For the next eight months I have never suffered so much pain. The thought did pass through my mind that as I was still employed; I could take back my resignation then go on statutory sick pay for the next six months, that way I would at least have some extra money coming in while I was writing. You see I had decided that to be an author, you had to live as an author, in so much as I would spend all my time and energy, purely, and simply writing. I had some savings which would last one year and I could make major cut-backs in my life style (No more holidays abroad in the sun for two weeks), but somehow I knew the company I worked for would have me working from home just as franticly as normal. No, I decided to see out my time in agony as the last few weeks slowly and very painfully passed.
For anyone who has suffered terrible back pain you will know what hell it is. I have had problems with my back before and had the luxury in the past of being able to pay for Chiropractic care (why? O why? Can’t you get this branch of medical care on the N.H.S?) But this time every penny was now counted for as I planned to live a pauper’s life. After two weeks necking back a packet of Paracetamol and Ibrubafen a day plus using up three whole tube of pain relief gel, I finally admitted defeat and hobbled down to the Chiropractor. His prognoses was not good, he did tell me the technical term for what had happened to my back, but in basic English, something was bulging out of my spine which should not be bulging out and was pressing against my nerves. I was fucked.