is warmer. I can smell it coming in to ruin my life for a few months. I’ve started sneezing a bit. My nose itches just a tiny amount, but enough to be noticeable. My eyes don’t yet feel anything, but they’re preparing themselves for when they do. But no matter how my body or mind is prepared for it, there’s never any way around it: Hayfever is coming to fuck me up again.

I can write this now as it’s before the diseeeease has taken hold of my frail body. If I tried to put these simple words together in a half-legible fashion a couple of months down the line it just wouldn’t be possible. The streaming nose would make me lose concentration, the streaming eyes wouldn’t let me focus and the streaming… well, just the streaming. And the itching. And the fucking itching. God I hate hayfever.

Now I don’t intend this to come across as one-upmanship, but my hayfever is particularly bad. It’s an allergy to grass pollen, which I’m sure many of you either have or know people who have. The obvious problem there being that summer is an outside time where everyone sits on various different types of grass, and if you say you don’t want to do this you are looked on as some kind of troll-like weirdo who needs to be shunned. Plus there’s the fact that park days are ace. But I’m sure many of you are aware of the irritating effect this has on hayfever sufferers.

Problem is, my body decides to take it a step further and completely dismantle my ability to function as a human being. I have sneezing fits that can last 10 minutes or more. My eyes go bright red and, well – I look a lot like this. It is completely debilitating, even with all the medication, treatments, showers and washed clothes I can think of. But the worst – oh! the worst – comes when someone decides to cut the grass near me. This, quite literally, nearly kills me. My throat tries to close up and my entire head puffs up into this weird ball of steaming red nonsense. It’s definitely when I’m at my sexiest. As well as being something to look forward to for Anna.

I’m looking into new/different treatments this year, as I’m tired of this ridiculous suffering. I mean, for fuck’s sake – it’s hayfever. It shouldn’t get in the way of the whole ‘being alive’ stuff I hear so much about. It’s not like it’s even a real illness (it’s a diseeeeease) or anything to compare to people with real medical worries. But it still completely fucks me up and I really am not looking forward to it coming to ruin a few months of my year. Again.

Plus it’s just bloody embarrassing. For all I laugh at the poor fools allergic to peanuts or cats, at least they’re not allergic to the fucking planet. Ho hum.

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