Annual review 2009

I usually do a bit of a round-up around this time of the year - a look back at another year of freelancing and what happened industry-wise over the preceding 12 months and any impact it had on me as both an individual and one of the many in my sector. Except when I look back at 2008's December posts, the round-up is missing. I know why, of course. 2008 was a bad year for me. Not workwise, but certainly on a personal level. I just didn't want to put all that in a review post, especially as some of what happened in the final quarter was immensely difficult and too personal to write about.

So where am I now?

I'm literally physically elsewhere, from choice. Making the decision to move to the city I'd originally intended to move to 6 years ago was right in every way. Workwise, it's opened up huge opportunities for me, not just in terms of actual work offered to me but the less quantifiable aspects - the contacts I've made, both social and strictly work, the conversations that sparked ideas, the events I've been able to attend that would have been physically impossible previously... all of which have had a huge impact on my future planning. I managed to get myself banned from a networking event I attended for the first time - simply because I was asked for feedback and was critical. I was gobsmacked at the pettiness, but don't feel I've missed out as the networking I've done at practically everywhere else in this amazing city has been so valuable in so many ways. I also never expected to end 2009 planning a new business venture with a freelance colleague or attending a training course that has led to me spending the first quarter of next year returning to a staff position and which may lead on to who knows what else. I feel I'm standing on the brink of something exciting and important and as yet unknown.

Financially, 2009 was ropey for me - as it was for many freelance colleagues. During the first quarter I earned almost nothing because I was busy writing the book and not in a position to take on other work. After I'd delivered the manuscript, work was very erratic. Looking back, I can see I did much less pure journalism than was desirable. This was partly due to my regular markets shrinking - there's not much point in pitching to eds who you know no longer have a freelance budget. It was also partly down to taking on whatever work was going, just to pay the bills - I ended up doing a lot of book editing and copywriting, which led in turn to having less time to drum up ideas for pitches, which I might not have been able to sell anyway.

I dumped a major client, the one that covered all my monthly bills for minimal effort, which was heartbreaking but had to be done because it had become unsustainable in other ways. I took me a while to find a replacement on that level, but in the early autumn I landed another regular who pays well and on time, and covers my outgoings for just a couple of days' work a month. One of my other regulars still owes me money from the first quarter and is teetering on the brink of bankruptcy. Somehow, I'll be amazed if I'm still writing for them in 3 months' time.

On an industry level, it was a bad year. If 2008 was grim, seeing thousands of staffers lose jobs, then this year was worse in many respects. It started off ok, as the staff redundancies meant there was still work going for freelances to fill all those pages. Then stage 2 of the downturn kicked in - advertising tailed off, leading to slashed freelance budgets and many publications closing. There seems to be a slight upturn now as the number of advertised staff vacancies is showing a modest improvement, but it'll be at least another 12 months I reckon before that translates into the return of freelance opportunities. There's been much industry talk in the last few months about how the future for journalism will focus on branded individuals. I've definitely used the downtime in 2009 to brand and market myself on Twitter, Facebook and the like, which I hope will pay off in work offered next year.

To my great shame, my blogging rate is way down this year - a measly 46 posts including this one. Compare that to 2007's 126 posts and last year's whopping total of 149. And on the other blog, I managed a feeble 17...

So, to the personal. Looking back, I'm quite stunned at how much I've blogged about my disability this year. I know that initially, way back when, I felt very strongly that I'd not let my health issues get in the way of work, or even be a point of discussion - I think I wanted to prove that the epilepsy was irrelevant to my ability to do the job. And so it was, in many ways. Except that only a few weeks ago, I actually admitted to my course trainer that it has hampered my career over the last few years in the sense that there were many jobs I didn't bother to even enquire about let alone chase because I knew it would be pointless. It's a key reason why I stayed freelancing, which is easier than answering awkward health questions and knowing that HR is lying when they tell you why they gave the the job to someone else. Although freelancing means I can cut out much of the stress - commuting, working with others, etc - that could have a negative impact on my seizures. And yet I had more seizures this year than at any time since I was diagnosed in 1997. My diary tells its own tale and so does this blog - living alone for the first time since diagnosis has forced me to face many fears, practical issues and my own mortality. I still feel vulnerable and I don't like it. Only today, colleagues were asking the "where do you see yourself in 5 years' time?" question and all I could see was me either in A&E (or the dentist) getting patched up, or dead, and all the fear came straight back up like I'd eaten a supersized portion of salmonella. 2009 has definitely been the year in which I can't run or hide from the impact of a long-term disability any more, while 2010 is going to be the year in which I know I'll have to look at long-term workarounds and make some big decisions.

