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The End of Poverty
Dealing with Change
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I’ve recently started following another expat Kiwi in London’s blog and her post last night, entitled “deep breath“, struck a real chord with me. The situation, for me, is completely different but the sentiment expressed – that I might not be good enough – is something I well understand.
She writes:
“I have been playing chess with this fear for the best part of 30 years. And in a weird way I am thankful for it. It has pushed me forward and given me a defiant courage to do it all anyway. I have spent years living on my own, paying my own way, being responsible only for me. I have affirmed to myself every single day that all of these things are evidence of my independence, strength, capability. This is the me I promised myself I would be when I knew there was no going back. And while mostly serving me well, this self-suficiency has also created a dark and twisty me, the one that thinks letting go somehow equals weakness.
I want to keep growing, experiencing and metamorphosing. And this involves allowing myself to be still for a while, to be really here.”
I guess I’m re-posting this because I know that these are feelings many of us have over the course of our lifetimes and sharing in it sometimes, realising we’re not the only ones to feel like this, can be so incredibly helpful. I thoroughly recommend you read her entire post, from start to finish, if nothing else it is a lesson in honesty.

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Drinking water, eating vegetables and getting very bored
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Over a week ago, I blogged about my exciting adventure to A&E, followed by an appendectomy.
While things have greatly improved, there is still quite clearly a wound (as opposed to a nice neat scar) and it’s causing all sorts of fun. Today’s particular adventure involved conversations with nurses and doctors regarding why the wound appeared to have opened up a little in two places and, more worryingly, why green pus appeared to be oozing from said places. Delightful! I do hope you’re not reading this on a full stomach . . .
As I continue to rest (mostly) tucked up in bed, you would think I’d be blogging like crazy but in fact the very opposite is true. I watch tv. I read. I sleep. I drink water and eat vegetables (sometimes). I am incredibly bored but seem to be better at blogging when I am at last vaguely busy. My mind works better when there is more to think about than one thing at a time – a luxury I am “enjoying” at the moment.
But things are steadily improving, we hope, and I vainly hope I’ll be back at work next week for a couple of days before Tim and I head off to Santorini. Failing all else, surely some relaxing in the Greek Islands will do wonders.

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Conversations with the VPA
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So part of this blog is my attempt to document the whole VSO process from beginning to end. As such you are now about to be subjected to a short post of my first proper conversation with my volunteer placement advisor (VPA) at VSO.
It took so long for the two of us to be in the same country and therefore able to talk to each other that I was going to be damned if I let my recovery get in the way of the first real discussion about the lay of the land with placements and such and so it finally happened last Friday.
Much of it was an information-provision exercise on her part and for a lot of that I’d already gleaned what I needed to know from the scarily comprehensive handbook. She was, however, able to shed light on some very important things.
1) My CV and profile are on the big all-powerful VSO database
2) It’s hoped we’ll find a suitable placement in the participation and governance field for me in time for the September/October 09 leaving dates.
3) It is, however, possible I will not be leaving until February (that feels like a really LONG time away right now), should a placement not be found as quickly as hoped.
4) At this point, it is my job to sit tight and wait. I could be fundraising but I think that might be easier once I have a placement (any advice from current volunteers on that?).
All good stuff.
So as I sit and wait for a suitable placement summary, I shall entertain you with ramblings about UK politics and, of course, my exploits on the sunny Greek island of Santorini (Thira) in two weeks time for Tim’s birthday.

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Fi Minus An Appendix
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A week and a half ago I dashed (attempting to faint on the way as I walked myself there) to A&E with massive stomach cramps and this quite-literal gut-wrenching pain below my tummy button. I’d been in pain since 4:30am and had managed to convince myself to attempt to wait it out until about 7:30am when, after a quick conversation with the doctor-professional parental-unit, I walked the two blocks to UCL hospital. After 3 and a half hours I was sent home with pain meds after the docs were more than a little unsure about what the problem was and having actually fainted (luckily in the hospital).
The long and short of it is that I reappeared back in A&E that evening (thanks be to Tim for convincing me that giving the docs another go was a good plan) and after another agonising four hour wait was shifted into a ward to have blood tests, which were shortly (although I did get to sleep in between briefly) followed by the removal of my offending appendix and a general investigation and thorough cleaning of my insides. Delightful.
Somewhat understandably, I have spent the last week and a half off work with a dressing covering one side of my tummy. Rather than key hole surgery, they went for the long deep cut-her-in-half route and so the scar is already quite impressive. Bruising is incredible and my first attempt at changing the dressing involved me lying down for a long period of time to get over the shock and horror at how awful it looked.
I am, however, recovering and am more awake every day – that said I have slept most of the day. It’s been good weather for getting better in though, and now that the political situation here is really hotting up I’m quite enjoying having the time (and necessity) to not do much and read a lot.

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