I Don’t Want To Be Disabled Anymore

OneGoodArm Swear Scale: Moderately Disabled

That headline or title isn’t a grab for attention, I REALLY don’t want to be disabled any more. Fo Shiz. Like, if someone could do me a solid, I would really appreciate it.

What? Unrealistic. Oh. Bummer. Best get on with it then. It’s funny I think every day, it’s fine, fine, it’s all fine. Then I scrawl through the horses for sale on facebook and there are no less than 5 I want to buy every single day. And then I remember that getting a new unknown horse with one arm is like the stupidest idea ever. And I want to throw my phone at the wall. But I am addicted to it, like every other person on the planet and I stroke it lovingly and apologise to it for thinking evil thoughts.

Then I repeat said torture on FB with dogs, rescue animals, furniture, cars and jewellery. That phone is sending me on an emotional fucking roller coaster on the daily. Maybe I should piff the mind bending thing into the bin after all. Well, maybe tomorrow. Or the next day…..

A friend of mine, who is a little older than me, her age starts with a 5, said she joined FB a few months ago and after a short stint she was getting the fuck out. Well she didn’t say fuck, that is just me doing that. But her message was pretty compelling. Too much bitching, too much negativity, not enough compassion. Amen to that I thought. She is 100% correct.

I find I am, every day, wishing I had not wandered into FB, amongst the pictures of my friends horses, which I love, there are posts about people kicking dogs, or leaving them in hot cars, or children being abused, or precious things stolen. It’s too much I tell you. If it wasn’t for the memes I would have jumped off a bridge by now.

This is one of my personal favourites.


Anyway back to my, err my friends, point. I go on FB to see my family and friends, I don’t want to sign a petition to find the scumbag dragging a dog behind his Volvo. Nor do I want to see the fuckwit leaving court after coward punching some pour soul laughing. I mean I know these things happen, and if I happen upon these people in my actual life, then shit will get real, but I don’t want to be burdened by the scum of society on FB. It’s made me want to get off it more than once I can tell you.

So what do you do. I have a website, as you are all aware www.onegoodarm.com , but only 14 people in the whole world look at it. And 12 of those people are my parents and siblings. Everyone else wants to look at my stupid ramblings on FB. And I oblige said cohort because the FB TBPI forums have taught me more about my disability than any specialist could. Even today I asked for recommendations for good exercises for one armed peeps, specifically one armed BPI warriors, and I had 47 responses in three hours. Amazing! From all over the world.

So I don’t know what the answer is. FB has been designed for maximum mind control so you cannot see only the things you want to. You have to see the shit and the pearls intertwined. So when I can find a way to get my blog out into the world – successfully – without having to be exposed to FB I will be ready willing and able.

In the interim I will go on trying to accept my predicament. I have been very good and taking my Addison’s medication. I am off pain killers 100% now and have been for a few weeks. All I take now are my nerve drugs (there are a few), Addison’s medication (cortate to keep my blood pressure above that of an elephant), vitamins (BioCeuticals – they are the shit), St John’s Wart (apparently good for nerve repair), Iron (you know, for the gargantuan fatigue) and the occasional horse sized laxative.

I am Samantha in SATC 2.

I am also yawning which means I am needing to fall into a coma, or my writing is so bad, even I am bored.

Until Friday night when I will have an Addison’s update, OGA Out.

The First Two Weeks

So I am coming up on two weeks post injury.  I am still in hospital and as such cocooned from the real world and all the struggles ahead of me.

If I could sum up the first two weeks in one word it would be painful.  Nerve injuries are the worst pain-wise. It is relentless!  This dead arm of mine fucking hurts – ALL THE TIME!  It seems horribly unfair to have lost the use of the arm but be stuck with the pain.  That sucks a big hairy pair of balls.

I am excited to be leaving hospital but also a little terrified to be going out into the world so different from when I left it.

The first two weeks have been all over the place mentally and physically.  I am like:

“I’ll be fine” and start practising my hand writing with my left hand (I am right handed).

“Oh christ I can’t do this” (probably because my hand writing whilst perfectly legible was revolting compared to my old perfect script).

“I need to get my car modified so I can drive immediately.”

Sobbing hysteria – “I want my arm back”.

A brightened mood “I’ll write a blog!”.

More crying, gets out work computer and starts working and clearing inbox.


More crying, “fuck my arm is hurting!!!”

Falls asleep whilst visitors are chatting.  You weren’t boring me I promise! I am just up to my eyeballs in endone.

That was just one day! 🙂

The hospital though is a safe refuge.  There are many helpers at the touch of a button.  Some poor boy had to pull my undies down so I could twinkle three nights in a row.  Sorry Daryl.  Yes I know, the hail damage is extensive. Wish I could blame that on the accident but unfortunately that lies squarely at the feet of Cadbury chocolate, banana bread and strawberry bullets.

So in 16 hours I must face the music, let’s hope it’s Motley Crüe kickstart my heart” playing.