I’ll be writing about my collapse, surgery and subsequent life in a wheelchair, by turns hilarious and horrific, and the attitude of society towards the disabled - not quite humans, but ‘Halflings’.
Oh honey. I had to stop reading after the first a few lines and e mail you in a panic. Ignore the questions I asked, the answers were all in the rest of the article.
It is so difficult to get used to being severely disabled. I’m in the same position as you, but mine has come on gradually over the last 25 years, organs and limbs dropping like leaves from an autumnal tree. It is much more of a shock for it to happen suddenly, as it did with you.
All I can say is that you are so talented and so loved and so in demand as both a person and as a writer. I really believe that there is so much more joy and fun for you to have in your life, not to mention lashings more success and love.
In my email, I suggested an SSRI prescription from your GP. It takes four weeks to even start to work, but I think you would feel better once it kicked in.
Maybe keep an open mind, not all antidepressants will blunt your mind. I have just retired from 35 years in mental health teams and I have seen antidepressants enhance life. But I DO get what you mean - you don't want to trade your vivacity for blandness!
right!!! i’m not having this! when i saw you in may at the end of the pier i was so thrilled to have finally met you! you have been my heroine for ever! Don’t even think about it! You are having a wobble, totally understandable and you are entitled to feel this way! it’s your bloody body after all. However if you fuck us all off now we will be so angry and heartbroken all at once! Swallow up the pity! sit in that bloody chair as if it’s a throne! That’s resigned for the queen!! you are! Think of all the excellent plays, writing, books you have in you!!!! and to come! Get a make over, sit in the sun and all this i promise will be a wobble in a snapshot in a distant past very soon. xxxxxxx sending hugs! not that you want them x
We are the same age Julie and I too have lost my legs - but in a less dramatic way. Mine have b6taken away by a slow, creeping MS. I was only diagnosed at 63. Things have moved rapidly. My legs have very underpowered batteries; pain is chronic and difficult to manage (hence large amounts of oxycontin and oxynorm) and bowels have a mind of their own. Welcome to our new - unwanted - world.
Julie this is the honest, brilliant piece I expected from you, despite enjoying all the bravura bullshit you've written over recent months. How could you not feel the way you do after everything that's happened? We're a similar age and I've loved you ever since I read your first article in the NME. I was a kid from a council estate who saw that advert for the hip young gunslingers and would never have had the guts to apply. You went in and absolutely owned it on behalf of all of us on the outside looking in. We're all battle scarred by life now, you more than most of us, and we need you in our corner still. Take the time to grieve, keep being honest, use the help that's offered but most importantly, keep going. Hell, I might even pay for a subscription. Sending so much love x
Ahh well done Mr Raven! Remember if you take yourself out, you'll be giving your enemies a lot of satisfaction. They will love going on about your karma. Tits, teeth, hair etc can be sorted with a bit of dosh. You could look a million dollars in that sodding chair. Maybe get back on the gak (joking!). xxx
Ooof! How can you find it in yourself to be so searingly funny when you must be feeling so utterly wretched? I can only hope that Stages 6 and 7 are just around the corner. Sending love and strength
I’ve been reading you for four decades starting with your punk rock journalism as an angsty provincial American. It’s unspeakably sad to hear that you reached for a premature exit, yet at 59 with my own chronic illness reducing me to halfling status, I understand. Please stay here, and stay writing.
FFS, Jules… Your pieces in the Specie have generally been so upbeat, but now you've revealed the torment you've been going through.
Love and support may not mean much if sent via media, but – from this end – it's heartfelt.
Thank you, Steve - but not torment, TEDIUM. I can't believe HOW LONG everything takes - I'm used to dashing around. Wheelchairs are so slow!
'Wheelchairs are so slow…'
Wot, even going downhill? ;)
Oh honey. I had to stop reading after the first a few lines and e mail you in a panic. Ignore the questions I asked, the answers were all in the rest of the article.
