to the trolls apparently watching me? Yes, I want to be a doctor. Yes, there was past drama stuff, but that’s in the past. That was last year. It’s 2024 so move on! You say get a life? How about directing that towards yourselves! Why do you need to watch me? Why do you need to watch anyone! What about just enjoying your own lives, without stalking people etc. You are better than that. You are all etter than the way you are currently behaving. You have children. Some of you. You have families. Go and spend time with them. Enjoy your company with them. Instead of stalking people you apparently do not like. Why let that take up any of your time? Behave? I am doing that. I passed my latest university assignment. I will begin my dissitation soon. You do not worry me. Yes, I have my own life and I will live it to the full. Thank you very much for the advice. Which I didn’t need. Anyway, 4 weeks until operation calcium removal! Eye drops still burn my eyes when they are put in. Ouuuuuch! I’m happy that me and my mum have a closer bond now. It’s great. I’m happy I’ve passed my assignment and can begin my dissitation soon, after changing a few things. Bloods next tuesday and another appointment for the results on 29th. Have a good evening all. Thank you to the friends who are supporting me. Yes, Rio, you are a friend. Thank you to My partner, and others. Thank you for standing by me. I will in turn, do the same. Have Just had a cup of tea and taken my meds. Talking to my friend on facetime. Hugs all. #Friendship #AlwaysBePositive 🤗🤗🙏🙏🙏

September 2008. A student sits in highschool. Dreaming of becoming a language interpreter. One of the ones on the news. But also, she had other ideas. One she knew would probably never happen. Watching the trauma programmes every time they were on tv. She’d watched Casualty for years on tv, so learned medical terminology. She used to go to st John as a cadette. Passing a CPR exam with 100% in 2004. But could she? Would it ever happen? Whilst she sat at the table, trying to revise for her French and german GCSEs, she was thinking about other things on her mind. What mood was Ogden in? Would she bother to do her homework that day? She decided she couldn’t be bothered. What was the point, when all the time, she was told, no. You can’t. You can’t as you have to go to university. You have to revise and achieve. But she knew, somewhere, somehow, she could. No one was helping her. But could they? Would they turn up?

College was approaching and she didn’t pass her exams with the grades she was hoping for. Again, they told and showed her, she wouldn’t amount to much. Would she ever be able to achieve the things she wanted too? She set her sights on singing. Was that possible? Was her other talent possible? Perhaps… Perhaps if she could… Then… Maybe it could take her towards… But maybe not. THERE was still that voice, you have to see. You can’t. Insurance policies. Insurance, insurance. Insurance, health and safety. Epilepsy… Just more. More of it coming into the way. More barriers in her way. Perhaps like she thought those years earlier, it would never happen. Perhaps her standing there at the foot of someone’s bed, saving their life, their life in her hands, their golden hour, would not be reached! She put it at the back of her mind, concentrating on her singing. Again though, that was something unreachable. Again, no! No! No! Like margaret thatcher. No! She then read A practising blind Physician by Dr Cordes. A practising blind.. Blind… Blind.. It could be done? Wow! Filling with excitement. She tried desperately to get in touch. Where was this guy? How can I get hold of him! I need to speak with him! Help me please!! She scroled through the internet. Tim cordes. Dr Tim Cordes. She found his hospital, but there was no email. Damn!!! Okay, she thought, I’ll do it in braille. carefully she put the paper into her perkins and began writing. Dear Dr Cordes… And the letter went on! 2 pages of wide 11 by 11 braille paper. Her aspirations all out, on 2 pages! Question after question! How did you do it! Please help me to do it too! It wasn’t until 2023, that she would eventually, get hold of her medical hero. As she thought! But still, she tried. Care, no! Insurance. Yet again! She kicked off and went to the press! She knew how to bolus after 5 minutes of training. The sighted took a day to learn. Again, she tried. Hospice, No, because of your epilepsy. St John, no, you need someone with you at all times! Again, no and insurance echoing! But the Jacob Bolotin story was there. It could be done! Why now were they refusing people! That person is me. If they can do it, Cordes, Hartman, Stanly I think his name was, Bolotin. We can use our ears, our hands, our hearts! To save lives. To care. To be compassionate. To ease their distress! To show them we’re here. I’ll never leave their side! Not until they are calm. Stable. Eased of their pain. Of their suffering. Of their trauma. Of their injury. It’s doable, so please, let us in. Please help us, to help them! Barriers are like chess. You need to play the game right! Check mate at the end. Use your talent as an advantage. Bolotin sold brushes. I will sing. To help me. My degree with the OU. this year, i will graduate. Please God. Help me!

Had a lovely chat to Ged, one of my tutors from RNC. He was telling me about the time we were both running in the field together and that I was laughing. I sadly don’t remember it. I can remember our meetings every week in the little room, where he would ask me how I was etc. How most of the time I was quite upset. The first time we met, I was crying and he had to calm me. I also found out we have religion in common. He went to lourdes with the Youth from Liverpool. What a strange thing our Lady and God are doing. Connecting me in many different ways! I will pray to our Lady and God to enable me to somehow, battle the barriers and become a doctor in the future. Just like Bolotin in the 20s. Hartman in the 70s, and cordes in the late 90s and 2000s. If they can and they are fully blind, why then can’t I. I have my singing yes. I love it and I have the honour of singing at Southlands next wednesday, which will be a first for me, as I’ve not sung in a care home before. I’ve sung in other places, like the villa, the manx Legion, Sight Matters, St Paul’s church Liverpool, St Vincent’s school for the blind and visually impaired in Liverpool, St George’s church Douglas, St Thomas’s Church in Douglas as part of the Guild. The civic centre in Castle town. To name just a fiew. There are probably others I’ve forgotten, but I have also sung in my happy place twice. Lourdes. As well, I’ve sung in walsingham. My happy place is what called me to Catholicism, when I was going through RCIA and I wasn’t sure. But in Lourdes, I knew. I knew I wanted to care for others. I knew I wanted to help them when they were in some type of distress. I ran to a lady’s aid when she was choking, even if it meant bumping into chairs on my way to her. I followed the sound. I sat with her, and held her hand. I spoke to her and also patted her hard on the back to help get up what she was struggling with. I talked softly to her telling her she’d be okay. That we were here beside her. That we were not leaving her and that I wouldn’t even when other forms of help arrived. Apparently I had calmed her a lot they said. I also helped a lady to open her yoghurt pots when she struggled at the table and put the spoon into the pot for her. I have comforted people at church before when they were crying. Giving them hugs. I feel a strange kind of pull toward doing that. I guess that is why I took Bernadette and Cecilia as my confirmation names. I think if I were male, I should have chosen Luke! Lol! Bernadette is the closest I can get, plus we both have asthma. She did and wasn’t trained as a doctor, but cared for people. I hope sometime, I will be able to go all the way. Anyway, enough of my long novels lol! Just talking to Nick on facetime. Virtual hugs all.

