Factum est quod Factum est (what’s done is done)

2017 is finishing, for me, not in a whiz bang fireworks way but with a kind of sad exhausted whimper. I look back over my year, bugger all written, a messy kind of separation, surgery, health challenges, village idiots and foil hat wearers ad nauseam. 

I find myself incarcerated right at the moment in the gloom of a six bed ward in a hospital.  Somewhere in my adult life I thought for just a moment that I was past sleeping in places where I did not choose my bed mates as it were.  One gets shifted around a bit in hospital here as one either deteriorates or allegedly improves so one never quite knows where one will end up or whom your roomies will be.  It is a little disconcerting being fixed with a steely gaze from across the room, not knowing whether the elevator goes to the top floor or indeed as in a time not so long past if the person is a convicted murderer, that is another story.

In brief I am in hospital because my fuse box has gone a bit hay wire. I have developed Atrial fibrillation, probably over the last 9-12 months when I look back it, this has been afannounced with an accumulation of weight in direct correlation with a decrease in energy and stamina.  I have a reputation for being reasonably patient, in fact have even been nominated for awards for endurance but as my year has developed my patience has worn thin.

One of the terrible things about facebook is that people have no filter in front of them they write what they think and say things that they would not say to other peoples faces, most often because they are somewhat afraid of the consequence of such behaviour. I am  a little different in that if I write it I will say it, call that what ever it is, lunacy, bravery, ignorance some days I can’t tell you the difference and some days they all roll into the same thing like some psychedelic helter skelter straight out of Alice in Wonderland complete with Mad Hatter and a white rabbit.  Madness you see is always comparative.

A few days I voluntarily let some people attach me to two pads and run 100 joules of electricity through my body. I knew it would likely stop my heart and I hoped it would restart in a proper rhythm, the risks were explained, stroke death etc, they may have tocardioversion do cpr etc however I signed on the dotted line accepting their word that it was the best way. I don’t remember anything, I was under light sedation and came to with the cardiologist saying great stuff, we only had to give you one shock and we didn’t have to push your chest yae me!

Unfortunately in less than 24 hours it had reverted back. Now this story is not about atrial fibrillation, fluid on your chest peeing three and a half litres per day  having strange and wonderful room mates, those are all subjects that are discrete and can be resolved as it were.  If I were want I could just say pollinate this and pick up my swag as it were and go home, deal with it tomorrow, whilst quite a romantic notion it potentially is self defeating and dangerous, greeted perhaps with opprobrium in some quarters and undoubted glee in others.

It is not even about trusting strangers with your life, merely about being in control.  Today for some reason is one of those days, where gradually even the sound of the birds singing has become onerous. I have come rather quickly to the conclusion that I don’t have any control, I have graduated to a grumpes bastardus.  Rather than analysing why or how, I will just accept it, tomorrow is another day but I won’t guarantee my patience will last the day. Don’t feel sorry for me just determine to live your life to the full you never know when you may end up sharing a room with a grumpy old man.


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