Life in the city

It is most interesting to observe people whilst walking to college every morning. Almost everyone is in a hurry and going somewhere. Those who aren't, stand in the middle of the sidewalk and annoy others. Or those with backpacks and maps, who wander aimlessly. Annoying.
I've lost count how many times I've been targeted by an elbow into ribs or just a casual bone breaking bump into various other parts of my body. The faster I walk, the more it hurts. Until I learned to walk defensively and now get my own space quite easily. The City of London is no place for a morning stroll.
They talk about cyclists, and how dangerous cycling is in London. Very true. A young woman died last week near where I live in an accident, where she was hit by a lorry. On most days I pass by the set of traffic lights near the Bank underground station and there are still flowers in the memory of this young woman. I quite fancied a bicycle ride to work, but then realized I am close enough to the college and walking is an option. Being smashed by a passerby with a handbag or an occasional elbow into ribs is still a lot better than riding a bike in heavy traffic in an unknown place.

Riding a bike on the left side of the road is another challenge... I may have done it in the past, yes, in London, but I think those adventurous days are over.

July 7, 2015. Ten years on from the date when London was struck by terrorist attack. I was here and remember walking home, because there was no public transport. 52 people lost their lives and more than 700 were injured. I was watching a documentary about the events on that day on TV yesterday. I often wonder what would have happened had I boarded one of trains or the bus. There were delays in the morning and I took another Circle line train. I usually took the DLR to Bank and walked to work from there. This time I took an alternate route, and must have passed Aldgate station not long before it all happened. I'm obviously still here writing this, but it could have easily been a very different story.
On this coming July 7, we'll walk again. #WalkTogether www.bit.ly
Take care of yourselves.

Pride 2015

What else can go wrong?

The start of another vacation: nearly missed the flight, because of getting lost and waiting by the wrong gate. Nearly boarded the wrong plane too. Once in the aircraft, I  sat in the wrong seat, but thankfully there were a lot of empty seats and there was no need to change. Then later I messed up the aircraft toilet by having a nosebleed. Even before departing home, I realized I could not find my camera or the $$$ I had just exchanged in the bank. To this day, I don't know where they are.

On arrival I feel relieved.

Few days later an awful hip and lower back pain starts. I wonder if I have been walking/jogging too often and too far. Taken it easy. Not. I decide to ease up a bit, and the hip pain improves. Back pain continues. Several websites, including "Runner's World" suggests it could be because of bursitis, overexertion, overdoing it, sleeping in a new bed, wearing wrong kind of shoes. Next door physio says it could be the facet joints. I try Voltarol gel and Anadin Ultra. Of course I left my own stronger painkillers home. The pain has somewhat improved, a strange hollow feeling remains in the lower back and wakes me up at night.

Next: research university module. Grade 35%. Epic fail. I have nothing more to say about that.

Eye check-up revealed that I might enjoy wearing reading glasses. Yeah right. The glasses should be ready next week.

On top of all this, I forgot about travel insurance. That might be a good idea really, considering I broke a bone in my hand during the latest holiday in March.

What else can go wrong? Many things. "A bit of caution won't kill you."

Back to London

How to survive several weeks one hand in a cast part IV

My poor hand. The cast is of course long gone, but there is still pain right in the fracture site. When I wear the splint there is hardly any pain. I've not really taken any painkillers, because the pain is not constant. When the cast was removed in the end of April, it was agreed that it comes off only because I am starting a new job. Not because I am desperate to get back on the horse.
Well, of course I've been riding, because I felt okay about it and was fed up watching the instructors riding my horse. Nothing wrong with that, they have and are doing an excellent job. I ride wearing the Össur splint and that's probably the only thing that saves me from experiencing more pain.
http://www.ossur.com/injury-solutions/products/upper-extremity/thumb-supports/form-fit-thumb-spica
Well, yes, why not stop riding until the hand has healed? I don't know.. I've read several stories in various websites, where people say they still have pain even after 10 years. Or that they can't do certain activities. I'll have a break from riding for a month now whilst on vacation... but there are probably opportunities for riding on vacation too, awesome!
Scaphoid fractures can be a nightmare and I think it would be best if we all could be compliant with the doctors' instructions to save a lifetime of pain and a non-functional wrist, but unfortunately not everyone carved out of the same tree. I am definitely known for not following instructions and doing my own thing, so I guess I can just expect kind of a mediocre result... I will still keep my fingers crossed and hope for the best.