As for the other personal stuff, there's been a relationship or two but nothing serious. As the year draws to a close, there are two very interesting men in my life - who knows what will happen? One is another hack, which has led to some interesting situations. I've not dated a colleague for a very long time - the last time, I swore off it as it became rather competitive on the work front even though we worked for different employers in different sectors. I guess the fear about being scooped is hard to shake off! But maybe not this time. We shall see. The other is as far removed from my industry as you could get, which is equally unsettling in some respects. I know how I'd like things to pan out - let's see in the 2010 review if I get what I wish for.

I end the year editing someone's book and looking forward to a few socials for local journalists (I've already done the London rounds). As usual, I'll be working over Xmas. I also close 2009 pondering the possibilities and practicalities of writing another book - a chance discussion with a colleague resulted in the vague idea of writing said tome together. I've no idea if it'll happen or not but I'm keen if they are. But first, there's the small matter of the tiny temp contract at the major meeja organisation to complete...

BADD08-09 - a snapshot of changes

I know I said recently that I wasn't going to keep blogging about my disability issues on what is, after all, a work blog, but it's Blogging Against Disablism Day and so, in what I promise will be my last blog on this for a while, unless strictly necessary, I want to look back at how things have changed for me since BADD08.

Healthwise, things have changed little. My seizure frequency remains more or less unchanged. I'm still on the same meds, at the same dose, and have a very good trade-off between stability and quality of life. No complaints there, then.

What did change for me was that very shortly after BADD08, my personal life underwent a big change - I became single again. That might not sound like a big deal to most people (setting aside the emotional upheaval a split always brings in its wake) but it has massive implications when you've been used to having someone around to be a carer, pick up the pieces after a crap day, ferry you to medical appointments because you can't drive yourself there, and so on.

I was partnered up when diagnosed more than a decade ago and then, when that relationship ended, moved almost seamlessly into my next relationship (purely by happy accident). For 12 years, there was someone by my side to tuck me up in bed after a seizure, fight my corner with the medical establishment when needed, and basically help me manage my life so I could continue to live as independently as possible.

Moving out to live on my own has reminded me how vulnerable I am, actually. I'm fortunate that the tiny handful of tonic-clonics I've had over the last year have not left me in urgent need of hospital treatment. But if I had, who would have called the paramedics? The last couple of simple partials I had left me very emotional afterwards - weepy and edgy, more so than when I was coupled up.

I've always been fiercely independent and am relishing being single again in many ways, but it's also made me aware that my need for independence mostly overrides my ability to ask for help. I had a tonic-clonic just days ago that took me 3 whole days to recover from. While friends both near and far were quick to text, tweet, ring and email to check on me once they heard, not once did I feel able to ask any of my friends or family who live near to me for assistance, even though for those 3 days I barely ate, could barely drag myself out of bed, was too frightened to attempt a shower as I felt very unsteady on my feet and cried a lot.

From a work point of view, that was also 3 days I didn't earn any money and, when you're single and self-employed, no one's going to pay the bills for you.

Ironically, that seizure was triggered by stress caused by my frustration with my publisher, for whom I've written a book on - epilepsy!

So, for me, the last 12 months have been very much about learning not so much how to live alone but how to cope alone, and making the necessary adjustments to my daily life to keep myself as safe as possible while staying independent. I guess I still need to learn how to ask for help when I need it. Ask me again in 12 months how far I got with achieving that particular hurdle...

Healing

...or at least starting to.

I don't think I could have gone any lower yesterday. My body was just shutting down. By noon, I'd lost count of the number of times I'd burst into tears and I felt shattered, I went back to bed, and managed to sleep for 3 hours. When I got up, I sat at the PC but nothing on the screen made any sense and I abandoned any pretence at doing work.

I managed 6 hours' sleep last night and then I went back to bed at 9am and slept another 2 hours, then about an hour later I went back to bed and slept another 4. After 2 months of chronic insomnia, I'm craving the sleep I've missed out on. Needless to say, I've not done any work today. I can't face it. I feel really guilty as a PR friend is helping push the book, but I've not done any of the things she asked me to yet. I've lost interest, but I know it's just my brain protecting me after weeks with inadequate sleep.

