HALFLING: A FAREWELL TO LEGS - Part 7

The seventh in the series about my collapse, surgery and subsequent life in a wheelchair, and the attitude of society towards the disabled - not quite humans, but ‘

I was re-hospitalised for a week at the Royal Sussex County Hospital in Brighton, slightly trepidatious about being one of the legions of poor souls, including my own mother-in-law, killed by the malpractice which has taken place there for many years and is still under police investigation. I have a Stage 3 pressure-sore; now I’ve been packed off home with my gaping wound (impossible to keep clean as situated right next to the anus: you’re welcome!) even though it may take four months to heal - or kill me, if it becomes a Stage 4.

I’m in two minds about dying. On one hand, I do love life; on the other, the sheer business of being an invalid takes one away from the actual stuff of life so much that the lure of living loses its lustre somewhat.