I have always been reasonably observant and notice, among other things, those who write with their left hand and the differing ways in which they hold their pen. Writing of course may be a dying art and you may remember that some schools in Finland are experimenting with not teaching cursive script. Presumably this would mean that in future you would sign a document, say, with, er, a cross?! We are probably all becoming a little ambidextrous when it comes to more frequent use of a keyboard – exercising one’s digits and becoming able to enter data with either hand. Those of you who are left-handed when it comes to writing could tell me whether it makes any difference when you are using a keyboard?

Do you remember the successful 2011 film ‘One Day’ staring Anne Hathaway and Jim Sturgess? It was based on David Nicholls’ book which had come out a couple of years earlier. In February this year Netflix’s version was available, starring Ambika Mod, the actor who played the junior doctor in ‘This is Going to Hurt’, as Emma and Leo Woodall as Dex. Maybe I am being a bit nerdy here, but did you notice that both actors are left-handed?

As is one of the opticians in our local Boots, Emma.

“I hope you don’t mind but I notice you’re left handed; I am always interested to see how individuals hold their pen.”

She explained one thing I hadn’t realised, that if you use a fountain pen or felt tip, it’s possible the fleshy edge of your hand gets dirty from contact with the ink ….. as its direction of travel is over the still-drying ink. She held up her hand by way of confirmation!

Do right-handed people always answer a telephone with their right hand and left- handed with their left? I continue to be amazed that so often you see someone, a right-handed person, on TV only capable of using the telephone, placed on the right of the desk, with their right ear. If they want to jot down something, they transfer the phone to their left ear, almost strangling themselves in the process!  It’s actually the same for a cordless mobile; it’s much easier if you get into the habit of putting the phone to your left ear in the first place. (See PC 228 Thinking Out Loud April 2021.)

Driving on the left hand side of the road is something almost exclusively done by past members of the British Empire and now of The Commonwealth; for example Cyprus, New Zealand and Australia. The Republic of Eire, Ireland, drives on the left, reflecting its past linkage to England. Nigeria, a member of the Commonwealth but surrounded by countries that had been French colonies which drove on the right, changed from left to right in 1972. There was a rumour that certain car registration numbers would change one weekend, and the balance the following weekend; it was just a wind-up! India drives on the left, but not Pakistan, another Commonwealth country, even though they have a land border. Mind you if you have ever driven in rural India, you will have experienced both those who drive on the left and those who drive on the same road, on the right; very disconcerting!

I wondered why soldiers take the first step in a march with their left foot. Apparently it started in ancient Egypt; it’s the side of the body that your heart’s on and therefore your first step is taken with what your heart symbolises: “The heart, like the sun, is the central source of life, the seat of power, of courage and strength.” To avoid confusion, this is not the same as ‘by the right … quick march.’ The ‘right’ in this case refers to the side which is keeping the line; it could be ‘by the centre’ or even ‘by the left’.

Dressing ‘by the right’

I googled why we have ended up with left wing and right wing as definitions in our politics. We have the French to thank. At a pivotal point in the French Revolution in 1789, National Assembly members were asked to divide; those supporting the ‘Ancien Régime’ to line up to the right of the president and those supporters of the revolution to his left. Most democracies have examples of left-leaning liberal and conservative right-wing ideologies. On the extreme right of the political spectrum is Fascism, an authoritarian, ultra-nationalistic political ideology characterised by dictatorial leadership and suppression of an opposition.

Our brains are essentially two semi-hemispheres. The left is associated with logic, analytical thinking and language processing; ‘left-brained’ people pay attention to details and are ruled by logic. The right is linked with creativity, intuition and holistic thinking. ‘Right-brained’ people tend to do well in careers that involve creative expression and free-thinking, such as becoming an artist, psychologist or writer. Recent research suggests however that, whilst the two hemispheres function differently, they work together and compliment each other. Bundles of nerve fibres tie the two together creating some form of information highway!  

