Essentially Samantha

  Barry and I took a wheel by the river today. I went to pick up my new glasses, as you can see. It was stressful getting on and off buses. I'm getting nauseous travelling backwards in the wheelchair space. It is a 45min journey into town on the bus. I send emails, text and read to pass the time. Things would be easier with a car. In other news, my son starts on an antidepressant tomorrow. I am praying it goes well and he doesn't go manic, as that would indicate Bipolar disorder. I am saving up for a power chair so I can be independent. I'm frustrated about relying on Barry to get me around. Bless him, I appreciate him, but I need my independence. I currently can only go out when Barry is free. That's not very often, with more hours at work being offered. Pleased to be out today, and on the way back we wheeled along the river. It's still unusually hot; it does not feel like Britain. Roll on Autumn. My favourite season. Although I am not looking forward to wheeling m...

  Dynamic disability: A health condition where a person's symptoms, functional abilities, and energy levels change unpredictably. These fluctuations can shift from day to day or even within a single hour, meaning someone might use a mobility aid or need rest on one day and feel able to walk unassisted the next. The amount of suspicion someone with a dynamic disability faces is unreal. Even GPs who really ought to know better join in with the disbelieving remarks in patients' notes. I was criticised for getting out of my wheelchair unaided and lying on a couch for an examination. I never said my legs were broken; I said it was due to chronic fatigue. I do wish the public would stop fixating on what is or isn't broken with someone and instead focus on real things that are broken and need fixing, ...like the M frigging 27.

Christ He crawled up from the dirt One mother no shirt and he kept all along the stars were his song And by each passing time was no reason nor rhyme he carefully concocted the sum that lingered like voodoo plum so you can scratch where you are wrong For you to be his song So he kept on with digging No sense in his winning the layers were peeled back Nothing was called to his task the rosehips and meadow sweet burned from the sky the stars were his eyes drawing breath from on high the acorns, the chestnuts scattered on the ground the squirrels, the magpies leaping all around the crunch of the fauna under an unsocked foot the whispers, the urgency riddled with muck for you to be stripped bare no sense in the notion to share it was his mother's due care he is not pyrite masquerading as gold his story will always and forever be told he joined in with humanity and coughed up dirt never tiring, never shaking, fully alert shaking the ground like a dream ...

  The moon at 3am over Southampton, UK. Tower Block The 18 bus trundled down the cobbled Millbrook streets Cold and wet, begrudgingly going to our home We tried to stay out; nuisance neighbours kept us awake Nothing the council could do, just hint at a move for our sake The cold, thin chipped paint peeled off the railings in the block The smell of cat food and roast potatoes was always a shock Anti-social behaviour in the block was rife Loud pumping music was just a way of life The lift was out, now to tackle the stairs with a pram People pushing past you, they don't give a damn Rubbish bags collected, the postman is due Not much to hold onto, faith was for the few Paul is now crying, this is no way to live Cold and hungry, carpetless and curtainless nothing would give The woman opposite our flat starts to scream, nothing new I pull the duvet over my head, this life should be only for the few The strange sound of drilling always at 6 o'clock The neighbou...