my back is shite

Its a real concern that i just took a month off (i say took, was told by my doctor that i was to take the month off) due to having totally screwed my back up shifting massive weights up and down stairs in the interest of work.  Because i felt so aggrieved that i was in this state due to my employers total staggering lack of interest in basic health and safety and the regards of the staff, I went and managed to get alternative employment within the health care sector (so they have no choice but to give a fuck about my well being) but this morning I woke up to a familiar nagging sensation in my back.

This scares me, because I simply cannot be one of those people on incapacity benefits.  I don't want to be dependant on the state, I dont want to be a burden to the tax payer and i dont want to become one of the vile that sit at home and feel that they are owed a living.  I cannot abide the physically able and mentally sound claiming incapacity benefits because its just easier than working, when staying at home is a genuine option just because you've adopted the the "why should i work?" attitude.  If that makes me right wing then I guess right wing be I !.  Soon i shall be taking care of seriously mentally ill people, people who are classed as 'end of life', pretty soon I will be back working with people who genuinely need care, some of them are just elderly and maybe need minimal support, a cuppa, a kind word or maybe even just company.

I think the thing that upsets me the most is the drugs.  when my back was really bad i was on a cocktail of co codamol, tramadol, diazipan, diclofenac (in two different forms, one of which was to be stuffed up my arse in emergencies...actually that was quite funny) the standard massive ibuprofens, all of which  had to be taken just so i could feel human.  All i wanted was some form of empathy, someone to give me physiotherapy, someone to take me seriously and not just give me drugs; two of which are classed as dependancy forming. Instead i felt like a turd, crawling back for more and more drugs, constantly asking my doctor to help me, having to walk in such a labour intensive way that people openly made fun of me.  I felt like John fucking Merrick.

So. I dont want the dole because i dont want to be dependant on the state, I feel unable to got to my doctor because i was made to feel like a sponger, and my back is bad and im afraid that i wont be able to work much longer and im afraid no one will take my griping seriously. This leaves me one option really, save up and pay for treatment myself, treatment that im entitled to get for free (you gotta love the principles behing the NHS, if not the execution), and if im sick noted then where will i get the money to save with?

Catch 22?

grrrrrrrr

How many times have i stated "i need a blog"?.  Somewhere for the oppinionated like myself to vent and spew bile, somewhere i can call my own to feel superior, and when i get a bee in my bonnet somewhere to shout loudly (or as loudly as i can type) about how i fucking hate twats and bastards alike.  And it turns out that something i hate is people that do Blogs, interestingly enough for the exact reasons that i stated above!

It always strikes me that people that have Blogs suspect themselves to either be A) smarter than the average bear (i cant fix my car, mend my plumbing or do my wiring) or B) feel that their opinions are so worth listening to that they need a forum to stand at and be a wise cracking genius, or finally C) just a twat (i like to think that i fall neatly into the final category, but then i may be being self depreciating to try and detract that i probably actually just think im very funny and terribly clever to boot)

Personally i think i may get bored soon enough and shut the fuck up, but for myself i intend this to be somewhere i can be angry about whatever injustice i see in the world (probably mainly relating to my bank account or lack there of) and then hopefully get on with my day without being a bell-end for the rest of my life. sweet.

There we are then, lets see how many i manage to do before i bore myself to tears.

thanks for reading, Donal
xxxxxx