Ailsa Abraham's Blog: Ailsa Abraham, page 54

Hold the helicopter!

Despite severe injuries, I can  now afford to joke about my motorcycle accident at the end of August.

There is a thing called “post trauma amnesia” from which I suffer – bonk me on the head and I forget everything for anything from an hour to a day or so BEFORE the incident.

So far I have missed out on two air ambulance lifts. One was when I nose-dived off a cliff when I was 15 – note to self, next time you go abseiling, use a bloody rope!

This time the helicopter took me from the football field to the hospital and I remember zilch.

The down side of this effect is that at the police station this morning, where I had to make a statement, I just kept smiling sweetly and saying “I can’t remember” and asking my husband. The sergeant (a very patient man) told me that they needed MY statement, not his. So we agreed to fill the entire form in with N/A.

“Would you like to add anything?”

“Yes. I am very sorry for all the bother I caused. I have given up bikes and I am furious that I missed my second helicopter ride… should I do it again would you teach someone to wake me up and shout “Hold the helicopter, the passenger is asleep!” then at least I’ll get to experience it?”

He and the gendarmette both laughed but said – no more of that eh? So I proudly showed them my scar and said I wasn’t starting a collection! (Goodie, innit?)

Danger!!

This post will read comically because that is how I handle most things but the situation was dangerous.

As most of you know, I was involved in a severe motorcycle accident recently. I am gradually getting out on my bicycle to exercise muscles that were cut in the operations and to get back on the road. I won’t be able to drive until I have had another brain scan following yet another head injury.

So this afternoon I was wheeling my bicycle across the drive to go for a quiet ride in the afternoon sun. I was, as ever, rather nervous but looking forward to it.

Tractors thundered up and down the main road and I watched for a space, not on my bicycle saddle but getting ready to set off. This was the point at which my ancient neighbour, sat on the bench facing my house decided to start screeching at me. I may have mentioned that I’m a bit deaf and with the noise of tractors I couldn’t hear what she was screaming. I tried to stop. Wobbled, put my feet down and felt very unsteady.

“What?”

“I said, be careful. There’s lots of traffic on the road.”

I won’t tell you my answer. It wasn’t rude, nor did I swear but I lost my nerve completely. I pointed at the tiny lane down to the church and said that there wasn’t much traffic there, which is where I intended riding.

What a totally idiotic thing to do. Yell hysterically at someone who wasn’t in danger and frighten the living daylights out of them. That was it. I put my bike away and went back indoors. I couldn’t face being on the road and I was shaking. If I had gone over there I would have said something that I would have regretted. I didn’t …but I came back into the kitchen swearing under my breath and banging things. I missed my nice ride out in what could be the last sunny day for a while.

Once I am totally calm, I may have to explain to her that I am very deaf and shouting at me makes me very nervous. At least I hope that is all I say.

Don’t make me go out!

Authors’ Best Friend Is… Ape!

Authors’ Best Friend Is… Ape!.

R and R

 

No – not rest and recuperation, that is from my military days. This is for Rights and Responsibilities. Had a lot of “thinks” about this regarding social media. Much crochet, yarn flicking, mind in time with it.

We all have the right to speak our mind, freedom of speech etc. However, we have the responsibility to ensure that we don’t hurt or offend our friends. Hopefully nobody else either but brainless folks defending the indefensible are probably best ignored.

That’s the question though, isn’t it? What I find indefensible is perfectly acceptable to others. Should I rage at someone about it? What percentage of the population has to agree with me for it to be OK? At which point do I become a “boring ole fart, banging on again”?

I don’t eat meat but many of my friends do. Does that give me the right to “yukkie” a photo they post about their dinner? No, not really. Better to say nothing. (This is progress, believe me… Ailsa keeping her big gob shut!)

Easy one there but how about surgical intervention when not medically necessary? I disagree with docking dogs’ tails or cropping their ears just for fashion. So you will imagine my views on genital mutilation of either gender. This puts me at odds with many of my friends whose social or religious beliefs mean they want to mutilate their sons. Their kids, their decisions. I don’t like it but unless asked for my opinion, I’ll shut up.