Well good evening. Today I was okay, until someone said I was addicted” to hospitals. No, That isn’t true. I don’t like having to have tests done, but they have to be. I do have chronic illnesses. Epilepsy is a chronic illness, that comes not just with seizures, but emotional side effects too, from medication and from my brain in general. I have POTS, and IST, which both cause tachycardia as well as syncope and tiredness. Asthma is also a chronic illness, which gets flared up by chest infections, stress and excitement, as well as the weather. Because of what the trolls did to me, messing with my head, telling me I was making my illnesses up, so much that I even sent them copies of my consultant letters to prove otherwise. It marks me. Am I a weirdow for being genuinely interested in medicine and medical stuff, since the age of about 6. Or as long as I can remember? Does that mean I’m making up my illnesses and brain injury? No, but because I’ve been told so much I am, it triggers that cycle of thoughts in my brain. Do I enjoy the tests? No, because you don’t know what the results are going to be, from an interest stand-point, yes, as I get to learn and be educated. Ense why I never view a hospital visit as scary or nerve racking. Because the fact I’m being educated is a distraction. I know it’s easy for me to say to others to do that, as most of my experiences have been relatively good ones. Except the ones in ED and MAU that time. MAU stands for medical admitions unit. I’ve had doctors with appalling attitudes. Doctors who don’t know how to fill in forms or even that I have no vision and still want to test my vision levels on eye charts. When I was younger, I had some brilliant doctors. The medical doctor at school, I think her name was Stuvay. Eva or Rebecca. Something like that. I remember she was lovely. The nurse in the hospital Elva was lovely. She always used to tell me what was going on and how stuff worked. She left after a while, but I’ll never forget her My first ever GP, who is now retired is still in touch with me. Again, a doctor I will never forget. brilliant with me. My first ever opthalmologist, Jim Travers, I will never forget. I wish I could get a message to him, to say hello and ask how he is now. We always used to talk about things and he would explain my eyes to me and what they were like. How they never will react to light. That was a blow, as I once thought they did, but no, they don’t. My reaction to light is the reaction to heat. It’s not the actual light my eyes are reacting too, but the feeling of the heat going through them. I have nystagmus but not due to vision, but due to the fact my eyes always move. They never really stay still. But yes, some of the doctors in the past were brilliant. Yes, I’ve mentioned a few names, but in the hope someone sees and passes the message on. My first paediatrician I also remember. He let me feel his dictaphone, a recording device, which he let me press the buttons on and record his voice. Ai also had a paediatrician who was a female and was very kind and helped me with an ear infection I had. Yes, my view of the NHS is good, but as the years have gone on, I’ve noticed changes. I think it just depends on who you get. Some people will be willing to think out of the box, like my neurologist and cardiologist in London, as well as the opthalmology team in Liverpool. However others won’t. I guess it’s who you know. I hope everyone is okay. Thank you for reading, and if any of the doctos/nurses from my past see this, thank you for your help and for educating me. For being very kind and friendly. I hope I can somehow find you just to thank you by voice.

Fastforward to today, I haven’t given up on the idea of becoming a doctor. I’m hoping to go to the US eventually and study medicine over there. I am aware someone is studying it in the UK, however it’s whether the NHS would be willing to think out of the box. I very much doubt they will. Charities have not even bothered to think out of the box for me either. Defibs talk. Why can I not learn to use them? For me, cardio-respiratory is good as is intensive care and trauma teams. I enjoy the fast pace but I also enjoy helping people and would enjoy being able to diagnose their problems both cardiac and respiratory. Yes, there are things you may have to see, the likes of a bronchoscopy, but they can be adapted. You can have an assistant and with the likes of thermoform paper and 3D printing, there is the ability to adapt things, as well as sonar and vibration. I have my own stethoscope, my own blood pressure monitor, my own thermometer as well as an SpO2 monitor. All of which talk. All of which I got through main-stream shopping. Via a pharmacy and amazon. The only one I got from RNIB was the thermometer. If the likes of Tim Cordes and a few before him, as well as Dr Jakob bolotin could do it, why can’t I?

The date of my eye surgery is confirmed. 14th march. We are going ahead. Operation cr. Calcium removal lol! It’ll be painful I know, but I can do it. This is my second time under anaesthesia. The first time, I was about 12. I was having a root of a tooth removed and they had to go digging. I can remember the machines beeping and the coldness of the anasthetic room. The anaesthetist was standing beside me and was telling me what to do. Counting backwards from 100 I think it was. I never got very far. I asked him before-hand, what it’s going to be like. He said, like going to sleep at night. Just like that. He was holding my hand as the canular was unscrewed and the drugs administered. The last thing I heard, was the beeping of the machine monitoring my heart and oxygen levels and as it faded, a warm sensation went down my throat. This I now know, was the boujie and endotracheal tubes to intubate me. I can remember swallowing almost instinctively, then nothing. The warmth was gone. Next thing I heard echoing voices and people talking next to me. I went to sit up, but was gently told to stay where I was. My throat was sore and scratchy. I was extremely tired afterwards, but quite alert. Now this time however, we have the seizures and POTS to contend with. It may be a walk in the park. It may not. We shall see. I have heard good experiences, and so far, my experience of the royal has been nothing short of exceptional. Except the drops issue, which is the IOM fault, not theirs’. So here we are. We shall see. Compared to the deep sedation I’ve had at the dentists and hospital for other things, which went well, apart from the mydazolam making my sats drop alittle,. That I’m used too. Those experiences too were very strange. The gas and air, entonox “was very strange. It starts off with a kind of warm, tingling sensation, which if the gas is increased quickly, can turn to nausea, so you have to be careful. Eventually, when you have the levels right, you start to feel like a pillow is underneath your head and you are looking down on the scene from above. Your hearing is dim, but not distant. You have coverings over your ears. And you feel very calm and relaxed. Slightly slurry but fine. With the mydazolam experience however, that is different. You start off quite normal, but then, you can taste alcohol, rather like the smell of sanitiser. But sleep washes over you. Rather like being groggy. Very drowsy. When the drugs ware off, you are sort of groggy, very tired still, but your brain is fighting sleep. Like a springboard, your head is sprung upwards off the pillows. The tears start to fall. I was asked, what are you scared of? As I told the nurse not to leave me. Infact, I pleaded with her to stay by my side. She asked the question above, what are you scared of? I said: I don’t know! I tried to ly back on my pillows, my brain fighting against the urdge to sleep! Like something was going to happen. Like it was slightly unnerving. Like I couldn’t be alone! I just couldn’t! Something was going to happen and I had to have someone there. In reality, nothing was going to happen. I was safe, They were watching me when they could. But in my mind, the sedated one, I was alone and didn’t have anyone beside me to make sure I was okay. It eventually wore off, but I was still very tired. ‘They discharged me off the dps, Day procedures suite, but I didn’t really want to leave. I was cosy, warm and in my pyjamas and just wanted to rest! Instead, I had to go home. Resting there. I couldn’t deal with eating. Even though I’d had to starve all day. The irony is that before an operation, you want food desperately, as it’s all around you and you can do nothing, but smell it. Hear plates and cups rattling. Afterwards though, you just don’t want anything. A drink perhaps, but not food! It’s strange that. We shall see how I cope this time round. The wards I’ve been told, are luxury compared to the IOM. Your own room with a toilet! Wow!!! We have nothing like that! Just a bare open ward, with a toilet at each side and a shower room I think. With beds and curtains around them. The door always open so the bells can be heard outside. Your sleep very irregular and hard. Your sleep punctured every now and then with the bells going off and the sound of people coughing. Or you yourself coughing. THEN at 5 AM, an early rise, as your obs are taken. Breakfast at 7 AM then you dress and wash, before waiting for the doctor to come and see you. Before discharge. You feel weird when being discharged. Like entering back into the outside world from somewhere. Back into the unknown. Into the day, but it feels like night. The hospital kind of felt like normality You were used to it, but back home, things felt strange. Yes, you were in your own surroundings, but everything felt earlier. You’d sort of gone back in time! Hmm! Very odd. Hopefully though, you’ll all get an experience discription. When I have the surgery. Just sitting here listening to music as I write. It’s still a cold snowy night. With frost in the air. The biting northerly wind. I love those nights and mornings. The crisp air. I remember I had to do stamina exercises at school. To run from one side of the yard to the other. The air was cold, icy and crisp. Running through the yard, I remember it making me cough. But I still did it. I used to enjoy it. When ever it snowed, I would always ask, can I go out and feel it? Feel the flakes of cotton wool? It would never stay long enough though. I would always be praying for a snow day. Praying for one less day of my support worker. For one less day of anxiety. For one cosy day at home. But it never really came. Yet here we are, in the 6th year of my psychology degree with my graduation hopefully this year! Thank you to all who are supporting me on my journey through life! It means so much to me! Have a big virtual hug! insertion point at end