The words ‘left’ and ‘right’ are translated in Portuguese as ‘esquerda’ and ‘direita’, in German as ‘links’ and ‘rechts’, in Spanish as ‘izquierdo’ and ‘derecho’, in Italian as ‘sinistra’ and ‘destra’ and in French as ‘gauche’ and ‘droite’. I love the way that ‘left’ in Italian sounds like ‘sinister’ in English and the unintended connection to left-wing politics. In French the word for ‘left’ has another meaning, one who’s clumsy and awkward. It could be that left-handed people might appear awkward trying to manager in a mostly right-handed world or perhaps because right-handed people appear awkward when trying to use their left hand. Anyway, it’s a nice word to describe someone who’s unsophisticated and socially awkward: “a shy and gauche teenager.”

In the western world we probably forget that traditionally Arabs eat and drink with their right hand, as it’s believed that the devil would eat with his left. If you are left handed, you need to learn to use your right for eating and for handshakes. And the left hand is exclusively used for wiping your ……

Right?

Richard 29^th March 2024
Hove

http://www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

Those of us of a certain age will have heard of Arthur Conan Doyle’s fictional character Sherlock Holmes and his sidekick Dr Watson, who first appeared in his novel ‘A Study in Scarlet’ in 1887. He went on to write four books and 56 short stories about the two crime fighters, with worldwide success. Tourists still come to London to visit 221b Baker Street, the site of the office where they worked and now the sight of The Sherlock Holmes Museum. I am not sure I ever read any of the books but by a process of osmosis know that the series ended with Sherlock Holmes’ death near, I think, near some cataract in, er, Switzerland? Google provided me with confirmation, which I paraphrase:  

“Sherlock Holmes’ constant foe is a Professor Moriarty, a successful criminal mastermind. In the final drama, Holmes, ignoring the fact that Moriarty has vowed to kill him, delivers appropriate evidence to the police, so Moriarty and those who operate his network will face justice in a few days. Holmes flees to Switzerland and Watson joins him. Moriarty follows and confronts Holmes at the top of a cataract known as the Reichenbach Falls. After some vicious hand-to-hand combat occurring at the cliff edge near the waterfall, both men fall to their deaths.

“Cataract n. 1. Waterfall, especially large precipitous fall or series of falls. 2. Progressive opacity of lens of eye which impairs one’s vision and, if left untreated, leads to blindness.” Note 1

The highest waterfall in the world is the Angel Falls in Venezuela, the fall a staggering 979 metres.

In 2015 Celina and I were lucky enough to visit Las Cataratas del Iguazú on the borders of Brazil and Argentina, staying on the appropriately named Belmond Hotel da Cataratas (see PC 51 Foz!)

You may remember the joke that went around the school playground:

The biology teacher asked her class: “Which organ of the human body increases tenfold when stimulated?” One rather prudish girl in the front row, Mary, said: “Miss, you shouldn’t be asking a question like that. I am going to tell my parents and you’ll be in trouble.” Ignoring her, she asked the question again and Billy at the back said: “It’s the pupil of the eye, Miss.” Turning to Mary, the teacher said: “As for you, young lady, I have three things to say. One, you obviously have a dirty mind; two, you didn’t do the set homework and three, one day you are going to be very disappointed.”

My step-grandfather Tommy Tizzard was a well-respected ophthalmic surgeon in Bath and had his consulting room on the ground floor of Number 15, The Royal Crescent. It was off-limits to a seven-year-old but a quick peep revealed cabinets full of optical equipment and trays of lenses. I have to assume in amongst his other skills was the removal of a cataract, as the modern cataract procedures were first pioneered in 1747 by Frenchman Jacques Daviel.  

Old people start talking about cataracts. “I’m having my cataracts done.” In much the same way they say: “I’m having my hips replaced.”, but until you’re in need yourself, it’s just something old people do! I hope to demystify the process, although accept that for some sensitive people anything to do with operating on one’s eye is too much information.

I had been short sighted for ever and worn contact lenses since 1969 when I wanted to sail and be able to see – salt water on glasses is a complete no-no. Aware that I had growing cataracts, the situation came to a head in October last year when the local optician said he couldn’t prescribe glasses until my cataracts has been removed.

I couldn’t better this little series of diagrams of what happens:

The Optegra Eye Hospital in Brighton is taking NHS patients to reduce the current 5 months NHS backlog so, after the appropriate checks, I had my first operated on before Christmas. Very straight forward, lots of anaesthetic drops in the eye, onto the operating chair, stare at a very white light and five minutes later done. Here in the UK there’s a standard 8 weeks between the first and the second eye operations but I know in Turkey, for instance, if you go private, they will do both eyes at the same time.