I have finally come to the conclusion that I will only take up the cudgels when people get their facts wrong and I am absolutely certain of that. It really isn’t worth upsetting folks and that is not why I am on social media. I’m there to chat, laugh, advertise my books and make friends.

So some people get bitten … well, every dog is a wolf underneath xxxx

No I’m NOT a vegan… but tail docking????

Watch your language!

WARNING – bit of swearing here.

My other half is called Badger, as most of  you know and his command of the French language isn’t bad, hampered as it is by a Bristolian accent which makes his English hard to fathom sometimes.

He used to team-teach with me and I just discovered that he is still teaching…swearwords!

Look at that picture down there.  Would you ask that critter for a philosophical debate or demand the Badger-ese for “willy? Right! So my Badger has been helpfully teaching staff at local shops to swear fluently in English. There is a problem with the short “i” sound in shit so most people say sheet, which ends up like a Benny Hill sketch. “I wanna sheet on de bed”.

He teaches them to say bollix instead or fuggit. He has a whole following of scrap dealers, bank clerks and postal employees who love him because he knows the exact translation into French – it was the first thing I taught him. When there is a breakdown in communication he can mime or point.

I am sometimes very proud of Badger. He may not be fluent in French but he gets the point across wonderfully, bless ‘im.

 

 

 

Why I came out

Something wonderful just happened to me. It balances out some of the less pleasant stuff that has been going around recently.

A friend sent me a message to thank me for writing about depression etc. She has a family member who also suffers and who reacted marvelously to just being hugged and not judged or given unwanted or impractical advice.  My friend was kind enough to say that if I hadn’t been so open about my own mental health problems she might not have had that kind of insight. From my blog pieces she had a better understanding of what her relative might need.

That’s fabulous. That is exactly WHY  I decided to “come out” and be very open about my mental health problems, both being Bipolar and the brain damage I suffered in a couple of accidents. I’m tough enough and stupid enough to laugh about it. I make jokes. That makes it easier for others to be comfortable with it.  Also – what are the options? Weep, feel sorry for myself and depress everyone else or spread a bit of useful knowledge and make others laugh at the same time?

I’m always here. I can’t say that I have all the answers because every patient is different. I may have no idea how to help your friend or relative but I’m willing to try.

I will go to bed tonight really thrilled that I have helped someone. My friend’s relative got uncritical and unconditional support. You have no idea how valuable that is when you are flat out on the floor and can’t get up. When even going to the kitchen to put the kettle on is like climbing Everest.

But on a good day, I’m one helluva laugh – honest!

Cartoon below reproduced with thanks

 

http://theanonymousanthropologist.com/?p=130

Delivery mix-up

All my life I have thought I was a mix-up in the delivery room. Not in the hospital, in the pick and pack area.

I’m sure I was meant to be an animal of some sort because I find humans so very difficult to fathom. Even communicating with them (which is supposed to be my main occupation) gets very tricky. Animals are fabulously easy. It’s all done in the mind or by a raised ear, a look or a lifted paw.

The older I get and the more my brain damage deteriorates, the more this comes home to me. I can have meaningful exchanges with most non- verbal creatures but find human speech impossible.  Something that should come out as two words lasts half an hour. Insults are chucked about for no reason.  Liberties are taken at the drop of a hat without permission…

I am going outside to chat with my lizards. They at least make sense to me.

“Nice log – yes, innit? Is your log like this?”

“No.”

“Pity. Wanna share my log for a bit?”

 

After that, when it is getting dark I’ll go out to the barn and chat to my mates the bats.

Trident

A three-point blog today, hence Trident.

One – I am struggling to stay on social media despite a severe motorcycle accident last month that nearly killed me and left me with even more brain damage. I’m doing it to hang onto normality. I want to chat to my lovely friends who have been so kind and generous. It is therapy and friendliness.

Two – I am not an expert in much. I couldn’t answer “Mastermind” questions on my own life (especially as my memory is now unreliable for recent events) BUT I know a bit on a couple of subjects. One of them is animals because I worked as a vet nurse. So being told I live in Lala land and talk crap on THAT subject does not help my recovery – thank you Scott Butcher

Game of ball?