Well, here’s something strange. My experiences of hospitals. Most of them, from when I was young, were good. From trips to Casualty, for splitting my eye brow open to being seen in children’s ward for ear infections and other things. I can vaguely remember some of them. Walking down long corridors, through automatic doors into the what was then, small entrance hall. Going up some stairs, to a gate which had to be unlocked by a small hook that you removed from the hole in the top. Walking through the gate, I could hear children and other things. People talking. Then my nan or grandad, taking me to reception. Can remember the day I woke up in severe pain, from an ear infection. Getting into children’s ward and I think, bypassing casualty, I was seen and sent through to audiology. I can remember the headphones for hearing tests being placed on the front and back of my head. I remember finding it interesting. Other times, when I can remember going in for routine paediatric check-ups and asking the consultant could I feel his dictaphone. He obliged and I remember enjoying telling him the make and asking him about the buttons. He showed me his voice on it and I can remember laughing about it. Other times of seeing the eye specialist and him telling me my eyes do not and from about 1 month maybe 2, never reacted to light. What tiny bit of sight I had, went quickly. Eye-drops being put into my eyes. Having a tooth removed under anasthetic. The recovery room and the nurses being very comforting. The anaesthetists holding my hand before I drifted off to sleep and him telling me what was going to happen and what it would feel like. Them letting me feel certain things. The implant of my loop recorder, again with very nice nursing staff, comforting me when I was in tears over something I didn’t know. The after affects of the drugs. Being in ED (casualty) from having seizures. Tachycardia. Some of my experiences with ED staff weren’t good, but some were. I guess it depends who you get and what condition is flaring up at the time. They don’t understand POTS over here, neither do they understand IST. The only negative experiences from the cardiology team, have really been the lack of understanding of my heart conditions, as well as from respiratory, at times, being reluctant to listen to me, but because of the brilliant respiratory physiotherapist, I now have the things I need in place. I now have a good consultant too. My by far best experience of the nhs though, was last week, with the opthalmology department in The Royal. St. Paul’s eye unit. They have gone and are continuing to go above and beyond to help me. Next to that experience, is my neurologist. Who has always listened to me. When we struggled to get hold of him in the past, he stayed on the phone after hours of clinic, for an hour to help me and talk through things. He has even confirmed the brain ischaemia I had and still have, as a result of my brain haemorrhage as a premmy. Yes, I know at times, I have been fed-up and ranted about the NHS, but that was because of the lack of awareness and understanding. When they are dealing with something that is understood and that they are skilled at dealing with, they are nothing short of brilliant! My thanks again goes to St. Paul’s eye unit and the Walton Centre, for such a great neurologist who comes over to the island to help us all!

The royal liverpool hospital. The opthalmology unit. A huge vast atrium, with people walking too and from. The smell of coffee and food wofting all around me. The jingling noise of the beeping telling people where to go as well as peoples’ names being called. Then, my name was called. Off we went, into a smaller room, where I was weighed and my height measured. A scan was taken of my cornier. In both eyes. Eventually, I was brought to the consultant. A very nice person, who explained the operation I will have. The removal of calcium from both eyes. It will not bring the sight back that I originally had as a very small baby, which I knew, but it will make my eyes more comfortable. Eventually I went for the pre-op, having met a lovely nurse called Andrea. She said she would come to see me when I was admitted to hospital. We are not sure of the date yet.

Afterwards we went for lunch. This was on the 10th floor of the building. The view was apparently fantastic. I wish I was able to see views from high places and the view of the sunrise and sunset from up in a plane. The curry I had was lovely. Butter chicken. Later we headed for the airport with the very good taxi driver mark. I was talking to him about lourdes. He said he had two sets of Rosary beads from different places in the front of his car above the drivers seat. When we arrived at the airport, he let me feel them. What are the chances of this? The first set of rosary beads I felt, were crystal and from Lourdes. The other set were wooden and from Fatima. A place of pilgrimage in Portugal. What are the chances of me feeling safe all day. Safe in the hands of the staff at the Royal and safe in the hands of that Taxi driver, as well as the HCA who went with me. I definitely think I was looked after that day. I was in safe hands and I know I will be when I go for my operation too. I know at times, I have been annoyed with certain NHS doctors and departments, because they do not understand my conditions I have, but so far, the opthalmology department in the Royal is excelent! I cannot fault them at all! Even the catering staff. They were all brilliant! People have asked me am I worried about my surgery? The answer is no. Why? Because I know I will be looked after no-matter what! I will have my rosary with me “as well, in my bag in my locker, but I know our lady and God will be giving the doctors the guidance and me the faith. I will never worry really about medical proceedures, as I have my faith. I know at the start of my very dramatic life being born at 26 weeks into this world, I was meant to be screened for ROP, my eye condition, but wasn’t. Yes, that was negligence on their part, but they saved my life. Prayer too saved my life. My Nan saved my life also. Many people along my life have helped me. Saved me from the grips of seizures. From the grips of depression, where I sometimes thought of ending my life, but couldn’t and didn’t. My faith stopped me. My friends stopped me. The thought of people missing me stopped me and the awful feelings I would feel if I overdosed on my meds. Which was my plan. I used to be scared of myself, of what I’d done in my violent outbursts. Wondered why I’d done it. What was going on with my brain! Demanded to know from my neurologist, who couldn’t help. Because he didn’t understand. No MRI scan or CT would really tell me, other than confirm, which they have, the ischaemia that is in my brain from when I was born, that most likely caused the epilepsy. I have opted to stay on Citalopram, for the safety of myself and others. It is helping me. All as I will say, is Thank you to those supporting me and those new who have joined me in my journy through life. To God for my strenth and faith. To our Lady and st Bernadette and Cecilia. I have been asked if I would ask for a miracle in Lourdes. Or walsingham. The answer is no. If God or Our Lady wants a miracle to happen for me, then it shall. If not, then it won’t, but I will not pray for one. I will not ask for one.

This is an exerpt from my memoires I started writing back in 2008. I hope you will like it.

