Friday Thoughts…

I think this year began badly for everyone, as we were still shell-shocked from all that had gone before.

I thought most of it had gone though, hadn’t it?

This was a brand new year. Time to get cracking and shake off the residue of misery and frustration.

It took nearly three months before something masquerading as enthusiasm turned up, but boy, was it welcome!

But…

There is always a but, isn’t there?

Once I started to enjoy being a writer again, my health slowly drifted to worryville. Various checks later, my heart has been pronounced strong and healthy. Blood tests have checked the rest of my bits, and they’re all fine.

So why do I feel so ill, breathless and tired? I have trouble doing anything, and it’s getting worse.

One last check, a chest X-ray. Surely this must give me some answers?

I had a mini meltdown at my doctor’s appointment earlier this week. I hate bothering the doctor almost as much as I hate feeling ill and hate asking for help. She kept me waiting a long time, and from the look of the usually calm and helpful doctor, she must have had one hell of a day. She looked much older, tired and exhausted. Probably didn’t need me and all my questions that day.

Communication was strained as I tried to convey my worries. She struggled to decide what to do, finally listening to my chest and agreeing that I needed an X-ray. At that point, I think she needed me to stand up, say thanks very much and walk away.

But I had one more question…

What happened next was like a slap around the face. I mentioned my poor swollen foot. She rolled her eyes to the ceiling and said, ‘I suppose you want me to look at it?’

I stared at her, my temper and emotions arguing about what to do next.

Out of nowhere, I stood up and said, ‘No, I don’t think I do….’

She tried to backtrack at that point, apologising (I wasn’t sure what for), and then blamed me for having so many questions. Apparently, I had exceeded my allotted ten minutes!

When I left the surgery, I wasn’t quite sure whether I wanted to scream or cry. I did neither. I felt numb, vowing never to darken her door again. It took two days of sitting around, unable to concentrate on anything, before I started to feel normal again. At that point, I could have lain down on the road and died.

The X-ray is next Tuesday morning…