About me

I have been writing poetry and stories since I was a child, and a love of reading was instilled in me from an early age. I am passionate about writing, and hope you enjoy the books I have written. Whilst most of you sleep soundly in your beds, like many Parkinson’s patients, insomnia dictates, so during those hours that sleep eludes me, the house is tranquil and quiet, an atmosphere perfect to immerse myself in writing. My life has been a series of strange events, which have without doubt contributed to my creativity. To publish anything is to bear one’s soul to the world. It is to stand naked and let everyone see who you really are. I have poured my heart and soul out on paper and I hope to share this journey, immersing you in a story, capturing your attention and firing the imagination. Through my writing and public speaking I hope to bring greater awareness to the general public about living with chronic disease.

Sunday, April 29, 2012

Curiosity killed the cat!

Sitting on a bench looking out over the sea, at a distance some women were having a rather heated discussion. Although I couldn't actually hear what they were saying, from the violent hand gesticulations and enraged looks, they were both upset and the nature of their conversation must have been serious and probably one best not discussed in public. Curiosity getting the better of me, I put on my glasses, for although I couldn't hear what they were saying, I know how to lip read! Yes, my secret is out, I can lip read. My mother taught me many years ago, and it has been a very useful tool. Now understanding what they were talking about, I was in a quandary for I knew the answer to their question, and yet how could I walk up to complete strangers, interrupt their private conversation with the solution, showing I had been listening (or in my case reading their lips). I hasten to add, I took off my glasses and did nothing! I was in a similar situation some years ago when having a scan done of my hip, and the doctor and  technician were engrossed in a conversation about me behind a glass window. I lay there watching them, and although couldn't hear a thing through the sound proof glass, I could read their lips very well. The technician was asking the doctor how I could lay there without screaming, as the scan showed clearly an AVN (Avascular necrosis of the bone) that was severe, he knew I had to be in unbearable pain. When the technician came into the room to remove me from the scanning machine, he was so sympathetic and gentle, I didn't have the heart to tell him I was on morphine which keeping me from screaming, not to mention my British stoic upbringing of not making a fuss. Sometimes, its best just to keep one’s mouth shut!

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