It was that time eventually. After 3 hard months of work. It was time to go out and sing. However, something was threatening to stop me singing. I started to develop a nasty sore throat, again. No! Not the day before a vital performance! why? Why? This was surely going to be it. I would have to cancel. It got worse. By the afternoon, I could hardly speak, again. There were signs of inflammation on my vocal cords. I could feel it threatening to come. Trying so desperately to get better, as fast and carefully as I could, I took drinks of honey in boiled water, had strong steamed baths, Albas oil in water, for me to breathe, as yet again, my breathing was affected. Also, I was under strict rules. At least twenty-four hours vocal rest. That meant no talking, at all. The Sunday morning dorned. Sunshine, beautiful sunshine. I tried to speak, but still all in vain.It was time. The car arrived. After taking yet another honey drink, and albas and steam bath, I was ready, ready to face what was thrown at me. I arrived at the hall, where I was to perform. Heart racing, nearer the time and breathing increasing, I tried to control the violent urge to cough. I couldn’t. I had to have some water. Perhaps it was just nerves, but I still had the fear that I would cough in the middle of singing. Here it was, the time. Would my voice fail? Now we would find out. After bearly even able to hit a d5 that morning, we would see, whether my voice was up to the test. I took the breath. Starting to sing, my voice was coming out. Smooth, warm, with vibrato, in full resonance. Exactly what i wanted. How was this? After all morning of desperate struggling during warm up exercises, and now it was coming out, perfectly? Not up to full potential, but still about ninety-five percent there. The marks were given, “Samantha Ash, 87” What? 87? Distinction? Wow!!! I thought. My heart leaped. On the monday night, my hair, once I was onstage, lit up in the glowing bright lights, which made it look like I had a halo around me from my feet up. It was beautiful, such a beautiful glow in the bright lights of the villa Marina Royal Hall stage. The cheers I received afterwards were unexpected. I was amazed. However on Friday, I had to sing German Lieder. I had to sing Du Bist die Ruh, a piece by Schubert. It means You are the Peace. So, it was time. I had done my exercises, eaten something and arrived waiting. Now, just a few minutes to go, and already my heart rate was speeding up. Guided on to the stage, I was placed right next to the piano, under the instructions of my singing teacher, who was to accompany me. He could not guide me on to the stage though, as he had to be ready and waiting at the piano. The time had come. After the harsh and somewhat bad remarks from the judge on Monday, I did not know what to expect. One of his remarks was that I “Look at the audience.” That’s very easy for someone who can see, but not for someone who is blind. The opening was played. Sighing heavily, I began, breath control very poor. I tried to sing the start, breath support becoming less and less. Oh no! I thought as the high note was coming up. It let go too soon. i lost, again. lost to in my opinion, someone who did not deserve the award. They were very poor. That defeat over with, after not gaining anything hardly from the experience apart from the fact it was not all fair, I set about preparing for the college talent competition, the final performance. April twenty-seventh dorned. A warm sunny morning. Lunch time approached fast. The boys planning all morning what they were going to do to me during the show. Shout, buzz, yell how rubbish I am and many more things besides. I have to admit, I lost my confidence. I asked the teacher, a very kind lady, alto, who sings in a choir, “Will they laugh? Do something? Is it worth going?” es. you must! You must go! You’ll be fine. Just fine. I promise.”With that, I walked from the room. Ready to face what was about to happen. Heart racing, I struggled to eat my lunch. The time had come. The man approached me. “Come after your lunch and meet me in the hall and wait there.””Certainly.”I replied. The time was nearing very quickly. The music to the show played, I was sitting backstage nervously awaiting my turn. first, second, third, forth, then fifth, me, me, my turn. Shaking slightly, I was guided onstage. Asking for a stand, as not to hold and whistle the microphone, which for your information, I detest greatly, I placed it on the stand. The music came. I began. here I was. Singing, and there they were The classmates in the audience. There they were I was waiting. Waiting for them to do something, it did not come. Then When I finished, the cheer that rose was completely unexpected. Eruptions of screams rose from the seats below. Gasping, I stood there amazed. That was all for me? Did I really do that well? Really? Really? Really? That is what I deserve? Afterwards, when it came to the judges comments, one of them was Italian. He asked “Did you know what you were singing? I hope you do. Those words were beautiful. Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.”Another comment was “Technically excellent!”from the college principle. Then, the moment of truth. Did I win? or was this another defeat? No, It is defeat. I have not done it. I won’t do it. I know it. How wrong I was. “Don’t get excited.”Said a voice, ou’ve come first!”Totally surprised, I exclaimed “Wow! Wow!Have I?” es! yes you have!”I had no sooner walked out of the door into the corridor, when cheers came from a few feet away. “Wow! Oh goodness! All for me!”All for me!”Savouring the moment, I walked slowly, savouring my euphoria. My win, my first win, at long last, with singing. I proved the truth, I can sing. I am gifted. A few weeks later, my name was all over the local papers. People started asking “Can I have your autograph sam? Can i have your autograph?”yes! If you have a piece of paper and a pen, or even the newspaper, I will sign it!”I replied laughing. Another taste of what I think and hope with all my heart, is meant to be. A glimpse into my future singing career. The soprano who graces the met stage. The unique soprano, as she is blind.
One can dream. One can hope.

Good evening all. I’m glad to have submitted my assignment before CHRISTMAS. Today, I performed do you hear what I hear, at Sight matters. Here it is. Enjoy.

Well it’s almost the end of 2023. I never would have thought this year would have gone so quickly. But it has. What events stand out? Walsingham is one, Lourdes is the other major event, but looking back I’m not sure of any others, well, there is one, but it’s quite a sad memory now. It was of me meeting someone, in Liverpool, and we looked very happy together, as friends. I very much doubt that now. Thanks to me and other people using her to psychologically manipulate me. I am also in a relationship which is good, so that’s another event that stands out, although I’m still trying to get used to things. It’s quite interesting. I just hope my life will be okay next year if I’m still around, as people keep threatening the police on me, when I’ve done nothing. I hope everyone is well. I’m recovering from the covid vaccine at the moment. No-doubt this post will get trolled, but I think my partner is quite capable of dealing with them. Ha ha! Hope you all have a good day. And thank you again, to Dignity for helping me to work out, or attempt to work out, who these trolls are.

I really enjoyed Walsingham. Such a lovely weekend with lovely people! People who I have made friends with and who’s memories I will treasure. People I will endeavour to keep in touch with as much as possible. Thank you for the singing. Thank you for the compliments. Thank you for the friendship, the acceptance. For allowing me to be myself. Thank you for the happiness. You are all a bunch of lovely people and I feel like one of the St Pauls family, as well as my st Anthony’s family. Until next time I come over to my Liverpool home. Lol! Big hugs. Once again, Thank you so so much! My faith is deeper, My spirit is stronger. My mental health is stronger. Thank you. The shrine is such a beautiful place. Quiet, peaceful and calm. A quaint little vilage in the country side of Norfolk. The staff in the hotel were outstanding. Even when someone told me to shut up when I was singing and slammed their door. That shook me up a little bit. A nice break to get away from the stresses of “niversity. I love browsing in the shop at the shrine and looking at all the meddles and rosary beads. There was a miracle though. I lost my bus pass which was my ID for getting back on the plane. Worried I’d lost it for ever, I was asking around in the shops and praying I would find it. We got back on the coach, after a brilliant night at the Thursford Christmas Spectacular. Suddenly, Helen looked down the side of the seat next to me, and found the bus pass. I said to her, after a huge sigh of relief, I told you St Anthony would find it. A miracle of Walsingham. Until next year, my lovely Liverpool family.

I’m now sat in reception here at sight Matters and am enjoying it, but at the same time, I have to get some study in for my assignment due in 2 days. Regarding the comments on my most recent post yesterday, you will see that people are just trying to get drama started. Yes, we know I made plenty of mistakes. Yes, we know I caused hurt to many people. I know it’ll take time for them to forgive but that’s fine. I don’t mind. Anyway, I hope everyone is well.

The following words were written by me in 2009. I have since edited the spelling errors, or what I could find. This is a slightly detailed account of the traumas throughout my school life along with some nicer memories too. I did however, forget about most of them and when I reread the document yesterday, after finding it in a folder, things came back. Having epilepsy sometimes makes one have a little amnaesia. This makes it very interesting when you read back through old documents, or look back at old audio recordings of what you have done.

29.4.09

Evaluation of my support.

During Infants school, I met my first support officer who was called Mrs O.

At first we got on very well and enjoyed everything we did together.  We used to sing, she used to listen to me playing the piano, also she helped with the violin and how to play it because I found it difficult and also, she helped me to read my first words in braille.  However sometimes we used to have arguments.  Once I was in the hall singing in assembly with everyone else when Mrs O came up to me and moved me by the arm to another part of the hall.  I don’t know what I’d done at all, I was just sitting there doing what everyone else was doing and thoroughly enjoying it.

Gradually things began to get harder throughout my school life, mathematics and various other things.  Mrs O used to take me for walks, when we were doing art, to find bits of bark off trees, leaves, feathers and other things for my collages in year two.  She also helped me with swimming.  We used to sing in the pool, jump around and she used to hold on to my hands when we were doing the breast stroke.

In Fairfield, my primary school, Mrs O started to get more strict with me.  We didn’t sing any more, we didn’t do the good things we used to, we didn’t go out for walks as much, also we didn’t chat as much.

She was very serious with me.  She started to be serious in year four, sometimes when I did things she used to shout at me telling me that I was in primary school and not to be rude.