It is so difficult to get used to being severely disabled. I’m in the same position as you, but mine has come on gradually over the last 25 years, organs and limbs dropping like leaves from an autumnal tree. It is much more of a shock for it to happen suddenly, as it did with you.
All I can say is that you are so talented and so loved and so in demand as both a person and as a writer. I really believe that there is so much more joy and fun for you to have in your life, not to mention lashings more success and love.
In my email, I suggested an SSRI prescription from your GP. It takes four weeks to even start to work, but I think you would feel better once it kicked in.
Hugs and love xxx
Thank you, sweetheart, but I'm not taking ANYTHING that might blunt my pen - and SSRIs would!
Maybe keep an open mind, not all antidepressants will blunt your mind. I have just retired from 35 years in mental health teams and I have seen antidepressants enhance life. But I DO get what you mean - you don't want to trade your vivacity for blandness!
You’ve got beautiful eyes Julie. It was the thing that I noticed about you on Brighton Palace Pier, May 2024. There, I’ve said it.
I want to keep reading your work for years to come. It makes my day.
Jim Carter xxx
Oh Julie. Please don't go. We love you. You were precious. you are precious, and you will always be so.
Thank you, Jim - on both counts!
Meant it! Take care.
right!!! i’m not having this! when i saw you in may at the end of the pier i was so thrilled to have finally met you! you have been my heroine for ever! Don’t even think about it! You are having a wobble, totally understandable and you are entitled to feel this way! it’s your bloody body after all. However if you fuck us all off now we will be so angry and heartbroken all at once! Swallow up the pity! sit in that bloody chair as if it’s a throne! That’s resigned for the queen!! you are! Think of all the excellent plays, writing, books you have in you!!!! and to come! Get a make over, sit in the sun and all this i promise will be a wobble in a snapshot in a distant past very soon. xxxxxxx sending hugs! not that you want them x
We are the same age Julie and I too have lost my legs - but in a less dramatic way. Mine have b6taken away by a slow, creeping MS. I was only diagnosed at 63. Things have moved rapidly. My legs have very underpowered batteries; pain is chronic and difficult to manage (hence large amounts of oxycontin and oxynorm) and bowels have a mind of their own. Welcome to our new - unwanted - world.
Julie this is the honest, brilliant piece I expected from you, despite enjoying all the bravura bullshit you've written over recent months. How could you not feel the way you do after everything that's happened? We're a similar age and I've loved you ever since I read your first article in the NME. I was a kid from a council estate who saw that advert for the hip young gunslingers and would never have had the guts to apply. You went in and absolutely owned it on behalf of all of us on the outside looking in. We're all battle scarred by life now, you more than most of us, and we need you in our corner still. Take the time to grieve, keep being honest, use the help that's offered but most importantly, keep going. Hell, I might even pay for a subscription. Sending so much love x
Ahh well done Mr Raven! Remember if you take yourself out, you'll be giving your enemies a lot of satisfaction. They will love going on about your karma. Tits, teeth, hair etc can be sorted with a bit of dosh. You could look a million dollars in that sodding chair. Maybe get back on the gak (joking!). xxx
Fucking hell. There’s only one JB x
Thank fuck for that.
you're very much loved Julie. please don't go. i know you have been dealt a very tough hand but you're still needed on Earth, if you don't mind
Still a helluva writer. Delighted to have found this today (but couldn’t be sorrier to read of your travails) x
Definitely not had enough of you or your writing; don't stop either.
Oh, Julie. So grim, so wise.
Thank you, Michael - but funny too, I hope!
Ooof! How can you find it in yourself to be so searingly funny when you must be feeling so utterly wretched? I can only hope that Stages 6 and 7 are just around the corner. Sending love and strength
Still funny and not an ounce of self pity!
The sardonic wit and verve are still in your cerebrum, Julie👏😊
Thank you, William.
I’ve been reading you for four decades starting with your punk rock journalism as an angsty provincial American. It’s unspeakably sad to hear that you reached for a premature exit, yet at 59 with my own chronic illness reducing me to halfling status, I understand. Please stay here, and stay writing.