I had a long chat with a hack friend on the phone last night. My fear is that my exhaustion will trigger the Big One (by which I mean a tonic-clonic seizure) - I've not had one for a while and the tiredness could well be the catalyst. The amount I've slept today is staggering but clearly I need it. I'm going to try to work tomorrow - at least the most urgent stuff.

Edited to add: after all that, I had the Big One anyway, and it took me 2 days to realise it (this is not unusual, and I'm not talking about me personally). The signs were all there - banging headache that painkillers had no effect on, muscles so painful and stiff I felt like I'd been trampled by a horse, the urge to sleep, sleep, sleep. I'm not sure when - either Monday night or (more likely) during my Tuesday nap. I'm as sure as I can be that it was during my sleep otherwise I'd have at least some recollection of waking up on the floor somewhere. It only dawned on me late yesterday afternoon that I must have had a seizure. Not my worst, but I could do without it right now.

Some perspective

Edwyn Collins is an inspiration, and that's official.

I saw him on stage years ago in Scotland, playing with the as-yet unsigned Orange Juice. I've almost certainly got some of his early singles stashed away somewhere. And I remember when news broke of his brain haemorrhage a few years ago, followed by a second one.

He's spent the last four years learning how to speak again and how to walk again, he's lost the use of his right arm and hand but has taught himself to draw and paint with his left hand instead. And he's started gigging again.

There's a great blog on the BBC website about his struggle to pick up his life again since 2005. It certainly puts my own health issues into perspective and I feel slightly ashamed that I've whinged a bit here and elsewhere over the last few days. I'm truly grateful that I can work fulltime, apart from the occasional bad day. I really am going to try and remind myself that however difficult things get, others, like Edwyn, are dealing with much greater difficulties.

Ok, I'll shut up now.

More on work and disability

I try not to blog too much about my epilepsy because, to be fair, 99% of the time I manage fine. My seizures are generally few and far between, I can hold down full-time work and lead a fairly normal life, and self-employment gives me the flexibility I need to live with and manage this condition.

A few things happened today, though, that are worth noting. One thing that made me howl out loud with laughter this afternoon was discovering I'm being followed on Twitter by a PR for a major car manufacturer. I've not driven for around 20 years and, just at the time I was seriously considering resuming driving - in 1997 - I was diagnosed with epilepsy and kissed goodbye to my licence, probably forever now, being realistic. The other touch of irony is that I worked on a car magazine for 18 months at the start of the 90s.

Still on the PR theme, I received a press release from nPower today, bragging about their support for disabled sports. This is the same nPower that supplies my utilities and ignored 4 requests by me to change the card prepayment meters in my home for regular credit meters. Each time I asked, I explained patiently that swapping the meters was urgent because of the risk of being left without credit on the meters if I had a seizure. Each time, nothing was done, even though nPower operates a disability scheme called Warm Response (oh, the irony!). None of the provisions under Warm Response are actually any use to me as I don't need Braille bills, someone to read my meter or any of the other services offered to the disabled. The one thing I wanted took 2 complaints (one formal and very high up) to have it executed (on the plus side, I've been offered financial compensation). I shouldn't be too pissed off at nPower's lip service - it's only one of many companies that bungs a few quid at the less fortunate because the PR it brings them is more valuable. I'd just like to see a competent service delivered.

I have insomnia too, have done for many years, on and off - prolonged lack of sleep can sometimes be a cue for a seizure. I've had two simple partials in the last few weeks - that's too close together for my liking, but probably linked to me being slack about going to bed at a sensible time most nights and making sure I stick to a proper sleep routine. Worryingly today, I had a myoclonic jerk while out and about this afternoon. It was sharp enough to make me stumble and twist my ankle (and swear very loudly). I get the occasional myoclonic jerk either as I drop off to sleep, or during it. That was my first while awake. Now it might be nothing but I'm painfully aware that, having moved, I'm not currently on any consultant's list and it's reminded me again I need to see a neurologist for a fresh check-up. Annoyingly, it'll take me up to 2 weeks to get a non-urgent appointment to see my GP and goodness knows how long to get a referral. NICE guidelines say epilepsy patients should get a referral within 2 weeks but that only applies to new patients.