After the cloudy lens had been removed and a clear one inserted, the outer surface seals together very quickly but for 12 hours or so the eyelid’s interaction with its microscopic bumpy surface is discomforting. It was only after I’d had the second one done I realised how my balance had been affected by effectively being only one-eyed for eight weeks!

There’s a certain conveyor-belt feel about the clinic, inevitable I guess as there’s a repetitive nature to what they do, but each person is treated with great care and attention and nothing seemed too much trouble. Given that they deal almost exclusively with the elderly, I am sure at times their patience is tested, but to their great credit it doesn’t show.

Cataracts also interfere with the way you interpret colour. Everything might start to look like an old Polaroid or one of those sepia-tinted photos. This happens because the deteriorating proteins in your lenses can become yellowed or brown-ish. The difference ante and post operation was absolutely stunning! What happened three hundred years ago when one’s eyes developed cataracts? I guess you slowly went blind; how blessed we are with these commonplace operations.

I wrote to Optegra after my second operation:

“Thank you for my new vision, thank you for your professionalism and thank you for changing the outlook of those fortunate to be your patients.”

And to end on a note of amusement, when Holmes and Watson were on a camping trip, Holmes woke Watson in their tent in the middle of the night and asked him to look up and tell him what he saw.

“I see millions of stars, Holmes.”

“And what do you conclude from that, Watson?”

Watson talked for a few minutes about the universe, distant galaxies and how God is all-powerful. He then asked Holmes what it told him.

“Watson, you idiot! Someone has stolen our tent!”

Richard 22^nd March 2024

Hove

www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

Note 1 Cataracts on the surface of the eye’s lens cause increasingly fuzzy and cloudy vision, like looking through a tumbling waterfall.

I thought I should catch up with Josh while his experiences of his time in Israel are still fresh in his mind. Mind you, given the fact he was wounded, I suspect they will forever be just below the surface of his memory. He and Libby are behind the counter and Libby’s happy to let him come and chat so, grabbing a couple of coffees, we find a secluded corner table.

“It’s good to see you back, Josh, relatively in one piece! I hadn’t imagined you would have travelled to Israel in November until Duncan told me. Why did you go? You know we had a candle on the counter while you were away?”

“Yah! Luke told me. You know I’d never thought about my Ukrainian grandparents much, not interested in where they had come from – well, not until they had both died and then I rued the day I hadn’t spoken to them more. I had no idea about their lives in Lyviv and why they fled to Britain. You’re old enough to remember the 1988 hit The Living Years aren’t you?”

“Absolutely. No idea who sang it …..”

“Mike & the Mechanics ….”

“Ah! Yes! But you’re thinking about those poignant lines ‘it’s too late when we die’ to regret not asking the questions, although the song was more about a relationship with one’s father!”

“Exactly! Well, I felt I had to do something after the horrific Hamas assault on kibbutz in October, me and many other members of the Jewish diaspora. After some very difficult conversations with Luke, I reported to the London embassy in early November and before I knew it, I was in Israel, in uniform and in the midst of some extremely intensive training, mostly about weapon handling and survival. I don’t think they intended to use those of us who had absolutely no military experience anywhere but in static observation posts!!”

“You were up on the border with Lebanon?”

“Yes – not that the Lebanese have any say in what happens there; completed dominated by Iran’s proxy Hezbollah.”

“I was within a month of being commissioned at The Royal Military Academy when Israel launched its assault on Egypt, Jordan and Syria in what’s now called The Six Day War (5-10 June 1967). That’s when they annexed The Golan Heights in the north.” Note 1

“I never knew Richard you were in the Army. How long did you serve?”

“Almost twenty years! I left before you were born! Actually in my company at Sandhurst we had a chap called Tim Daghestani who was from Jordan. I remember how badly he took that conflict!”

“You would, wouldn’t you! They say, whoever ‘they’ are, that warfare used to be 90% boredom and 10% action but up there looking out over southern Lebanon it was full on. Drones have totally altered the battlefield and we had to be alert all day and all night; no respite!”

“So how long had you been up on the border before you got injured?”

“About six weeks. Fucking drone flew overhead and dropped some grenades. It was raining, dark and windy and no one saw it until it was too late. Israel has, for its entire existence, coped with minor conflicts so the process of recovery, rehabilitation and repatriation was a well-oiled machine.” 

