I have a dreaded pressure sore. It's level 3 when the scale only goes up to 4. Nurses have to come in on a daily basis and stroke it and pack it and worry about it. I can't feel it as its below the paralysis line and that is a blessing but in order to stop it spreading I have to put annoying restrictions on my life. I can't sit out for more than three hours; I have to screw myself into a contorted foetal position so that the sore is off the bed several times a day.
Believe me there's not a lot you can do hanging onto the edge of your bed; reading is nigh on impossible although I did manage to finish Sophie's Choice the other day. I enjoyed every word, beautifully written and an ideal book for when you are feeling sorry for yourself! Things could be a lot worse.
I can listen to the radio while on my side and doze of course, that seems to be the option that creeps up on me most often. Haven't managed to complete my next mistress-piece but we will see what today brings.
I would have been marching or rolling against the cuts in London if I could have been yesterday, piling the pressure on those that protect their own interests while making the lives of people with paralysis, poverty and public sector posts a whole lot worse.