Where is all this leading? I have a nagging fear at the back of my mind. I'm painfully aware that epilepsy has already had some small damaging effect on the bit of my brain responsible for speech and vocabulary. Some years ago, I "lost" a handful of words and phrases forever. I want them and they are on the tip of my tongue but I can never grasp them or remember them. I sometimes lose my ability to speak during a partial seizure. That's not scary for me, just annoying that I can't briefly communicate.

Of far greater concern is my growing realisation that I am increasingly making errors in my work. I've always made typos - now I find it harder to spot them (I can still spot other people's at 100 metres). Sometimes after blogging, it'll take me 3 or 4 readbacks after publishing to see and correct my mistakes. Worse, I often forget to type a word - on readback, it's clear a word's been omitted. I see it in my tweets and forum posts and it's embarrassing. Or my mind will be telling me to type one word but I'll actually have typed something completely different It's not affecting my copy-editing work, but I'm having to triple and quadruple check all my written work now before filing. I have become heavily reliant on the spellchecker in a way that would have been unthinkable 5 years ago. As a professional wordsmith, it's devastating on many levels. As I get older, I wonder how long I'll be able to keep working. This has been my life for 30 years. I know nothing else, can do nothing else and don't want to do anything else. With staff jobs disappearing, that's not an option, although I suspect that even if I wanted to return to being an employee (which I don't), many companies simply wouldn't take me on because it would mean having to deal with my health issues.

So I guess I'm going to muddle on for the next 10 years or so and see what happens. I'm trying not to think about it too much, while knowing that I have to start thinking about it.

A lost day, or not fit to work

I skived off from work for a couple of days last week.

Thursday I just wasn't in the mood for work, so I pottered around the house instead and surfed the net, and just generally lazed. I did use some of the time productively, to berate my utilities company for not changing my meters - the previous tenants were on prepayment card meters, no use to me as I have epilepsy, and if I have a seizure then the credit runs out, I'll be cut off for hours before I'm well enough to go to the shop to buy a top-up for the gas or leccy. If the gas goes, I'll have no heating or hot water. If the electricity runs out, it's even worse, as the boiler needs electricity to power it, so I'd be left without heating, hot water and power. I've asked the utility company 8 times this year to change the meters, and told them 4 times I have a disability. Each time, I was told that as I'm disabled, special provision could be made. Unfortunately, the utility company still didn't bother to record my request for a meter change, or the fact that I'm disabled. My berating did produce a result - a date for the meter change - so I felt a bit better about skiving.

On Friday, I caught up with an email backlog, then lunched with a bunch of digerati colleagues and friends in town. A quick dash home for 2 hours to sift through more mail and the news, then I was off again to an NUJ meeting and I didn't get home till late.

So on Sunday, I settled at the PC with the aim of catching up on some of the work backlog. I managed to get several hours of solid copy-editing work done and was nearly at the end when I suddenly "weirded out". This is how I describe having a simple partial seizure. Not everyone's simple partial is the same. Mine generally involve feeling weird (and I really can't get more specific than that), with a horrible rushing sensation. I did what I always do - lie on the floor.

I do this for 2 reasons. 1) it's better than being at the desk in case it turns into a full-blown seizure and I come round to find QWERTYUIOP imprinted backwards on my forehead. Admittedly, this would be very rare for me, but why take the risk? 2) I usually throw up after a seizure and I definitely do not want to puke on my keyboard. Have you ever tried to clean vomit off one of the most complex components of a PC?

The SP lasted about 90 seconds. So far it's cost me 24 hours of my life.

I stayed on the floor for a good 10 minutes after the weirdness subsided. Then I tentatively got up and sat back at the computer. I abandoned work as my brain was too scrambled, but pottered on Twitter while waiting to see if I might still throw up, as I felt horribly nauseous. In the end, I wasn't sick, but I ate nothing for supper and I was so tired I went to bed at 9pm.

I managed 9 hours' sleep, but it was a restless 9 hours, with plenty of wakings, flinging the duvet off and on, and struggling to get comfortable. So I awoke this morning feeling a bit groggy.

- never mind, I thought, I'll be fine once I've had a cuppa and woken up a bit.

Ha ha! I spoke too soon. I felt even more exhausted as the day unfolded. Vague plans for a nap had to be abandoned as my desk editor sent back urgent chapter amends for the book I'm working on.

90 seconds - the only difference between a simple partial and a tonic-clonic seizure is that the former doesn't usually give you a post-ictal headache. But you still lose a whole day of your life recovering...

