Sad face 

Despite people’s best efforts with cheering me up, excluding a doctor telling me off for walking funny and not standing up straight  (obviously due to my abdo pain), I have remained miserable. 

Yesterday’s post mortem cases were quite sad and one freaked me out a little as she pretty much had the same body as me, minus tattoos. Imagine seeing yourself dead. That’s what it felt like. Really creepy. 

I’m also panicky about tomorrow’s consultation. He’ll either say yes, I’m a good candidate for surgery and I’ll have the stress of that and finding the money for it. Or he will say no and I’ll spiral into a horrific depression. 

I’m running out of options. I’ve covered all bases. 

I don’t want to spend my life on hard-core pain killers. I have no idea the damage it’s doing to my liver/stomach/kidneys etc. I could be causing further damage and it won’t be detected til too late because nobody is monitoring the amount of drugs I’m taking at all.

I also do not like the prospect of being in pain for the next 30+ years, so the risk of an op feels worth it to me. 

I was fortunate enough to be able to enjoy my aunt’s wedding at the weekend in a relatively oain free manner, but my handbag was jam packed full of pain killers, antinausea, buscopan and my TENS machine “just in case”.

I want to be able to say yes to invites to do things. Little things like going out for dinner or meeting up with friends, without the fear of it making me feel even worse. 

I’ve made it to the big things. The weddings, the baby showers etc but I’m missing out on life. 

It’s 7pm and I’m in bed ffs. I’m 30 years old not 3.

I don’t know how much longer I can fake this being strong thing. I’m not strong. I’m just stubborn 


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