The 27th & 28th; How can things improve when I don’t have a belief that they can?

August 29, 2015 — Leave a comment

The 27th of August.

It hasn’t been a good day. I cracked. I had to tell Mommy how I’m feeling. I don’t know how it’s going to help. She suggested going and taking classes or something so I can meet people. But I don’t see how that would make things better. I still can’t just go out and do things, even if I made some friends, which I think is unlikely because most people who take classes for leisure (there’s no local adult ed) are retired, or at least much older than me. 

I’m certainly never going to meet a romantic partner. I said this and she said I don’t know that, but I do. I know that no one would ever take me on; I’m a burden. Why would someone date me? I may have loads of brilliant qualities but they’re worth nothing when my body is pathetic and nobody looks at you as a potential girlfriend when you’re in a wheelchair. People say it wouldn’t matter to the right person but that’s bullshit because why would anyone choose me over a healthy woman who can have children and a normal life? Why? No one has an answer to that. 

I just don’t see how anything can get better when my body isn’t going to change. How can things improve when I don’t have a belief that they can?

I’m really at a loss. 

The 28th of August.

It’s been a better day. Nothing is by any means sorted, but Mommy and I are going to talk to the North Birmingham Cats Protection Society about how I can do some volunteering so I can have some kitty friends. 

Today was my coil insertion, hysteroscopy and last minute smear at the Women’s Hospital. We had to be there at 7:30, so I was up at ten past six so I had time to down a lot of water before the 6:30 cut off. We arrived to find that I was first on the list, which was great news as my tummy was already grumbly. I got checked in and given some TED stockings with lovely frilly tops. I had to pull my curtains round at one point because I felt junk in my throat and needed to drink some water secretly to get it swallowed. Nobody noticed. 

The anaesthetist came to see me and we had a chat about my lungs, allergies and drugs, and he was happy with everything, then Dr. Robinson came and I asked her about the smear. She was confused as to why I’d been sent the letter as I’m still only 24, but said she’d do it but it might just get sent back. 

I got changed into my gown and at nine o’clock, and I got taken to theatre. My first cannula didn’t work because my vein did a u-turn, so I had a smaller one. I was given some fentanyl (my favourite) then drifted off into a beautifully dreamless sleep. 

I came round in recovery at about ten past ten, and was looked after by a very nice man who’s had his own medical miracles – he had a heart attack at 35 in a field but was saved by the two men he was with being a doctor and a paramedic, two doctors walking their dogs nearby, an ambulance passing the road at the right time, the field not being used for crops but horse pasture that year so the ambulance could get to him, then the consultant at A&E being the cardiology surgery coordinator! Definitely not his time to go. 

I got taken back to the ward after an hour, and had to stay for two more hours, eat and drink something and have a wee. The wee happened fairly quickly, and just after twelve, a lady came and offered me coffee and a sandwich. They have really good ones there! I chose pulled pork (obviously). 

Mommy came to get me just after one, so I got dressed and after getting my discharge letter, I was on my way! I’m not in any pain because I took two Tramadol when I returned to the ward. This afternoon, I’ve nearly finished the second fox hat, just need to do the eyes and nose and put it all together. Getting there!

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