Elton John - Goodbye Yellow Brick Road

Open the gate

 I am one of those riders, who once on horseback can't open any gates. I wouldn't be any good for hunting, cross-country riding etc, if there were gates to open. Of course if I dismount I can open the gates, but then can't mount my horse again. Small rider, big horse and I just can't get my foot back in to the stirrup. I was on my horse today and tried to open the arena gate. No matter how many times I tried, I couldn't position the horse and myself so I could reach the gate. Once, just once I did, but then the horse closed it. I was so frustrated and started crying and to my shame I had to dismount. 15 minutes had already gone to waste and during that time I could have warmed up my horse (an myself!),but instead I sat on the ground, next to the horse, bawling my eyes out when the riding instructor walked in. I did not want to get back on the horse, I didn't want to ride. After a short discussion, I got on the horse (thanks to the mounting block) and ended up having a nice lesson. The struggle with gates continues and I have to rely on the kindness of the strangers or just dismount horse and find a way to get back on again, somehow. Not the easiest task, because of the still healing broken bone in hand.. and should I even be riding at all.. That's another story...

"Well. You should always come talk to me. Because whatever it is, chances are, I've seen worse. and I am qualified to tell you how you'll survive". -Meredith Grey

A six hour nap

A mandatory visit to much hated ob-gyn yesterday. Several debates later I knew I had to go, there was no way to confirm what I already knew, other that good old doctor having a look down there. My one and only way to cope with this is to sedate myself so that I can stand upright and not slur my words. I left work at about 2pm, started with the first sedative before I left. The hospital is a short drive away and 10 minutes later I find myself taking another sedative. No problem. My mind is crystal clear and I can still play my favorite iPhone games so the level of sedation is not yet adequate. I walk to the clinic, pass by one of the restroom, because I have this awful urge to throw up and/or have an attack of diarrhea. Whilst there, I am convinced I have already made my diagnosis. Before I leave the restroom, I swallow another sedative. Or half a sedative, I can't remember anymore.
When I finally locate the clinic, I am told that the doctor is running late. As always, but this time I am glad, because those damn sedatives aren't working. I drink a bottle of water and take another magic pill. That's the third sedative, or it could be just 1.5 tablets. I can't remember how much I have taken.
After 10 minutes or so the nurse calls me in. But wait, I'm not sedated enough. I have just made a record in Angry Birds Friends and I can't possibly be sedated enough. Blood pressure measures 158/88 despite of sedation, but the combination of the hot weather, walk from the car to hospital and anxiety do wonders for the BP. Second measurement is slightly better- 144/82. Once again I am asked to wait outside and the two other ladies outside make a comment about the doctor's schedule. I am beginning to feel lightheaded and don't really want to engage into a conversation. I still can get a few words out and agree. As if I'm drunk, but I'm not. To ensure I'll continue feeling like I do, I take one more little white tablet. Half a tablet, whole tablet, I don't know. I don't care. Two patients go in before me, and I don't really mind. One of them undergoes a painful procedure, I don't know what it is and don't want to know. All I know is I may know what is going around me right now, but afterward I won't remember much.
When I am finally called in, the doctor's familiar face and voice reassure me a bit, and I am super cool and calm. I tell the doc I need the rest of the day off, can't go back to work, because I am no longer in this world. He says ok. I describe my problem and he wants to take a look.
Whatever. All I remember being offered a sheet to cover myself and then being asked to cough. All of a sudden it is over. I get dressed. I remember very little of the exam itself (but I remember some investigation tools and machines (colposcope..?), but even they don't freak me out anymore) and it's a miracle I could still speak. Nothing hurt, all I felt was a bit of pressure, but I couldn't even localize that. All this time I thought the sedatives had expired or my own tolerance was a lot higher, or that stuff was just placebo. Hell no, it worked. The doc confirms my diagnosis: grade I-II cystocele AKA urinary bladder prolapse. Right. Didn't I just have a condition called uterine prolapse?
Now another prolapse to deal with. We come to a conclusion "wait and see" and I may come and see the doc again after a year.
I feel encouraged after this visit, most probably because I felt no pain, embarrassment, humiliation, nothing. I don't remember much about the conversation that took place after the exam, but I remember the word "cystocele". Honestly, I don't have urinary incontinence, but sometimes I feel I can't empty my bladder very well. Nothing is leaking. The doc also mentioned my ovaries, that they were there- the leftovers from last year's hysterectomy.