“Now you’re back, do you think you made the right decision, to go?”

“Oh! God! It’s so complicated ….. this heart and head thing! Obviously Hamas decided that enough was enough, that their often reiterated raison d’être was the destruction of the Jewish State, and that the time was right. Did anyone in their leadership think what the response to their murder, rape, torture and kidnapping operation might be? (Ed It sounded as though Josh was talking ‘bold’.) I assume they couldn’t care; bit like Stalin, ‘one death is a tragedy, a million deaths a statistic.’ And no one can be anything but aghast at what is happening to the Palestinian people, with no end to their suffering.

So, yes! I am pleased I went, pleased I came back in one piece, pleased to identify as a Jew, but saddened how many innocent people die or are simply displaced in conflicts, whether it’s this one, or in Syria or Ukraine with whole cities flattened, with the Rohingya and Uyghur genocides, not to mention the Sudanese conflict. I came back on 1^st February and am having a few counselling sessions to make sure I put the experiences in context.”

“Well done you, Josh! I was going to say you can tell your children about it but I have no idea whether you and Luke want children?”

“A conversation for another time maybe?”

 “Before you go back to help Libby, you might like to hear this, extracted from the obituary of a civilian doctor who had gone to help out during our military operations in Afghanistan:  

“As someone who had gone on peace marches, I thought soldiers were stupid and unreasoning. After my ‘vicars and tarts course’, a six weeks’ intensive training at Sandhurst for professional recruits such as doctors, lawyers and dentists (Ed: Dr Chris Bulstrode was the oldest ever Officer Cadet at 56) I was posted to Afghanistan. After six months working as a front-line doctor in Camp Bastion, I changed my view. I liked and admired many of the men and women I met. They were a team of hugely loyal, talented, committed individuals who were passionate about their jobs. There are plenty of things I don’t like about the army, like the staggering weight of full-combat gear and the gut-challenging responsibility of going out on patrol, but I did savour the absolute simplicity of the life.” (Dr Chris Bulstrode CBE surgeon 1951 – 2023)

“That’s exactly it! Spot on! Hey! Must go! Thanks for listening.”

While Josh returned to his barista duties, I looked around this delightful café, so pleased to be part of its vibe. Must catch up with Mo on my next visit.

Richard 15^th March 2024

Hove

http://www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

Note 1 Possibly the shortest ‘war’ was the military conflict between the United Kingdom and the Sultanate of Zanzibar in August 1896. It lasted about 45 minutes and if you don’t know its details, it’s worth finding out.

I imagine sociologists are having a field day observing how we are developing, or not! That is, is society worse now than twenty years ago, one hundred and twenty years ago, before the pandemic? Both individuals and groups are interacting with each other in different ways. Rather than drift inexorably towards one another, with more shared than oppositional views, for the greater good of mankind, it seems we are moving apart in some form of macro polarisation.

Two observations illustrate this at the micro level.

Just before Christmas Celina and I, after our morning yoga session, were waiting for the No 6 bus in Churchill Square to take us home. The square is a magnet for shoppers, with M&S on one side and the huge shopping centre, recently bought by Ikea, on the other. Given the time of year, the bus was pretty full when we got on, trying not to let our wet yoga mats get in the way, but there were a few spaces. Normally I leave the seats reserved for the elderly or those unable to stand and we found a couple behind such a row, which was already occupied.

Then an oldish bald chap got on, wearing a gilet and shorts, as you do in winter, presumably wanting to make a statement, looked around for a seat and said to the two people in front of us “These are reserved for the old ….. move!” Quite shocked by the tone of his voice, the two women got up and started to move to the back, one of them telling the chap she was pregnant. No recognition, no empathy, no: “Oh! I’m so sorry! Please! Stay there.” The whole situation highlighted the difficulties we have in recognising invisible disabilities or early-stage pregnancy.

