I don't want to write this blog, I've put if off for days - I don't want "Oh you poor thing", "Oh sweetheart/hunni/*insert your own term of endearment*", or anything else barely resembling pity or *hugs*, don't get me wrong, I am hugely indebted to all the support I have and am being given and am little overwhlemed by it all - especially when someone offers to bunk off work and drive for 6 hours just to get me to a hospital appt, but what I don't want/ can't bear is lip service sympathy and so I say very little about my situation in terms of just how it affects daily life .. I may be a lot of things, but sad arsed moping emo I am not, yes this is now my life but I'm far from a poor thing, so please don't go there x
For reasons I don't feel the need to go in to, I'm not going to explain just how this thing started - except to say that on that night, the word no was ignored and from there to here my joints and bones have been slowly falling in to disrepair, a domino effect if you will - and the easiest way to begin explaining it is to drop in a pretty diagram ...
Every red arrow is an area of my pelvic region that is now fucked up beyond all recognition and what the diagram isn't showing is the other body parts affected by my "tilt", my knees are now taking more stress due to the lack of support for my spine, my achillies tendons are ready to snap due to the pressure they're now under .. the plus point is that while my shoulders now hate me, I am developing biceps that would rival popeyes as I now walk full time on crutches and my arms have become my "legs"
So that's the physical bit, old age came early to me
Several people recently have told me off for not admiting half of this, for keeping information to a minimum and for being too stubborn to say when it hurts or if I need help, trouble is, if I were to say when it hurts, that's all I would say and I cannot be that person, neither could I talk about having a teeny amount of surgery a few weeks ago or go in to any great detail about the sudden panic that I could have been growing more than a few extra facial hairs due to the PCOS.
Turns out, I'd been over doing it on the painkillers and pissed off my kidneys but while I was publically posting bucket lists and whatif tomorrow never comes blogs simply because it scared me just how unready I am for anything, there was a big fuss being made in the background questioning if something was growing in my back as I was losing limb sensation, was pretty sick all of the time and apparently was displaying rather alarming symptoms - gotta love the NHS, for everyones bitching about waiting lists and poor conditions, I can honestly say that the medics who have looked after me have been absolutely bloody brilliant - but I couldnt say anything to my friends, the bastard big C affects so many of them and I couldn't bring myself to say anything until I had all the facts.
So "how am I?" - in pain and terrified of what the future holds, pinning all of my hopes on sucessful treatment and rehab and very much looking forward to not losing sensation in my legs again - thats one freaking feeling, of not being too scared to stand up, of not being in fear of falling over and of throwing away the crutches and walking tall again.
I have been bloody miserable of late, so many things I have taken for granted are now out of reach, I'm back under psyc care because I have been suicidal for a while now - another reason I've not talked openly about how I feel .. no-one wants to hear "ready to give up" as a reply - it's not that I want to die, I'm just so tired of pain, of inability and of failure. I sit and read about friends going out, doing things, inviting me to join them and I just can't - hell, bathtime is an event all by itself I simply don't have it in me to go out and do things anymore.
I don't feel safe, I dont feel comfortable or confident and so I just don't. And I know that does me no favours long term, I tried going out today, had a panic attack before I'd even got out of bed just thinking about it but went and promptly spent 20 minutes trying to come up with a reaosn to get home as soon as possible. I am ashamed of that, I was five minutes away from home, sitting in a park on a glorious day but I couldn't breath and ended up bribing the boys with ice cream to get back to my sanctuary - as much as I let myself down with my depressive state, the boys suffer more so
They are so fantastic, they help out on chores I can no longer manage on my own, they bring cups of tea and a bucket on bad days, rub my back and help me up when I need a hand and make me cry in awe of just how incrediblely understanding of this situation they are - but its so unfair on them and my friends and family too who have to put up with me whinging and moaning on how life is - so thats why, when you ask .. how you doing, I'll do that thing whereby I say something about how lovely the weather/day is and reverse the question thus avoiding actually answering it because truth is .. right now, every day is a struggle, physically and emotionally, getting out of bed is an artform, functioning through the day without getting stoned off my tits on morphine is tiring, I hate the patheticness I've become.
