So now I'm getting back on my feet a bit. Diet kind of working again, though this week has not been as successful as last - dieting requires momentum, and having lost mine I'm struggling to get it back. Still I'm under 85 kg now, and my BMI is about 27.
A couple of nights ago I have terrible burning pain in my chest and thought I might have to call an ambulance. I did call NHS Direct who were quite helpful - thanks to Daren in Newcastle. It came on about 1.30am and lasted an hour and a half. I've had some blood tests done, and will have an endoscopy which will be fun (NOT). This is probably caused by long term anti-inflammatory use.
Otherwise my health is not too bad. Stable with some pain but not unmanageable. I don't know when my Work Capability Assessment will be, but it must be coming up. I'm terrified that they're going to try to force me back into work - I don't think I could do it. I still have no effective treatment for my fibromyalgia other than rest and not doing things that aggravate it. I really struggle with relating to other people, and get stressed very easily and quickly. With thousands of able bodied and sound minded people out of work who need jobs and who can't survive on the benefit I wonder what the point of me competing with them is.
I don't believe David Cameron - we are not all in this together. David is a millionaire who is not having to personally cut back. The rich have gotten richer during the financial crisis and the middle and the poor are paying directly for it. We're paying in reduced benefits, higher prices, in reduced local services, in lost jobs. They're getting million pound bonuses for fucks sake. How did no banker end up in jail over the fraud involved in sub-prime mortgages? If it were not for the fact that they'd just deport me, I might be up for some direct action against bankers. Those bastards at Barclays that made record profits and only paid 1% tax - how does that work? Royal Bank of Scotland makes a loss and pays the CEO a cool £2 million bonus for running the business into the ground. Something is rotten in the city of London!
The good news is that one of the MEBs is moving out. I found P quite stressful to live with. He is a noisy eater which I hate. I hate the sound of other people eating -it's like finger nails on a blackboard to me, and that's when everyone is eating with their mouths closed and not slurping. He's also a terrible cook, producing quite the worst food I've ever had served up to me in several decades of communal living. But the worst thing is that outside the house he's very active doing all kinds of things, but inside he's very passive. He'll go the extra mile to help someone with a fund-raising event, but does the absolute minimum around the house. And being passive he responds to feedback with passive aggression. So ask him to clean up the shit he's left lying around and he'll just sulk, and do the thing he should have done without being asked in the most ungracious manner short of telling you to fuck off. He won't not do it, but he'll let you know that it's only because you've been a dick about it. He's just a pain in the arse to live with - but not a bad person. Anyway I'm pleased he's going. We're replacing him with a guy who's also quite young (30's) but seems a bit less green.
One thing about English men that I find incomprehensible is the way they wash dishes - this seems to be almost universal. They seem to have a rule that one sink of water, with minimal suds, is the maximum and no matter how full of grease and food it gets, no matter how thick and soupy, that it cannot be replaced. Often the dishes are coming out with more grease on them than they went in with. So it's no surprise that I have to check every dish and mug in the cupboard before using it - about 50% of the time there is enough residue to make me less than keen to eat off it. And they get quite shitty if I suggest that they cannot clean dishes in dirty water. I suppose that's what they've grown up with? And P was one of the worst at this as well.
So hopefully I get back to more regular reportage of my life amongst the English and the MEBs, and dealing with mental and physical health problems, and living on benefits.
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