Also my music was getting better.  The teacher in Fairfield had noticed that I could play the piano and had asked me to take part in assemblies by sometimes playing and accompanying the children in their songs.  Mrs O disapproved of the matter saying why did I want to do it and why did I have to.  One day I kept it a secret from her, but to my dismay, she found out.  I had to tell her.  She got cross saying `I know you’re playing the piano in assembly Samantha.  You don’t have to keep it a secret.` she sounded angry.

I don’t think she was very encouraging which is one of the qualities a teacher or support officer is supposed to have.

Mrs G was very encouraging though. In the times when we were together in the work room, we would play `Winning games.` which involved me winning something if I got the word right. In the holidays, every Friday, she would play a `Winning game for buttons.` with me. If I got all the words correct I would end up winning the whole packet of buttons that she bought from the shops that morning and they were nice too. Once or twice she ended up winning a few buttons and sometimes stole some while I was reading the words. Also she took me round the schools so that I knew where my coat peg was, my classroom, the hall! where I loved to shout because of the echos. I still love echos now because I love singing. Mrs G also once set the burglar alarm off in Glen Crutchary School and she ended up running around ringing people and asking for the code. I didn’t go with her because the noise was unbearable and it hurt my ears. Another time was when we were in Fairfield, in the work room, reading The night it rained Chips.` not chips, wood chips and suddenly, the fire alarm went off. When we arrived outside, there was a huge dark cloud of dust which was opaque.

Mrs H came in year four because Mrs O had to go somewhere else. She was an excellent teacher! She helped me with science, mathematics, also with reading. The best book she read me was Lady Daisy. I cried at the end of it. She had a `High Voice.` and the same hands as another teacher in the school. When they were both in the playground, I used to push their hands towards each other to show them that they both had the same hands. It brings back many memories. I also used to like blowing teachers whistles because I loved the noise. Mrs H started teaching me chemistry, solids, liquids and gases., showing me how sugar dissolves in water and what sirup feels like.

When I was in year five, Mrs H had to retire, due to her health.  I was upset.

Unfortunately, in year six, Mrs O returned. She was even more strict with me and once when I was rubbing something out with my braille rubber and thinking about what to write next in my English essay, Mrs O, who was talking to Miss D, the English teacher at the time, gripped my ear and then put her hand over it, saying that I shouldn’t be listening into her conversations. I couldn’t help it, as they were both standing behind me.

Also I noticed as we went into secondary school, she began to talk with all the male teachers, laughing and joking as if they were her friends or sometimes as if she liked them.

If I said something like why were you doing that, she got cross and said it was nothing to do with me.  Also in the science lessons when she came into year ten she laughed and joked with the female biology teacher when she should have been helping me with my work.

Also she’d be texting or talking on her mobile if it rang during back-up lessons.  The most annoying time but sometimes funny was in year ten, in French.  She was flerting, or what seemed like flerting with my French teacher who seemed to enjoy it.  On one occation she asked him over to her house as a joke and then said, would you like to come down to resource base for a cup of tea.  He laughed and said that he’d meet her down there.  We all used to stop working because they took up the whole of our lessons, laughing, joking, talking about the sixties, the seventies, the eighties and also the present day.  He used to talk to Mrs O in this Manchester accent when ever they were both talking.  She sometimes made me stressed when ever I thought things were mixed up or not brailled.  I used inend up crying to Mr B in the work room because I was so upset.

On one occasion she stressed me out just before my module three mathematics examination.  Sometimes I think both her and my French teacher both wanted to get involved in the `Let’s shout at Samantha. campaign.

Also she said one day that she would make a list of the times I was rude or something, I answed back by saying `Yes, you do that then!!` shaking with anger. She got angry asking me Would you like to go to the head teacher for being rude to teachers.`

I said no but should have said yes.

I think Mrs O thought herself more important than she actually was.

I also forgot to mention talking about self importance that in year six, she made a stupid home school book which the teachers, mostly her wrote in if I was rude or anything.  She used to threaten me with it by saying `What should I put in the book, Samantha hasn’t had a good day because she was rude and answering back?.` it reduced me to tears.  Also she bossed taxi escorts around telling them where to put me in the taxi but she met her match when Frida, one of the escorts stood up to her telling her she was under no circumstances allowed to tell her where to put me and that when I was in their care, they decided.  Also that she was getting excited.

I laughed and thought the whole thing hilarious.

Finally, I thought, she’s met her match.  Someone is standing up to her bossy antics.

All the other support workers, Mrs M, Mr B and some one were all very good and encouraging especially Mr B.

We went swimming in year eight and he threatened me with the `Hand of fate.` as we called it.  If I didn’t go under water, the hand of fate, his hand would push my head under.

Although in year nine, we had some laughs.  Waterfights were a big feature in the pool.  Me and Mrs B  plotted everyday What shall we do to Mr B? we’ll push him under.` only one day, our plots were foiled.  Mr B, unknown to us had learned braille! I wrote a note to Mrs B, telling her what our plot entailed.  She promised she would put it somewhere safe, but not safe enough.

Mr B came in and found the piece of braille on the table.  What’s this? What’s this? Talk casually to Mr B.  then push him under? We both turned round and said No No! it wasn’t like that.

We weren’t going to do that? why would we?

He is the best teacher out of them all.

When I was stressed, he consoled me telling me to be calm and collective and if they gave me a hard time in the morning to politely ignore them saying I had an examination and that I didn’t want to be stressed.

At the end of every back-up lesson he’d let me listen to some Spanish music or him talking Spanish.  He would also teach me a bit.

He is very good at explaining things to me in mathematics or science.  Now I’ve got to hope that with everybody’s help, I will pass my GCSEs.  I’m sure I will.

I will put my grades on the end of the document.

I never did put the grades at the end of this document, nor did I show it to anyone, I don’t think.

But finding this document brings back some memories that I had completely forgotten about. I’d forgotten about the walks I used to go on, although I can remember going past houses with little doors on them that stuck out of the walls. Can remember the smell of the trees by the local bowling green. I can also remember Mrs O’s perfume. Cherevienne.

It made me twitch nervously as her steps grew nearer as I got to year 6 and older. Her rapid clip-clopping shoes, or her small sandals she used to wear. You knew she was coming. The room would go colder. What mood was she in? What was I in for today

 Where was I going to end up with my ears close to the bell? On purpose. Was there going to be another shouting match with only the coldness and echoes of the stairwell for company?  Or the room disappearing from warmth to ice cold in seconds? Or my heart racing and the shaking or twitching of anxiety? Which lasted almost the whole day? Or the constant edgy feeling, when ever she would walk into the lessons to read things to me off the white boards, or watch me like a hawk while I was typing or writing. I was never free. Only when she wasn’t in.

Afterwards, there was the college experience. When I was asked, Can we have a word? The familiar anxiety would creep in, with the preparation to be yelled at. And the tears being prepared.

There was also the isolation from people. The isolation from my music, from my languages, from being able to allow the teachers to see my potentials. One time, she told me the teachers only gave me merets to feel sorry for me. I am glad now, that I can show off. I can finish my degree. I wonder what she would say now, when eventually she sees my BSC (Hons) in psychology. Well, all as I can say, is no thanks to you. But well done to others.