The bus moved off, everyone settled, until Mr ‘Couldn’t Give a Monkey about Others’ noticed a chap staring at him, presumably wondering why someone could be so rude. Well, that started 5 minutes of “What the f**k are you looking at?” “You got a problem?” ……. and without getting any response repeated himself, glaring at those around him, confronting their non-responsiveness. Other passengers were shocked but these days there’s a reluctance to challenge rudeness for fear of exacerbating the situation. Fortunately, he got off at the next stop and the bus’s passengers, heaving an audible collective sigh of relief, started chatting to those next to them. (Note 1)

Everyone accepts that for well-referenced reasons we are in a ‘cost of living’ crisis. You could blame Putin for his invasion of another sovereign country and its effect on energy costs, a general increase in labour and raw material prices globally or countries wanting to implement better environmental policies which are often more costly, but its effect, particularly for those struggling at the bottom of the societal heap, is profound. And when your back is against the wall, desperate times call for desperate measures. Not able to afford the basics, you might go to your local Food Bank whose number here has seen an exponential rise, or you might be tempted in the supermarket to pop some bacon or a loaf of bread into your bag with the intention of not paying at the checkout. I read somewhere that some people, presumably not shop owners, think it’s acceptable and that’s extremely worrying.

An individual on their own does not constitute a society; you need at least one other, with whom you agree certain acceptable behaviours. If you can’t agree it’s back to the law of the jungle. Over generations we like to think the basics are right but introduce new laws to cope with changing values; we think we become more civilised in the process. But I also understand that within a country’s borders there may be many different societies who don’t sign up to the majority view. A recent documentary focused on petty criminals and their love of Rolex watches – other people’s that is. Asked whether they thought it morally wrong to steal, often in a violent manner, the response was: “I don’t do morals.” (Note 2)

The other day I was in George Street, in Bert’s, a store that provides the solution to the question: “God! I have to buy something for my best friend/brother/work colleague/sister/friend’s baby/an anniversary/to take to a supper party etc.” The range runs from cuddly toys, greeting cards and mugs, through every conceivable cooking gadget known to women and men to plates, bowls and paper napkins looking like £20 notes. Lots of items, none of which cost a fortune, which could convey whatever message they need to: “Congratulations/thank you/you need this/love you/the mug caption made me smile and think of you etc.”

Clutching a couple of cards in one hand, I made my way around the central shelving unit to see whether anything else caught my eye, before arriving back near the cash desk, staffed by Bridget, just in time to hear someone kick off.

“Wot! You fink like I didn’t pay for this? How dare you!” shouted a woman wrapped fashionably in a parka with fake fur lining.

“Like you fink my money’s not as good as like these other customers ….

“Madam! I am sorry! I must have made a mistake (Ed: You could tell from her eyes she was thinking: ‘No! I haven’t’). I am sorry if I’ve offended you.”

“Trouble with you lot, with your toffee-nosed attitude, like you looks at me and fink I might put something in my pocket like without paying. Shame on you ….. and your grovelling attempts at an apology? F**k you!”

…… and, turning to the rest of us who, rather saddened at this display of ‘you said/she said/you said’ and feeling particularly sorry for the cashier, were looking on without making eye contact, shouted:

“And you lot! You’re like so judgemental! You go f**k yourselves too!” Off she strode, out into pedestrianised George Street, shouting to those who would listen ‘Don’t shop in Berts! Don’t want my money! Fuckers!’

Maybe she was a relative of Mr ‘Couldn’t Give a Monkey About Others’?

Richard 8^th March 2024

Hove

http://www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

Note 1 Of course I have no idea why this chap behaved the way he did; the imagination runs riot. Maybe it was as simple as getting out of bed the wrong side?

Note 2 It could be an examination question: “I don’t do morals. Discuss.”

If you read PC 366 ‘Medical Decluttering’ (December 2023) you will remember that, following enough time to describe a number of health issues with Celina’s private doctor, Simon Glew at The Hove Practice, I embarked on a few procedures to declutter and get a medical MOT for the year ahead. It started with the removal of a malignant melanoma before Christmas and then removal of big haemorrhoids in January. (See PC 373 Anally Focused February 2024)

In the UK there is an annual vehicle check by the Ministry of Transport (MOT) on its roadworthiness after the first three years. It looks at things like tyre tread, brake pads, steering etc and costs about £40. It seems appropriate to call this postcard a Medical MOT, as I have sold my six-year-old Audi Q3 to replenish the coffers. The car was due its MOT, insurance and Road Tax and was broadly costing me £3,000 per year – for 1350 miles!

