Well since writing my first blog entry, I’ve had a total crisis of confidence, what the hell have I done. Not only did I decide to put my whole pathetic existence online I also showed the world my poor writing and spelling skills, after re-learning how to live with having dyslexia and the shame of it, Ive now decided that if I cannot even write a blog then what am I doing a degree for, let alone trying to finish one less than three months after having a stroke, whilst dealing with a crohn’s flare up.
So that’s it I pretty much gave up, I was in hospital three times over the last two weeks seeing my specialists some good news, other good and bad and some just sent me further down my black hole. It’s hard even as I write now I worry that when my family reads it they will think she seemed ok, yep I do, I am, I have to get on with it and take it on the chin, but then when no ones around it doesn’t mean I smile or I’m happy I have to deal with these illnesses.
Who can smile continuously when less than a two weeks ago I was running round the house franticly preparing for getting to my hospital appointment with the worry in the back of my mind that I was going to be admitted, only to find I had two options either wait up to six weeks for an urgent, yes urgent MRI or be admitted and be in for minimum a week while they investigate and treat me. Well what choice, I mean there was no choice I can’t leave Mark for up to a week and put him and Finlay through me being away again, so I have to wait. Wait till the 17 April to be precise, having no treatment for my flare up because of the increased risk of strokes and cardiovascular complications when taking steroids (initial treatment for a flare up), he (the doctor) didn’t want to put my body under any more unnecessary strain until we know exactly what we are dealing with. Funny isn’t it saying “what we are dealing with” he’s not dealing with anything or wasn’t until I said, he really wasn’t banking me asking any questions, there is real unwritten rules when you deal with doctors, 1 don’t ask questions, 2 they know best and lastly they always know better than you what’s going on inside your body. So I sit there fighting back tears, because you must be strong, and muster the courage to say “so what do I do in the meantime, I mean, I’m struggling getting out of the house”, priceless reaction “well if it gets worse than it is at this point or you vomit you go to AnE straight away” well thank you so much doctor, and I walk out of his office in tears to the toilet.
Two days later I’ve an appointment with my stroke specialist, and the stroke nurse specialist they were brilliant, put my mind at rest about my future prospects of having children, which cheered me right up. Until, that is new I really started to processed what actually happened, so they didn’t have my hospital notes, not a great start and the doctor told me that since I’ve had a number of witnessed absence seizures I need to start medication to prevent them, especially if I want to drive. Soooo, another illness to add to the list, arhhh, what’s adding epilepsy to the list might as well, the more the merry apparently.
I can’t say I’m not gutted because I am, but I’m just not able to process it all, so I’ve chosen to take from that appointment I am likely to be able to have more children all be it under carful consultation. Yep, in total denial, but honestly the hole is big enough I can deal with it another day.
Four days later I have my appointment with my physiatrist, such fun, now the last time I saw this guy two weeks prior he asked me if I had hope or am I hopeless, yes really, it was like being in an American teen drama. So how did I answer, “My health is hopeless, but now you’re asking me if I am hopeless you’re making me think you think I’m hopeless” his reaction was “so you are living with hopelessness”. Well yes, I fucking am now it seems.
So as you can imagine I’m not thrilled at this point about seeing him, but its ok because my hospital notes are still missing and he spends most of the appointment trying to track them down, after 25 minutes he gives up and says he cannot do anything without them so I will have to come back another day. He was planning on changing my anti-depressants I’ve been on the same ones for over seven years now and he thinks that maybe they’re not working? Good lord, he’s good, he’s really good! So I leave thinking thanks for all that extra stress and worry, I just take a week to get over the anxiety and stress because I’ve defiantly got time to do that.
So I’ve spent the last few weeks in the toilet worrying, not being able to concentrate, not getting any work done, falling further behind and falling deeper in to my dark hole of my sorry sad existence. What now, well I’m going to put my smile back on and hope I find some energy and kick university ass.mI’m waking up and trying again.
Sorry for the bad spelling! I will try harder I promise!
She's all guts! 