This week has been rather strange. Well, so far it has. Certain things have been going on, but I’ve managed to talk about them with Katie. Although something keeps buzzing around my mind and I wish it would go away. Something keeps buzzing in my brain, about being a so called “hypercodriac.” If I had nothing wrong, I would not be asking for tests. Or referrals to different places. If there was nothing wrong, they wouldn’t refer me. If there was nothing wrong, I wouldn’t be on the medication I am on now. My medication is necessary. All of it. Last night, part of me was thinking, I may as well just ditch the whole lot. Not bother taking them at all. But then, everything would come back. The tachy, the seizures etc. Oh, but then I’d get told I was “seeking attention.” Well, you all think I’m an apparent hypercondriac, or wasting NHS time! So, what’s the point? Why take my meds if you all think there’s nothing wrong? Why turn up to my appointments? Why make them anyway? Why go to my clinical appointments? Like you all say, if there’s nothing wrong, Then I should be fine, right? Well, unfortunately, there are things that are different. I seek second opinions, because I’ve done my homework. The doctors in London referred me to the royal Brompton. I never asked. They just did. I asked for the bronchoscopy because it was the only test we had not done, to rule everything out. I have no idea what the Royal Brompton will say! I don’t ask for these opinions, because I want to go on an exciting medical adventure! I don’t ask for these tests, just because I want them! I don’t ask for them, if there’s nothing going on! I wouldn’t ask for the likes of an endoscopy, just because I want one! I wouldn’t just go, oh, here’s an idea, I’ll ask for a colonoscopy, because I’ve not had one of those and it would be an interesting thing to do! Why? Because I don’t need them! There’s nothing wrong with my colon! There’s nothing wrong with my stomach. So, why ask for one! A hypercondriac would do such a thing! They’d make up that something was wrong, but there’s nothing at all wrong! I just wanted to get that thing straight. So, those who are calling me that! Please refrane from that! It’s affecting me. It’s affecting my mental health! I’ll ask you agea Please stop. And it’s not just people online. It’s my family as well! Which hurts more! Please stop this!

Wednesday morning came and off I went to the hospital. It was bright and early and the corridors were very quiet. The cleaners had only just begun to leave. Up in the lift we went, to the endoscopy unit. I could smell the smell of food wofting up the stairs. I was met by a lovely receptionist, who checked me in and chatted to me a bit. I went through with a lovely nurse to the endoscopy suite with a lovely nurse who gave me some wrist bands that stated my name, date of birth, and medication etc. The people there were so kind and gentle. Later, another nurse came and inserted my canular. This was for the mydazolam and ondansetron to go intoo later. The nurse was very bubbly and chatty. Once they had found out I was a classically trained singer, they asked me to sing for one of their colleagues as it was her birthday. I agreed and got a rowsing round of applause. It was time for the bronchoscopy I was brought into the room, where I was introduced to the lovely nurse Lisa and the HCAs alongside her. Luckily, it was the consultant I knew and trust who was doing the procedure. She too introduced herself and explained what was going to happen. First, the numbing of the throat. This felt very strange indeed. At first, I was coughing and spluttering and felt like I was choking. The nurse was calming me and telling me that I could swallow and had to trick my brain into thinking I could swallow, whilst under the influance of the local anaesthetic. The brain automatically envokes the obstruction in the airway response, but this time, we needed to changethe way of reacting. Eventually, I was laid flat and the ondansetron was inserted over a 3-5 minute slow IV. Later, the mydazolam was given. After this, I do not remember much, accept heaving when the bronchoscope was removed. I awoke in recovery, with my throat feeling like it was closed. I felt like I was breathing through a straw The lovely nurse, Jane, in recovery sat me up and calmed me and checked my sats They were normal. I was tachy throughout the bronch a little though. On and off. I’d like to thank the nursing staff in the endoscopy ununit and the consultant who conducted the procedure. You were all extremely nice, caring, calm and a credit to the nhs! Thank you for what you do. I would also like to add my thanks to the physiotherapy department who saw me on the friday and the respiratory physiotherapist, who is listening to me and allowing me to ask questions, as well as being curious herself about what the Royal brompton have to say. Thank you all.

Today is going to be an interesting day. The first job of the day is a bronchoscopy. I have never had such a procedure before but decided that it needed to be done. As a way of investigating the barking cough I’ve had for the last few years. The results may be normal, which will be good, but at least I can say we’ve done the tests and that it’s only my asthma. After that, I’ll have a lovely chat with my great aunt Brenda. ‘I love chatting with her. She’s a lovely person. After that, I’ll be coming home then having some soup, if I’m able. I’m not sure what I’ll be doing later on, but we’ll see. Hope everyone has a good day today. Now time to get up and dressed.

Next week, I will be chatting to an inspirational blind Physician who is in the US. I have always wanted to study medicine. Theproblem is, in the UK, people do not think out of the box. TheUS do. Eventually, I think this means I’ll have to move state side, if I wish to pursue my dreams of doing medicine. I have always had a heavy interest in it and wanted to update my first-aid skills, but a charity over here, would not let me and used the excuse of “you’ll need someone with you all the time.” to try and get out of allowing me to do it. If there are any barriers standing in my way to do anything, I will guarantee to smash them down. Just because I have no sight, does not mean I can’t do anything at all! I will try my absolute best! And will take no notice of people who say I can’t! Currently, I’m sat in the dentist, waiting for my appointment, to fix a part of a front tooth that needs fixing, as the filling had fallen out!

Life has somehow taken a good turn, however there is a lot going on. I am now in a relationship with a guy who is totally blind. He collects records and has a very romantic way of sending songs from the 1940s and earlier. He collects rare records too and restores them, as he has a degree in music technology and audio engineering. Whilst that is a very new thing to me, the relationship front, I will face it head-on. I have never been in a relationship before so everything including hugs etc is extremely new. I have tried in the past, to start relationships with people, but it either sort of fizzled out, or they got frightened and ran away. I kind of blush when Rob tells me that he thinks about me all the time. It’s actually quite cute. And sweet. Bless him. There is, along side this brilliant chapter that is about to start, a rather challenging chapter. A family member has breast cancer and dealing with the fact she has had a mastectomy and waiting for the results, plus her mood swings because of the operation etc, is challenging, but we both support each other. I only broke down once so far, which was last week, when at Sight Matters. I find it hard to accept that she is a different person right now. Not the person I knew before. The one who was always active and never stopped. At the moment, I have to help with hoovering, cooking, lifting things as she is unable to do so. I do not mind this though. We both laugh at the fact I can only give her a (half-hug) not a full one yet. While I’m thinking positively about the results, my brain is doing strange things. I had a rather strange bad dream last night. With her passing away etc. I think that is because my brain is trying to piece things together or process them, but not doing it in the right way. I’m not worried about the dream I had, as I know at some point, it’ll happen eventually, and I will have to come to terms with it. That will be difficult and I will struggle, I know that. But I know I will have support. I know I have a lot of people who will help me with that. But on a brighter note, It’s sunny outside, I’m sitting in the garden. Hearing the noises of dogs barking, children playing out in the school playground, flies buzzing arround, the sound of starlings and jackdoors flying past as well. With the odd seagull punctuating into the mix. I hope everyone has a good weekend. I would like to thank those who take the time to read this blog and I hope they enjoy my updates, though they are at times, infrequent.

I have just come back from Lourdes. The centenary pilgrimage with Liverpool arch diocese. A pilgrimage I’ll never forget. I’ve met some lovely people, have enjoyed all the masses and the water jesture, where I spoke Italian to the person helping me, who also instructed me in Italian! I think my friend Chris, who died recently, was watching that day. I have loved every moment! Cried and laughed! The blessed sacrament procession is one of my favourite masses, as well as the blessing of the sick. I was in my wheelchair and felt serine and calm when I was blessed. An experience that made me cry. Although I have come back with a chest infection. I think though, that was because we had rain and we were out in that a lot. Thank you to the healthcare team, to the hospitality teams, the st. Bernadette team, the youth who push the wheelchairs, and to the archdiocese who organise the pilgrimage every year! Such a wonderful experience! Here’s to Lourdes 2024. I can’t wait!