Three – animals behave the way they have been trained. I am not going to repeat this here because many of my friends will not want to read it but here is a pretty fair idea How Fighting Dogs are trained (Scott Butcher you might like to reflect on how a human would grow up if treated like that from a couple of months old!) I have had to treat the “losers” from this…it isn’t pretty but these ARE NOT pets.

There have been “devil dogs” with bad reputations all my life. During WW2 the Nazis trained several breeds to attack and even rape humans. When I was a kid we were wary of Alsatians (German Shepherds), Doberman Pinschers and Rottweilers.. Nowadays their reputation is better and many people have them as domestic pets. Some of the worst biters are spoilt smallies like chihuahuas and Jack Russell.

Sod off!

Take this further – on your argument, Mr. Butcher, a dog (or even a human) is BORN BAD. Wow – that means that if I take a survey of all gangland kids in large cities I can infer that they are like that because of what? Their colour? Their nationality ….. or the fact that they have grown up in deprived, underprivileged conditions and learned that being “bad” is the way to get what they want.

Your point that pitbulls being banned in Australia resulted in fewer kids being attacked only tells me one thing – parents should be educated. I have dogs. I am sick of having to inform people that a toddler running at a dog with its arms out and a squeaky voice is not welcome. Ask the owner, approach the owner first because they are the pack leader (oh yes, we are still pack animals but MY pack is under control)… if the owner is OK with it, the owner will take the child’s hand and stroke the animal, thus mixing scents. Stop the child poking the dog in the eye, pulling its ear or causing it pain. Keep contact short and then say goodbye. You are training the child and parents, not the dog who has behaved well. Slip him a biscuit and say “Well done”….

If being called “potty-mouth” names is all I am going to get for trying to get my brain to function normally and keep in touch, I will stop. You have no idea how hard it is for me to communicate on social media at the moment. So this may be my final communiqué for a while.

 

Is this a devil dog? Never was with me! Bet you can’t guess the breed!

 

Ye wot?

I was delighted to get a note from La Poste explaining to us that our new parcel delivery lady is profoundly deaf … so could we make efforts to speak slowly and clearly, looking at her? She can lip read so there is no reason to go into Marcel Marceau mode… GOOD! Hoorah!

Communications in this house have always been complex as my Badger is an engineer and mathematician but I’m an empath and artistic type – he has to KNOW but I have to FEEL.

Since my own hearing has been going downhill and my reasoning facilities are damaged this has led to the kind of exchanges we had this morning. Me mumbling to myself about something

Badger – What have you lost?

Me  – I don’t know.

Badger – How can you find it if you don’t know?

Me – I can see it. Don’t know the name.

It’s so much easier on the computer!!!

 

I get on fabulously with deaf people because they don’t want complicated explanations and if you want to make mime shows – my mother, her sister, her sister’s baby .. we scream COUSIN at each other and fall over laughing! Then I explain a dog bit my cousin – get on floor growling and “worry” her trouser leg … horror! Oh dear. Is he OK? No he is policeman and very embarrassed – hilarity.  In some languages I can do lip reading but even when we don’t, I am a mime and can act out a funny story … most deaf people are tickled pink that someone would go to that trouble (either that or they are trying to get rid of this dolt!)

Whatever – another friend hoves onto the horizon and I’m off to see the specialist shortly… wish me luck (that is thumbs up and point, in case you didn’t know!)

 

 

A damn good one!

I like funerals. People get to say nice things about the deceased without getting embarrassed and it’s all huggy.

Last night I dreamed of my own, as I have planned it on a lochside, with a longship, masses of brushwood and my bike laid on it. All of you FB mob were there and I thought -oh how lovely, they all made it!!!!  MUST have cost them a fortune!!!!

Final guest was Cap’n Jack Sparrow who looked at my bandana and tutted. He took off his tricorn and swapped it for my gold nose ring, making the joke he’d clean the bloody thing before sticking it in his ear. We all laughed. Everyone rolled up their trousers, pushed the boat out into the water and splashed petrol on it. Then it was Hi Ho Big Explosion and away I went …………..

 

Thanks everyone for turning out for me, for telling the truth, for saying what a nut job I was but how much you loved me and how utterly impossible I could be (and that was on a good day).  I woke up really happy this morning and could walk. I went for a long stroll down by the river without my stick and said “au revoir” to the trees who are taking their leave til next Spring xxx