Another doctors appointment where I come home in tears.
My symptoms have worsened this week.
I am not Superwoman.
I tried to explain it to him.
I am too dizzy to walk, my stomach won’t digest food, my nausea is taking over my day, my vision is deteriorating, my neck muscles are throbbing and throbbing, and never stop throbbing. I am growing weaker, and weaker by the day.
This thing has ruined my life, and I will not let you sit there in silence and give me that sad ‘it’s-all-in-your-mind’ look. People don’t just get these symptoms for it to be diagnosed as NOTHING.
Everyone is moving, and I have stopped.
But I can see them. I can see their judgemental stares.
I spoke so quickly, my sentences were coming out as word vomit. I brought out my little pre-written timeline, and I showed him all of the referrals I wanted next.
I gave my doctor a gameplan.
I told him what we do next.
After the Gastric Emptying Test on Thursday, I want more blood work done.
I want an MRI for my neck.
I want my goddamn life back.
I want my body back.
I want my energy back.
I want someone to believe me.
His stupid facial expression felt like a hundred arrows had just been shot into my heart at once. It felt like I had been lit me on fire, and I could feel every ounce of my skin burning.
I felt so naked, so exposed.
And inside of me, whirling in the pit of my stomach, It held back my hair because it could sense vulnerability, and It chuckled in my ear; it’s all in your head.
“Anti-depressants,” was the only word he said, that cut me from my thoughts.
These were his only words in my half an hour appointment.
BECAUSE ANTI-DEPRESSANTS JUST MIRACULOUSLY FIX EVERYTHING, DON’T THEY? I am depressed BECAUSE of the illness terrorising my body.
But hey, anti-depressants will definitely get me out of here so you don’t have to deal with me anymore.
A few of you have asked my where I see myself in the future, and if I have any dreams? Will I go back to childcare? Do I want a family? Do I want children of my own? Do I want to travel?
On nights like this, I imagine my future self in a psych ward, being pumped with medication, my mind corrupted by this disease, my visitor’s log empty.
I don’t have a family, I don’t have friends, I don’t have Love, I don’t have hope, I don’t have control.
Sometimes, I don’t even see that.
I see dirt, rotting flowers and complete darkness.