Good afternoon. Today was my last counselling session for a while. I have reflected on what I’ve had help with over the last 3 years. It’s been very good and helped me a lot. I’VE managed to rebuild (some) friendships, but not all. I have still got issues with empathy, I will admit that. I still have my fears of rejection, which will not go away. It never will. I know this too. I just have to learn to think rationally. Okay, that person needs space, but it doesn’t mean they’re going anywhere. I ruined a friendship because of that. Because of my irrational thinking. I thought she was going away from me, as everyone else did. I was, in the end, right I tried desperately to fix things, but the all’s in her court now. I just have to wait. Again. And pray the friendship may be rebuilt.

I have started talking to a lovely person I met when I was about 11 or 12. We met at an RNIB holiday at Carlton Lodge in Thursk. North Yorkshire. The lodge was sort of like a small mannor, with a guild games room, A hall where people could gather, a dining room, bedrooms both inside and out. They had dormitories where people could sleep, which the girls slept in and the boys would sleep outside in the outside single bedrooms. I enjoyed the holiday, as we got to go quadbiking, absaling, Zipwire, Obsticle kind of course, with Jacob’s ladder which is like a swinging ladder in trees. We got to go to a town nearbye called Whitby. It was a day-trip, which took us across the Yorkshire moores, which made me think of Wuthering heights by Emily Brontë. I wanted to get out of the bus and walk across the moores, but I wasn’t allowed. Alass, Nevermind. As well as the little play that me and another participant did. It sort of went well, but was a bit of a laugh too. It is lovely to reconnect with someone you have spoken with on and off over the years. Very interesting. To look back on memories too. Who knows what might happen, whilst I go to Lourdes in 2 weeks. Will there be a miracle of Lourdes? If so, what will it be? That’s for God to decide and our Lady.

I have just bindge-watched the whole series of There she Goes. A bbc TV drama about DYRK1A a genetic condition that causes developmental delay and various other issues. I was very interested and would love to learn more. I love neuropsychology and would love to work with people who have those kind of conditions. Both adults and children. I would feel very rewarded. When watching the drama, I too became very emotional when Rosie spoke her first words and when she understood certain things. I think the mother was not being very fair though. The father was learning things and wanted to do more, which was good. I also was surprised at the son’s attitude. He was at first, he wasn’t very happy but then gradually, he grew to love her. A very good and emotional drama. I just wish there was going to be another series.

Not long until I go to Lourdes. A month to be exact. I have got my euros and have put them away safe. Now just to count down the days! It’s going to be so exciting! I’m sitting in the garden in the sun at the moment. I can hear the children playing outside in the school playground up the road. I can hear the birds in the trees. I have got my olympus LSP5 to record some memories of Lourdes. I will be praying for one thing every day. That friendships can be rebuilt. I hope everyone has a good day today.

Today so far hasbeen another good day. Just going back out into the garden. The steroids have settled my chest down which is good. I’ve taken a photo of me with Loki. The lovely little patt. Enjoy.

A few months back, I’d caught a rotten chest infection, which lead to me having my first tonic-clonic seizure in 4 and a half years. In a way, I was quite frustrated, but also asking why. What had caused the breakthrough seizure? A month or so ago, I was at church. We’d headed in for refreshments when apparently, my left arm started shaking and was waving around in front of my face. My godmother ran to my aid. Someone helped her to get me on the floor, where I’d started seizing. After about 2 minutes, the seizure stopped. I came round to hear people singing my favourite hymn. The one I loved from Lourdes. We’d just sung it before in mass that morning. I could hear someone telling me to take deep breaths. I could hear someone struggling to breathe. I did not realise the person struggling to breathe, below me, was actually me. Eventually, I tried to move and respond, so was gently sat up and lifted onto my chair, where I started to wrech. Afterwards, confused and groggy, I was brought home by my other godmother. Was held by my shoulders and gently steered to the car. I got home and had some toast and a cup of tea, but promptly crashed into a 2 hour sleep. After that, my asthma has started playing up. I’m now back on steroids… for the second time this year! Still, nevermind. I’m back on track with my singing as from today. I’ve bought myself a new recording device to take to Lourdes with me and am figuring out the menu system, as this one does not speak. It’s not the end of the world though when you have a piece of equipment that does not speak, as you can get sighted assistance, then write down your own menu instructions. For example, how to count the amount of times one presses the arrow keys to get to certain parts of the menu that you require. I’ve also paired it up with my iphone and labelled the unlabelled images in the app by using screen recognission and labelling the images with the function on voiceover which allows you to label elements with your desired custom label. With that being successful, I can now change the recording settings as I wish. When I get the zoom H1, I will be able to do the same, regarding the menu instructions. I will have to write a document, with the list of menus, followed by what is in them and count the arrow key presses in each list, to select what you desire to do. Just because something does not speak does not mean you cannot use it. You can still make it accessible. Yes, with the help of sighted assistance, but it can still be done. Take advantage of the sighted assistance where required. You’ll be surprised what you can do.

Regarding friendship, It’s amazing how those people in the church helped me when they could have panicked. Seizures are quite scary to some. They could have left. They could have ran. They didn’t. My godmothers both stayed calm. As did a few others. They never left my side. Where online friendships are concerned, I trust ‘our lady and God to help give me the guidance and to repare them. I forgive everyone what ever they’ve done to me. Most of the breaking of friendships was my fault entirely, however certain people twisting stories and events, did cause a lot of misunderstandings as well and unnecessary stress for us all. One thing I’m sure of though, is that in time, I can repare things. I just have to have faith. Trust in God and our lady. And also, Lourdes and the spiritual feelings one gets when there. As well as the strength of prayer. I’m going in 5 weeks and I cannot wait! It’s going to be an exciting adventure once more and one I will never forget. Just as I’ve never forgotten 2019. And the friends I’ve made there, will be friends for life. As well as the friends I’ve made through them in Liverpool! Thank you. Thank you all.

Good afternoon. I went to the gP yesterday. My asthma has flared up. It’s not a chest infection I’m weazing very loudly. So back on the prednisolone again, on a new antihistomine and a new inhaler. Hopefully things will be better. Am just drinking a cup of tea, and took this selfie of me in the garden.

So yet again, we have another heat wave! I’m enjoying it, although my asthma isn’t! I’m sitting in the garden, but in the shade. Yes, I’m sat in the garden, but that does not mean I’m “purposely.” aggravating my asthma. I am counting down the weeks until I go to Lourdes for the second time. It’s going to be amazing and I will be seeing some friends again, and making new ones I hope. This kind of weather is great for the voice, although I won’t be singing for a while, because of this chest issue. I’m headed off to the GP this afternoon to try and see what’s going on. What isn’t helping, is the constant trolling. People calling me Ash (Hole) and posting photoshopped photos of me with a lighter etc. Yes, I’ve made mistakes. Yes, I have hurt people. Again. Do I want to rectify that? Yes. I do. I am not a dangerous individual as some put it. I genuinely do care about people. I want to help them. That is why I started a psychology degree back in 2014. Do I have mental health issues? Yes. I have depression and at times, anxiety, although I can tell the difference between that and my IST flares. Do I have a personality disorder? Well, I don’t know, but I know one thing, It’s not narcissistic. Do I message people a lot? Yes. But that’s because I’m excited and want to get to know them. Or if we have something in common, then yes. I will message them. Do I have friends who I hardly message, but want to keep in touch with? Yes. But they will tell me if they’re busy. If they’re not comfortable with discussing certain things, they will tell me. Am I curious about medical things in general? Yes. Because I have always had an interest. Do I go after disabled people? No! I never have and never would! Am I interested in their disabilities? Yes. You can learn a lot from disabled people, including myself. They are fascinating, because we do things in many different ways, unlike neurotypical folk. Does that mean I would stalk them etc? No! Would I change the way I act towards them? Yes, because you have to adapt to their needs. I wouldn’t however speak in the fake care voice as I call it. I find most carers are quite patronising and bend down to you. They then speak in your face. Erm, no, you can speak to me normally, thank you very much. I do hope that has answered some of the questions people have been hearing and reading. I hope this will prevent any twisted information getting to people. As these trolls do that. Manipulate information to change it so they can use it against people. And it’s not just me they’re doing it too either. They are doing it to other people as well. I hope everyone has a good day. Take care, stay cool and don’t stay in the sun for too long.

