Speaking words of wisdom
"It isn't the pain itself I resent", they say. "I can live with the pain. What really hacks me off is that I have no reserves of stamina at all, and I'm permanently too exhausted to do all sorts of terribly mundane things that other people take completely for granted. And, while I'm on the subject, I also resent the fact that the people who can do those things with no appreciable effort whatsoever think it's terribly amusing to point out that they wish they could get out of housework/gardening/washing the car, and mustn't it be wonderful to have a built in excuse not to?".
Now Lady Bracknell is allowing her intolerance to show: this is another symptom of severely-reduced stamina levels. It is not one which is likely to help her win friends and influence people, and it is one over which she fervently wishes that she could exert greater control.
Whilst speaking to Mr Larkin yesterday, the conversation took a turn which encouraged the Editor to bemoan her lack of stamina and general feebleness to him. Lady Bracknell suspects this may have occasioned one of Mr Larkin's now-legendary deep sighs. Rising to the challenge, however, he ventured to posit an entirely new (to the Editor and her employer, at least) point of view on the issue.
In Mr Larkin's considered opinion, the Editor's reserves of stamina are by no means low. On the contrary, he believes them to be remarkably high. The unfortunate fact with which she, and those she loves, must come to terms is that, unlike her non-disabled peers, she has very little choice** on the matter of how they are to be expended.
On those few occasions when he has himself experienced severe pain, Mr Larkin says that he has been astonished at just how much energy he has needed to devote to
a) coping with that pain; and
b) maintaining a demeanour sufficiently affable to meet even the most basic requirements of his professional position.
The whole experience, he says, is exhausting beyond belief; and he has the greatest respect for the Editor's resilience in endeavouring to remain generally cheerful whilst experiencing constant, unremitting pain. What surprises Mr Larkin, he says, is not that the Editor is sometimes irritable and intolerant, but that she is not irritable and intolerant more often.
Having believed themselves to be almost wholly devoid of stamina for many years, both the Editor (and Lady Bracknell, once the import of the conversation had been relayed to her) find themselves enormously heartened by Mr Larkin's (to them) entirely novel take on the subject. Having had time to get over the inexcusable smugness engendered by his words, Lady Bracknell felt it would be a kindness to those of her readers who are themselves in chronic pain to promulgate Mr Larkin's theory further in the pages of her humble blog.
*Speaking of ouchy crips, Lady Bracknell wishes to take the opportunity to reassure the readers of his blog that Young Master Marmite has not expired from blood poisoning following his latest "ink". Being, in his own words, particularly "sore" at the moment, he has been signed off work by his doctor for a while. His expenditure on CDs and fashionable footwear having, as usual, outstripped his purse, he has yet to invest in a functioning keyboard for his home computer. Or, indeed, a functioning home computer. Unless he can limp out to his local library, therefore, he will be unable to update his blog until such time as he is fit to return to work. He sends his best to the blogosphere.
** Dude, the chauffer, has his own view on the issue of choice. In a recent conversation with the Editor, he opined that she does have the choice to resume her regular attendance at the theatre. It is just that the consequences of that choice would be that she would no longer be able to hold down full-time employment. The Editor muttered something in response to the effect that that, then, is the choice which is no choice. But she is prepared to admit that there is something to what the Dude says.