Another early night beckons.

Busy bee

Somehow I managed to finish the book proposal today. I drafted the bulk of it on Sunday and then wrote a draft introduction today of around 1,000 words. I'm quite pleased with what I've submitted and I'm confident it will pass muster with the publisher. They've already acknowledged receipt and said I will hear next week if I get the contract. Fingers crossed.

In between I've crammed in no less than 3 medical appointments - 2 check-ups and my flu jab. I also wasted 30 minutes waiting around in the pharmacy to pick up my prescriptions, only to be told there is a supply problem for my epilepsy medication. Great. Now I have to go to another chemist tomorrow to collect half my tablets. The rest I can't get at all. I feel a rant coming on - time to pick up the phone and berate Big Pharma for putting me at risk of seizures if I can't get my meds...

I got a commission from a national newspaper yesterday so this afternoon and this evening has been spent researching and interviewing. My deadline is lunchtime tomorrow, giving me not a huge amount of time to pull it all together and write it up. Except I have to use that time to chase my meds at the other chemist as they will only hold the tablets until lunchtime. I sense a major conflict of interests approaching and probably a headache too.

The afternoon will be filled seeing my GP, again. And queuing at the hospital for routine yearly blood tests. I lead such an exciting life...

Woefully neglected

No, not me (although I could argue a case!) but this blog. I've had one of those weeks where I've been running around like a headless chicken.

I've finally signed off two writing projects, which means (I hope) that I can start preparing my book proposal for the publisher tomorrow. And also start the long task of cutting a client's book manuscript in half and knocking it into shape so they can present something usable to the agent and hopefully get a publishing deal.

I spent a large chunk of yesterday learning basic belly dancing steps. I should point out that this was in the name of journalism and bloody hell, but my back and abdominal muscles aren't half making their presence felt today.

It's also been a week of visits. A copywriter colleague dropped in for coffee earlier in the week and we had an enjoyable chinwag for an hour or so over chocolate macaroons. If things go according to plan, we may be working together before too long. Tomorrow, the last remaining parent drops by, the one I haven't seen for 13 months and with whom I have had only sporadic telephone contact in that period. Fortunately for both of us the royal visit is likely to last only an hour and may inspire me to pitch the event to a paper somewhere (although knowing my luck, said pitch would fall into the same black hole as all the recent others).

At least my mate C is arriving tomorrow to erase all memory of the parental drive-by. It's been a while since I last saw C, who is a high-flying scientist doing amazing things in a lab somewhere at the other end of the country. She'll be here for 24 hours and what we have in common (apart from being gorgeous and talented) is epilepsy. So my town can expect to see two pissed-up spazzers out on the razz tomorrow night, followed by the pair of us crawling around in dark glasses on Saturday as I attempt to show C the sights while we fight off our hangovers...

A book and a video

I may be about to land a book-writing contract.

{jumps up and down and makes funny whoop-whoop noises}

A lovely hack colleague of mine suggested me to her publisher last week as a potential author for a practical handbook on living with epilepsy. I quickly fired off some emails - one to the publisher to establish initial contact, one to a hack pal who is also a published author and very generous in helping other writers put together credible book proposals - I asked her for a copy of her fabled how-to-do-it guide.

On Monday, the publisher emailed back and invited me to call her for a chat. I did so this morning, having read through her company's general briefing for pitching to write a title for them. We had a very useful discussion and the upshot is I've been asked to put together a proposal within the next fortnight. She seemed very keen to have me on board, as I'd be writing very much from an inside point of view. Fingers crossed, I'll get the contract.

It's not going to make my fortune, that is clear, but it'll be good to have a book on the old CV and boost my profile. And I know I will enjoy writing it.

In other news, yet another hack pal has been busy creating. Cast your mind back a couple of months to our dear food critic Giles Coren and his little tantrum towards the subs at The Times. Naturally, an outburst like that doesn't get forgotten quickly and the hackosphere is still chattering about it. Enter my pal Shandypockets who, while ill in bed the other day, put a video together for our amusement.

The clip is from a 2004 movie called Der Untergang (The Downfall). The subtitles, however, belong solely to Shandypockets.

Enjoy!

Fit to work*

According to all kinds of official measurements, I'm disabled. I have had epilepsy since 1996 (officially diagnosed in 1997 after a battery of EEG tests). My epilepsy entitles me to a Disabled Railcard, a concessionary bus pass, free prescriptions, Disability Living Allowance and various other things.