I had a lipoma. “Lipomas are tumours which develop as well-circumscribed, encapsulated masses that have a doughy feel and are freely mobile beneath the skin. ….. Their slow, usually painless growth can lead to a large size. (Mine had grown over 7 years!) ….. Previous studies have defined a giant lipoma of the upper extremity as larger than 5cms; these are extremely rare and must be removed.” … say MDs Brian Allen, Christine Rader and Alan Babigian in a paper in the magazine Pulsus Plastic Surgery.

Most lipoma is unsightly although benign but mine was about 10cms long so I was referred to a consultant in the Montefiore Hospital here in Hove. I am no stranger to this private hospital as I had had a L4/L5 microdiscectomy on my back here in July 2017, (see PC 99 Montefiore June 2017) after my failure to get the NHS to do anything more than prescribe Gabapentin, a horrific painkiller!

Just to confirm my lump was a lipoma, Joideep Phadnis, the Orthopaedic Consultant who specialises in Shoulder and Elbow Surgery, whom I saw before Christmas, said I should have a MRI to ‘confirm the lesion is benign before removal’. Meanwhile, given his busy timetable, I was provisionally booked in for surgery on 21^st February 2024 – nine days ago.  

My MRI Scan. Not sure what the pike-looking shape is?

Gradually the day dawns and, following the appropriate pre-admission checks, I am into the hospital at 1230 for afternoon surgery. Sitting in my room, dressed for the occasion complete with DVT socks and backless gown, I begin to wonder whether ‘afternoon’ would become early evening! Fortunately I have brought my Kindle, so immerse myself in Chris Hammer’s latest Australian novel. Strangely, Ivan, the Homicide Detective Sergeant investigating a murder, is remembering his mentor – Morris Montifiore!

Eventually I am summoned, walked along the deserted hospital corridor and arrive at the theatre. Normal sort of chat …… ‘just feel a small prick and breathe the oxygen in ….. and out ……’ and then I am back in my room!

After the shift change at 2000, I get given some painkillers and told not to get the wound wet for a fortnight ….. and I can go. Celina arrives at the main entrance which is now closed but she spies the cleaners going in round the back and makes her way up to my room. There’s something weird about empty hospital corridors at night; I sense we are not alone!

Back home at 2130

The following morning I look at the Limbo, a ‘waterproof protection for casts and dressings’, that I was given to enable me to have a shower.

I stick my arm in but the Limbo’s too short, the elasticated ring below my wound. I cut off the bottom end so my hand can come out, but my wound is too high for the ring to get around it. Useless!! Nice idea but in this instance useless!

When I was involved in sales and giving presentations to prospective clients, one well-proven method of getting rid of nervous negative thoughts was to snap a rubber band against one’s wrist. It hurt; the ‘negative thought’ was no longer the focus! Walk to the bathroom in the night and bang your foot, the natural reaction is to bend down to rub it. As you bend, if you bang your head, your head hurts – toe? Nah! So it is with another operation within a month of the first, any residual pain from the first disappears. Which is a delight! But actually there is very little pain after the second so I haven’t taken any painkillers.

Our NHS struggles. It does brilliantly with emergencies but waiting lists for elective appointments and operations grow longer and longer. We are starting to hear of isolated trials in ways to improve the way the NHS serves the nation. Too many individuals who dial 999 are generally picked up by an ambulance and taken to a hugely overstretched A&E department. There was news the other evening of a trial in Kent where representatives from over six NHS specialities, A&E, Social Services, GP, Critical Specialist Nurses etc all sat in a Call Centre, discussed the 999 call details and offered alternatives to putting the individual in an ambulance. Thinking outside the box, at last!

I had my second cataract removed yesterday at the Optegra Eye Hospital in Brighton. Now I have 20/20 vision in both eyes and popped into Tesco’s to buy some reading glasses; in a few weeks I might select a ‘designer’ pair.

Healing nicely

MOT complete; all I have to do now is encourage my intestines, ravaged by two lots of heavy anaesthetics within a month, to return to some form of equilibrium. Maybe I should eat a raw leek as it’s St David’s Day?

Richard 1^st March 2024 – St David’s Day

Hove

www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

PS Two medical stories appeared in the news a few weeks ago. In the first, a biochemist who worked for the NHS won a discrimination claim after she was listed on a London hospital spread sheet under the name ‘Paininarse’. Funny to read but insensitive and traumatic if it described you.