An appointment

So, I saw the gynae, mr hillard, on Friday. I had asked my GP to see if that appt could be brought forward becaus it was 2 months from last test to this appt. but she didn't. She also said she wouldn't throw me off the books of doctors but has and said she would write a letter, but saying I'm aggressive to my care givers doesn't help thank you very much dr faulty. One saying I am terrified each time I make an appt and my anxiety and abject fear may appear to be and has been often mistaken for aggression, but that would have been helpful.

My appointment on Friday went a little like this ... How are you ... No better, if anything worse ... Well you tests show nothing, you stil have a bit of intusseception but nothing to worry about, and the scan was clear ... Sorry, but I still have intusseception? ... Yes, but you've been to colorectal and they are saying its your muscles, anyways, we can treat your heavy periods, you can have a coil, endometrial ablation or a hysterectomy what do you want ... Erm, the neurogastroenterologist I saw said I might be worse off having surgery and I am not comfortable with a coil, endo ablation I know nothing about. And the neurogastro said he wanted to see my notes and order some more tests but i have not heard anything ... Well, find out whats going on with him. Tell ya what, look this up (writes novasure on a bit of paper) come back in 3 months Cheerio.

On friday after this appt. I called and left a message for the secretary of dr Coleman in Southampton, the neurogastroenterologist I have been referred to as it has now been 5 weeks since I saw him and the magic 18 weeks since refer but not heard anything, no tests, no letter to GP, no request for records from my local hospital. She called me back this morning to say he had started a draft and was going to be ordering my notes soon but had been on holiday the last 3 weeks, how very fucking nice for him. Thing with all this bollox is that looks like it is going to move along, something will get sorted, oh yes refer me here and there, but when I get there for the appointments or wait for the tests, nothing is forthcoming, there are no answers, not even to the questions I have asked.

I am fucked off. I am back in bed because I cannot handle being up. I wanted to take kids out, but cramp and pressure and now fear and anxiety have eclipsed my future again. I am hungry but too scared to eat coz what goes in must come out again and it's like sticking my hand in a fire voluntarily each time I can't fight the hunger any longer. And this is the colour of my future, to crave the outside, company that I bore stupid with my "not sick"ness, to not be able to go far from my bed or sofa and to live in fear that this is as good as it is gonna get, plans forever cancelled because I am a bit off and can't go out or bear the embarrassment of my friends at their pathetic mate feeling a bit off. It is, after all, nothing serious ... Just there, stealing my children's mother and all her love, because when all you see is the inside of the lav you can't love your children that much huh? When you cant bear to be touch because your skin is crawling, when all you can do is shout at them because they shout at each other and all i can heard is pain and hate. That the only escape I can think of from this pain is to take my own life but that would be the cruelest of all, how could any mother? I know only too well, I can feel the prospect of relief from this pain, discomfort, life stealer like a zephyr washing over me on a hot day, and then I remember I can't do that to them. In one of my more uncomfortable days I told them, Paul and the children of how I felt. They were angry, I  believe, both then and now, they would all be happier because they could get over a death, but the slow removal of my sanity, my independence, my life would be far more painful for us all. Paul did say, make sure I kill the dog too, he would not want to have to care for her as well.