And yet I don't feel disabled. I have roughly 2 seizures a year, which is not a lot, although they are full-blown ones and 2 minutes thrashing around on the floor can effectively take 24 hours out of my life as I recover. The problem is I never know when one will strike as I don't get "warnings", which means that technically I'm at risk every minute of the day - I could drown in the shower, collapse while crossing a road or die from SUDEP. So far I've been lucky - almost all my seizures have taken place within the home and I have rarely injured myself. I do take care to reduce risks, especially when out and about, but I don't wrap myself in cotton wool. I just get on with life. If I have a seizure, so be it.

I'm relieved developing epilepsy has not affected my ability to work, apart from the occasional speech problems due to loss of vocabulary (the part of my brain where my seizures start controls this skill), which is a pain in my line of work. It's caused the odd hiccup when interviewing people on making phone calls. Otherwise, it's business as usual. Freelancing gives me extra freedom because of the epilepsy - I don't have a stressful commute, I can rearrange things if a seizure strikes and I don't have to plead for time off for medical check-ups. Having control over how I work matters because I'd be lost without work. I've always worked and been independent - not being able to work would mean a major reassessment of who I am.

Who I am is still me, plus epilepsy. I don't hide my condition and I don't get offended overly much if people make jokes about fits (although people being PC and saying "thought shower" instead of "brainstorm" does offend me). I don't care about being judged either.

Where do I fit in on the great scale of disability? Somewhere fairly insignificant, I expect. I suspect that because I don't see myself as disabled, others don't either. My disability is not obvious, I'm not a wheelchair-user. Occasionally I get asked why I have a concessionary bus pass because I don't "look" disabled. Er, it's because I'm not allowed to drive, that's why. In fact, the biggest hassle is people finding out I'm not allowed to drive and assuming I must have been nicked for drink-driving. So now I'm in the habit of tacking "for medical reasons" on to the end of that particular sentence.

Interestingly, over the last couple of years I have been stunned to discover just how many of my freelance colleagues working in journalism and editing also have disabilities. Freelancing is clearly an attractive option when you have health and mobility issues to take into account.


* This is a "Blogging Against Disablism Day 2008" post. Read more here.

4.0 on the Richter scale with a 6.0 aftershock

Not 24 hours after the earthquake shook the UK (but not here - we slept through it), my brain decided to have its own cataclysm. As seizures go, it wasn't too bad. I've had worse. I think - but I'm not entirely sure - that I was in bed at the time. I just don't know as my memory of everything between 9.05pm on Wednesday evening and 6.00am on Thursday morning is wiped.

Regular readers will know I have epilepsy. I've always been upfront about it, my attitude being if you can't handle it that's your problem, not mine. Officially, I'm disabled, although I don't feel so. I lead a fairly normal life. The tag "disabled" becomes useful at times, as I'm entitled to certain benefits that help me manage my condition.

Today, however, I was twice made to feel uncomfortable about my seizures, for perhaps the first time ever. Yesterday, when I woke up feeling like I'd been flattened by a Scorpion Mark 3 tank then run over backwards by a JCB after being whacked on the head by a sledgehammer, it soon became clear I was not going to be able to work. So at 8am I rang my corporate client and explained that I wouldn't be able to do an interview planned for 9am. Then I crawled back to bed and slept for a good 6 hours.

Surfacing mid-afternoon, I chatted to my client and naturally she was curious about my epilepsy. It was only after I'd chatted quite freely about it and we'd moved on to rescheduling the interview that I learned that she was, in fact, on speakerphone and her director had heard everything.

I could have shrugged that off, except that on phoning the interviewee at 9am this morning, I was somewhat disturbed when he said:
- I hear you had an incident yesterday.
- I was taken unwell, I replied, and unable to work yesterday. Inside I was seething that my client had passed on personal information that was of no professional interest whatsoever, and in fact was not theirs to pass on. And there was something about the word "incident" and the accompanying tone that really upset me because I felt for the first time I was being judged for something beyond my control.

Epilepsy doesn't affect how I do my job, except maybe 2 days a year that I'm indisposed in the aftermath of a seizure. Plenty of wage slaves take far more sickies than I do for colds.