I haven’t posted on here for a while. There are 6 weeks until I go to Lourdes. I am really looking forward to it. I’m so grateful to everyone at both our church and the church in Liverpool for accepting me for who I am. Thank you so much. Currently, I’m sitting in the garden, with a bad chest infection. Again. I had another tonic-clonic seizure 3 weeks ago. Hopefully I won’t have any more.

Thank you to the person named antibullying society on my blog for coming forward and telling me who is behind this iom side of trolling. Yet they’re still saying I’m not leaving them alone? I’ve not spoken to them yesterday or the day before. Now I’m going to tell you something which will shock you all. About 2021/22 I think it was. One of the trolls coersed people into making fake accounts and threatened them not to tell anyone. A few days after that, a whole thing blew up. In which one of them decided to make one of the characters committ suicide, or attempt too! Then blame me for it. This made the person who they coersed very uncomfortable which I myself would be. While they left the situation and tried to do something about it, the trolls kept on with their story. I however, thought it was all real and tried to list suicide spots on the iom where they could have gone. Later, the trolls started saying I’d driven someone to the edge etc, when nothing of the sort had happened. They are still trying to use this lie against me even now. I am so proud of the people who they coersed. I’m so proud of them for getting out of their clutches! And proud to be friends with them both again! That’s as far as these trolls on iom and UK will go to try and destroy my life! They’ve gone as far as trying to report me for fraud which didn’t work. They’ve discussed a harassment pin I got on social media, which they are not allowed to discuss. They have also tried to stop me getting employment and bragged about it. Made lies up saying I’d retended to work for CAMHS and threatened to get their daughter’s information and post it. This is a total fabricated lie. I would never do that. I’ve never worked for CAMHS. I’ve never even spoken to this person about their daughter, neither did I know of their mh conditions. This is the lenths they will go. Why am I bringing this up? I’m bringing it up incase they come to you. Incase they try to coerse you into believing their lies with manipulated so-called evidence. I’ve many screenshots from back in 2016 where this all started. Where they recruited more to join their little army. Where one erson likes to insist I harassed them, when they whatsapped me under a fake name from their own mobile phone. Then went round telling their friends I was the bully. Then went round saying they can’t get involved in things because of legal action, when they did just yesterday. This is again, what people do. It gets you down. It is easier said than done to block them, as they come back with fake accounts and names, then cry victim when they’re reported for being fake. I’ve had this for 6 years now. Yes, some of it was my fault. I was quite nasty a few years ago. My own mental health went into decline and I didn’t realise. Until someone managed to make me see it was declining in lockdown. And thank you to them. Since then, I’m etting getting a lot better. Now for the reasons behind my multiple messages to people. As they’ve used that one against me as well!
I don’t know why I message people a lot, but my guess is that I try to make sure no one leaves me. After 6 years of people being manipulated, coersed, Screenshots being posted in public everywhere, people going round making fake accounts in my name, then posting stuff and posting screenshots of it, to try and cause trouble, I guess I’m just making sure people don’t leave me. Making sure they don’t get manipulated or think I’ve said stuff when I haven’t. As they don’t yet know me and I want them to get to know the real me. Not the picture they’re painting online. If you’re friends with me and I value you as a friend, you’re stuck with me. If we have each other’s numbers etc, you’re a friend of mine! I’ll never walk away from you and I hope not likewise. If you’re a busy person, at least please just let me know you’re still around, that you’re okay, and that we’re okay as friends still. I have the hidden anxiety that people are trying to cause trouble. Are they watching me? Yes, most likely they are. Are they physically following me everywhere? Well, who would know. I wouldn’t, but at times, I have my suspicians. Are they trying to destroy every friendship I make? Yes, Again I suspect that highly. They’ll be going round telling people to avoid me at all costs and show them stuff. So there you are. It’s all here for you. They say I’m making up my medical conditions as well. I’ve shown medical letters from consultants proving my diagnoses. Is that enough for you? It’s got to the point I say sorry for bothering the GP now. But yes, it’s easy to say ignore, block, but it’s not that easy. Still, I carry on. I have my singing, my university course. My true friends. The ones who are getting to know me. Please can we try to get to know each other more, both online and offline. You will see who I am in person. And see that I’m not the person they paint me as. And to the people who are going through the trolls targetting them right now? I feel your pain! I get it. You know where I am. It doesn’t elp with pots etc. Anyway, I hope you all have a good night and a good day tomorrow. 💜🌹☺️🙏🤗

I just want to say: I’m not the troll that people say I am. I’ve worked hard over the last 3 years! I’ve had over the last month, people trying to hack into my faceook accounts, create fake accounts in my name with my profile photo, desperaate to get fake evidence so they can destroy my reputation. Not just that, threaten police, threaten to report me to my voluntary place of work. Still continuing to troll my awareness pages I try to set up. Posting screenshots of old stuff, bringing up resolved stuff. Creating characters for their own use, then killing them off and blaming me, as if I caused the death of them. Fake suicide attempts. Again, trying to blame me for it. Twisting anything I say. It stops now! I’m done with their silly games! Live your own lives. Stop trying to destroy mine! No-matter how much you don’t like me, Keep that to yourselves. Stop with the private group chats. Sharing of screenshots in them and posting on public posts about me. Stop with the private investigator rubbish! You are not investigators! You are stalking, manipulative idiots! Who mess with peoples’ heads! Who gaslight people into believing you. Who edit and manipulate your own screenshots. Create fake accounts with my name, profile photo and then take screenshots of what you have written and post them saying it’s me. Saying it’s my writing! Enough is enough! I’m not angry! I’m upset! I will not hide away. You will mever drive me away! I will not end my life, as that’s what you would want! You would want my friends to dessert me! That will not happen! You want to manipulate others to to believing your lies! That stops now! Cause trouble somewhere else, but one day, you will reap what you sew! Good evening and god bless!

For those who get worried by the tone of this post, I’m fine. I’m talking to friends on facetime and enjoying myself. I’ve just done my radio show. The classical Café. Have just had my supper. Taken my tablets. All 3 of them. Verapamil, Montelukast and Vimpat.

Well, I’ve been feeling happier than I have in a long long time. I will not say why on here though, but only to say that things are hopefully, going well. I have been thinking recently, I do not want any war with people, to the trolls who commented on here, I forgive you for your nastiness. I forgive other people too. Life is too short! My friend who I met at the rnc in Hereford is not well, and it’s not looking good for him. Yes, I had a cry about that a few nights ago. They do not know what type of cancer he has, or what stage/grade. That we are waiting on news for. He is a lovely person. We met when he was having his assessment at the college. I wondered who he was and we started talking. He told me he spoke Italian. Was friends with someone from the isle of Man, who was also blind and they went to the same school. After that, he became a great and valuable friend. Helping me through many tough times at college, tougher times at UCLAN and also helping me through lockdown and taught me many things. About current affairs, shared his views on politics, shared how his acoustic shooting which I also do, was going. We’d have friendly rivalry as to who would win the meddals. He helped me to get hold of a mac and brought it over. We had a lovely meal that night and I helped him with places to go for shopping and things he needed. I’ve also made friends with his twin too. They both sound a little different, although their younger brother sounds like one of them, but with a thicker London Accent. Talking of London, I’m heading over there in 2 weeks, as I have to go for my autonomic tests. This involves testing how your nervous system reacts to certain exercises. I’ve also got a video consultation with the alergy department in the royal Brompton in June. They should sort out the bark I have when coughing. My eyes have been playing up as well, so I suspect the calcium build-up of deposits has worsened. Other than that, there’s not really much to update you on. I hope everyone has a good evening and weekend.