I am kind of proud of myself that I had no tearful meltdowns, and did not feel the urge to run as fast as I can. I think I can go and see this particular doctor again, but well sedated and numb. That's the only way. I don't remember how I got home (yes, I did drive, an irresponsible bastard as I am) but I decided to take a nap on the living room sofa. I woke up six hours later in the middle of the night. Wow, that was nice. Some of the effects of the sedation were still there this morning, but I made it to work ok By midday I felt no traces of any of its effects, but I wouldn't really want to be under sedation every day of my life. Save it for emergencies.

Ellie Goulding - Love Me Like You Do

Hung up

When I was driving to work this morning, I was listening to "Hung Up" by Madonna. Probably because it was the first song on that CD and because it sounded bloody awesome, when I had adjusted the volume up. Those lyrics.. they kind of opened my eyes and ears, and then I realized how true they really are. I think there are loadsa people who sit and wait. And wait. Wait for someone or something to happen when likelihood of that particular thing happening is pretty close to zero. Example: waiting for a win in lottery. Daydreaming about winning and what an earth to do with all that money then. Build a castle, travel around the world, remaining convinced the next Saturday is The (lucky) Day. 

Another example: waiting for that special someone you met on a night out to call. The call never comes, not today, not tomorrow, not the day after. Another week has passed by, when the person him/herself shows up at your doorstep. Life becomes awesome, great, fabulous and nothing can ever go wrong again, because that person is next to you, even for a short period of time. It is awfully convincing that things will be just fine and the next week will again be spent in anticipation of something great. Guess what. Je suis désolé. انا اسف  Lo siento.

These things are just daydreams and their outcome is lousy. It can take one song by Madonna to realize that the activity you think is so utterly important, is waste of time and money. Time spent waiting equals loss of life, income, sanity and ... time.. Think of more examples of stuff that you crave and long for, but it's out of reach and will probably never :-( materialize. Crap. I don't know how long I've spent for that phone to ring, the doorbell to ring, for someone to come when they promised they would, for that day when I've lost enough weight and so many other things. Mind you I was waiting for the cast removal recently and that day eventually arrived and that extra weight has gone. Literally. I can't imagine waiting for something that may or may not happen and living in uncertainty for long periods of time is very rewarding or good for mental health. Listen to "Hung Up", volume as loud as it can be and ask yourself am I done?
While I was waiting, I could have finished the book I had been writing. While I was sitting and waiting, I could have watched all the movies I had recorded over the last six months. I could have done so much..


"Ring ring ring goes the telephone
The lights are on but there's no-one home
Tick tick tock it's a quarter to two
And I'm done
I'm hanging up on you

I can't keep on waiting for you
I know that you're still hesitating
Don't cry for me
'Cause I'll find my way
You'll wake up one day
But it'll be too late."
- Madonna: Hung Up