My day was not going to get better, though. At the bank later in the morning, my business banking manager had the temerity to ask me:
- how long have you suffered from that, then?
- I don't suffer from it, I replied through gritted teeth. (Only when you make patronising assumptions.)

I took revenge when he tried to flog me a pension I don't want, by telling him there was not much point in buying it when I might drop dead from SUDEP tomorrow.. the flush on his face was priceless.

Media diet week 8

Press: my copy of Press Gazette arrived on time yesterday, thank gawd. Last week's issue still hadn't arrived by Monday so I had to phone PG to request another and of course they were out of stock. I've been promised a back issue though, so I can't wait to catch up on out-of-date news. Not yet had time to do more than glance at this week's, though. My favourite story this week was run in the Guardian, a hilarious and true story of a Turkmen TV station and a humble cockroach. Obviously, it's not funny for the poor 30 hacks and editors and other staff who were sacked as a result of the starring début of an insect. But really, you couldn't make it up...

Blogs: the main blog story this week has been the sorry tale of Max Gogarty's travel blog in the Guardian, which I refrained from commenting on at the time as the rest of the world was busy doing so. (Just google Max Gogarty for the whole story if you're desperate to know what I'm wittering on about.) Suffice to say that Charles Arthur, tech editor at the Guardian, has pretty much summed up my views on the matter. I'd only add to his remark about the Guardian's "duty of care" in that Gogarty should have been warned before publication that blog comments can be brutal. Announcing a duty of care after the event is lax, to say the least. It was still a crap piece of writing, though, and one that has damaged the Guardian's strong brand.

TV/radio: call me easily amused but I love Hotel Babylon, so I was glued to the screen when series 3 kicked off on Tuesday. I know it's escapist nonsense, but at the end of a hard day, sinking onto the sofa with a glass of wine and an episode of trash tv can sometimes be just the ticket. And Torchwood's still on, too - this week's episode had a shock ending that left me open-mouthed. I'll say no more, in deference to fans who have yet to see it.

Books: I ordered a huge stack of stuff from Amazon last week and it's all arrived. I now have 3 crime novels to devour (including one I bought on a whim as it's set in Cheshire), a book that used to be a blog (more on this when I read it, and yes I still live in hope that some kind publisher out there will offer me a deal for this wretched blog, not that it'll enable me to retire) and John Barrowman's autobiography. And while we're on the subject, is it me or are we seeing the start of the Barrowman backlash in the tabloids? The Sun's run two stories in two days - one on him kicking shit into a theatre audience and one on him exposing himself. Shurely shome mishtake? I'm currently racing through Ray Robinson's Electricity, which is brilliant. The anti-heroine has epilepsy, but it's incidental to the plot and while it's not "my" epilepsy, it's a damn accurate portrayal of life when your brain short-circuits...

Making up lost time

On Monday morning, I did the usual - I wrote a list of every job to be done this week. Several editing jobs, a couple of pitches to chase and a lengthy article to write after interviewing the author (I was ghostwriting). I like to keep track of what's going in and out.

I kicked off the morning with some paperwork and pottering then wandered through to the front room at around 11am for a break. My beloved P is home all week, using up leave, so I popped my head around the door for a quick chat. The next thing I knew, I was picking carpet fluff out of my teeth.

I'd had a, for me, quite lengthy epileptic seizure and was aggressive as well as exhausted when I came round. I remembered the interview scheduled for that afternoon, knew I was in no fit state (pun not intended) to conduct it and staggered off to bed, leaving poor P to call my editor and rearrange it.

I've been playing catch-up the last two days and somehow, miraculously, have managed to get back to where I should be by Wednesday evening, despite losing almost all of Monday and not being in really great shape yesterday. I did the interview yesterday morning and saved myself half a day by paying an audio typist £50 to transcribe it for me so all I need to do tomorrow is knock it into shape.

At the end of the week, I shall still be busy but on Friday afternoon my time will be taken up with a trip to see Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix at the cinema. In the meantime, I'm on page 400 of the book. Which ain't bad considering I only got the book on Sunday afternoon and have had piles of work and a seizure in between...

A very good cause

If you're a regular reader, you probably know I have epilepsy. Although I have the most severe kind of seizures, where I fall unconscious, writhe on the floor and froth at the mouth, I am fortunate that this only happens to me 2, maybe 3 times a year. I take medication that mostly keeps those annoying "brain storms" well under control, enabling me to carry on leading a full life and working my socks off as a freelance wordsmith.

