My wife, determined to pay her share of our rent, got a job as secretary to a barrister in Lincoln’s Inn chambers, and she suffered the same turmoil of the boiling mass of humanity that was London, particularly in the London underground rail network where in rush hour it was every man and woman for themselves! But our landlord: he said that our bed-sit had a bathroom, which it did. He didn’t say that six other families shared it. He said that it had cooking facilities — the two-ring gas hob in a corner under the slope of an upstairs staircase. He said that it had washing facilities, which it did if one counted a tiny sink with would be filled to the brim with a boiled egg.
It was October 1973 and after missing her due date of October 1, my mother’s obstetrician decided on October 30th that it was time to induce her. My mother’s labor hadn’t been progressing and on October 31st. they hooked her up to a fetal monitor and saw that I was under stress. This prompted the medical team to break my mom’s water in hopes of speeding up the labor and delivering me. When they broke the water they found meconium (a baby’s first bowel movement – which shouldn’t happen until the baby is delivered) and they were concerned that I had aspirated this sticky substance into my lungs. At the time, this was a serious and potentially life-threatening complication for the baby so my mother was immediately rushed into the operating room for an emergency c-section.
Due towards the terrible nature associated with delivery and potential meconium aspiration, I happened to be immediately taken fully to the children’s hospital to ensure i might get access to the greatest standard of care. Over the course of 11 days, they went countless examinations on me personally let’s assume that i might possess some permanent damage from the labor and delivery. Eventually, my moms and dads received permission to take me home following the physicians cannot find such a thing diagnoseable. Because they discharged me they left my parents with this particular extremely insensitive prognosis for my future, “Don’t anticipate much from her. At The Very Least, she’ll probably be hyperactive.”
Let me start with I LOVED MY HUSBAND more then anything. As far as I could find out, he cheated on me twice. The first time, he had left a chat up on the computer from a Facebook “friend”. To read those words, how they looked forward to seeing each other again and he couldn’t leave me yet, (even though she begged and he told her he thought of her everyday). I closed the Laptop and walked away. It took me a few hours to finally say something bc I was in complete shock.
He said they only talked, nothing ever happened and he would break it off immediately. I found her number, called her and asked her what happened: she said what do you think happened, but he won’t leave me), almost like I won? Fast forward 2 years, I was barely holding on, my weight dropped to 115, 5′10, I cried all the time daily. My health fell apart and after almost dying, I decided to quit my job (15 yrs)and work on our marriage of almost 20 years. 6 months after I left my job, I was DX with Lupus (SLE). I was sick all the time . All of a sudden he had all these work hrs, I mean leaving at 5 am, getting home 11 or 12 at night, where he would eat a sandwich and fall asleep in 30min. I started checking phone records and he was texting someone ALL day.
Fortunately after about three months our new house was ready and we were able to move out, but I will never forget that time in that bed-sit in Clapton. It was a salutary lesson of how people like Sian and Rob had to live, with little hope of ever improving their situation. We didn’t keep contact with Sian and Rob sadly, but I often wonder what happened to them: what would happen to them when they reached retirement age when their state pensions would no longer be sufficient to pay the rent on a decrepit bed-sit sharing a bathroom with six others? That experience dramatically changed my privileged view of life!