A very nice friend on FB remarked this morning that I don’t bang on about my health problems. That was kind if not strictly true but it gave me a wonderful idea for a riposte to the kind of bollock-brain who wants to make me feel small.
Listen, mate, you are a bit late. The gods beat you to it. I was born with several things wonky. I have, at a current run-down
Bipolar Disorder (manic depression) including severe lack of self esteem
deafness (getting worse)
instability (I wobble a lot)
spinal scoliosis (including one leg longer than the other)
dizziness (drop everything I pick up)
a couple of broken bones which will get better but sting a bit
cuts and grazes (any number of)
no appendix, uterus, spleen or various other organs and a jar of kidney stones which I keep by the bed.
And you think that YOU can make me feel bad with a few silly “talk down to you” words? You are a bloody amateur, Sir. Go away and take a course on insulting.
I am very pleased that I deal happily with all the gods because this morning having chatted to some native spirits and a couple of Hindu deities, I turned to the Blue and White lady on the hill and said her special prayer. She reminded me to “bless them that curse you and hate not”. She’s right – they bring their own curses on their heads and oh boy – were I to wish harm on that person, a nasty case of piles (painful but can’t talk about) would be the least I’d wish… but I don’t – I feel sorry for someone who prides himself on being able to handle other people ………….with spiked gloves on! But don’t discount the piles… I am, after all a witch in pain and smarting with hurt pride.