Others in my position are not so lucky. Around 1000 people in the UK die every year as a result of epilepsy. That's 3 a day. It might not sound much but it's more than the total number of UK deaths from Aids and cot deaths combined. And around 400 of those deaths are preventable.

The son of one of my fellow journalists lost a friend of his not long ago. Laura Turner was just 14 when she passed away in January 2005 from SUDEP (sudden unexpected death in epilepsy). Stuart Lawrence is paying tribute to Laura by organising a benefit gig in her name to raise much-needed funds for the charity Epilepsy Bereaved.

Stuart is just 16 and is to be admired for organising the concert. It will take place in Guildford at the Electric Theatre on Wednesday 29 August. Tickets cost £8 and 4 bands are playing (Used Inc., Detached, Last Remaining Monkey and Underdog Victory).

If you've read this far and you live in Guildford, please support this very worthy cause. You'll be making the 450,000 people in the UK who have epilepsy very happy and you'll be providing some comfort to Laura's parents, who will be glad their daughter did not die in vain.

If you;re still reading and can't get to the gig, please spread the word - go and blog about it, write a news story if you're in a position to, tell your friends on Facebook, or whatever.

Just last week, my fellow hacks managed to raise more than 2 grand for Macmillan Cancer in honour of one of our own who died last year from that horrible disease. I'd like to think that if you help spread the word on this gig, Stuart Lawrence can perhaps raise even more in memory of Laura Turner.

Thank you.

Fried brains

Sadly, not a reference to one of Hannibal Lecter's more disgusting recipes.

I've had one of those days.

I was up and about bright and early this morning, and by 9.45am I had sifted through a fair bit of e-mail, surfed the net, done a couple of sudoku puzzles, drunk a pot of tea and sorted some paperwork on my desk. So I headed out the door for a meeting with my lovely graphic designer and our mutual client. He looked rather startled when I knocked on the door and walked into his office. Unsurprisingly, as our meeting is for 10.00am tomorrow... I had one of those "duh!" moments and scrambled around in my handbag for my diary. Sure enough, he was right. It's tomorrow. I stopped for a very quick chat then made a hasty and embarrassed exit, as he was expecting someone at 10.00. Just not me.

I can only put the absentmindedness down to my episode on Monday.

Reader, I have epilepsy. According to the law, it's a disability. But I don't see it as one. I was diagnosed in my mid-30s, some 9 years ago and it's never been a major problem for me. I was very well controlled on medication until just over 2 years ago, when a blow to my head retriggered my seizures. Now I get one or two a year. It's no big deal. The biggest disability is the loss of my driving licence. To be fair, I don't really need it, living where I do, but it would be nice to get it back one day. The trouble is, you have to be seizure-free for 12 months and I never quite make it before a seizure decides to strike again and I start counting the days again.

I had seen my neurologist last week and everything was fine. No seizures since last November and we were hoping I'd make it to my next consultation in December without any more episodes and be able to reapply to the DVLA. Fat chance. On Monday, after I'd written my application letter to bag the prize of editing Skin Two magazine, I had a small seizure.

I say small - it's all relative. This one only lasted a few seconds but knocked me out for the rest of the day. I got no work done and couldn't even take a shower until my beloved P came home. I was even knackered watching the tennis on the tv. And I gouged a lovely tramline in my face while writhing on the floor. I shouldn't complain. I've rarely had even a semi-serious injury. The worst was a cracked rib and a dose of concussion one time. Although I did nearly burn the house down that time as I'd just lit the gas cooker...

But I digress. I've been feeling out of whack all week as a result of those few seconds disruption to my brain's normal electrical activity. It's no surprise I mixed up the meeting. I'm not normally so disorganised.

Back home, I had to rethink my plans for the day. I decided to price up the complicated editorial job on offer. I quickly realised I needed to ask some questions so I fired off an e-mail to the person who is commissioning the work. While I was waiting for her to respond, I bit the bullet.

Yes, it was time to close my accounts for tax year 2005/2006. I've been putting it off for ages, but I had promised my accountant I would do it this month. And as the rest of June is likely to be taken up with editing financial books and watching Wimbledon, it really had to be today.

Five hours later, I was finished. I logged out of Sage with a sense of accomplishment and a feeling that I may have just fried my brains a little more. I'm a wordsmith, not a number-cruncher...