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.

Thursday, October 4, 2012

It’s not what you say

They always say “it’s not what you say, but how you say it”. A well-meaning lady spoke to me at a function recently, and leaning close, just inches away from me, I could feel her breath on my face. She had obviously missed the lesson on social etiquette and why it is considered rude to invade someone’s “personal space”. But for now we’ll forgive her stepping over the boundaries of what is socially acceptable. I sat pinned to my seat like a mouse caught in a corner with a cat on the prowl – I had no escape route. Peering down at me, in a voice one normally reserves for very young babies or admiring cute puppies, she asked in a sickly sweet tone “do you remember me?” Staring back at her, I was wondering how anyone in their right mind could possibly forget this woman. But my good upbringing and polite British manners prevented me from saying this! I wondered if she had the slightest idea of how condescending she sounded, and how ridiculous her intonation was; which I found not only irritating but highly demeaning. She continued to speak slowly and clearly as if giving directions to a tourist who didn't speak a word of English, gesticulating wildly as if this would help me understand. I sat dumbfounded, and thankfully she quickly ran out of things to say, and having done her good deed of the day by talking to the poor disabled person, she excused herself and trotted off, to no doubt invade someone else’s personal space! Clearly this lady has never read any of my books or heard me public speaking to a full auditorium. When will people understand, that being chronically ill, doesn't mean you’ve lost your marbles?

1 comment:

  1. Elaine, This lady apparently has never had any marbles. This is also a chronic disability. I was in this position once and instinctively started to talk complete rubbish. This was a he, and just very quickly disappeared. That is one way to solve a problem.