misery and medicals

I find it hard these days to keep up a blog. Not because I have nothing to say, as I can always ramble - but because I feel I just write the same things over and over. Like - oh, I'm ill or I'm miserable. And it grates on me, so God knows how anyone reading it will feel. But at the same time, everything needs an outlet and for that sort of talk, online is my only outlet and I guess the safest place is a blog hardly anyone reads.

I'm completely doped on painkillers at the moment. I'm still sore, but it doesn't matter. It's more of an irritating sharp poke than being identifiable as pain. Yet I know when painkillers run out, it will hurt like a bitch. And yes, I know I should get into hospital. I act stupid by not going in, but I do know that one way or another, time is ticking down. In a melodramatic sense, I almost feel like I'm living on borrowed time - not borrowed from death, I'm not pushing my thoughts that far, but borrowed from facing upto the full implications of my health and the impending crisis that is looming. Crisis may be too dramatic a word to use, but facing upto things, and going into hospital, and facing the fear of never leaving it again etc - it's a crisis to me. And one I want to avoid, because I still believe that I won't survive this. And no matter how much logic I apply to myself or how much common sense, I can't change my gut feeling. Of course, it's not really a 'gut feeling' - prior to being told by the surgeon that I would die, I didn't have such extreme worries, but since then, I cannot escape that fear.

I find myself more miserable by the day. Maybe it's just a low mood swing, in general - when healthy, I didn't suffer that much from lows. I got them, but I didn't wallow. Instead I would deal with problems and face upto them, and keep on the move. How times change, eh? These days - everything is the same. I have very few things in my life - I play my DS, I read books, I feed my horses, I come online and I watch TV. Which may sound heavenly to those who work - but trust me, when you have this every single day - you soon yearn for work, not just for the stimulation, but also for the money which allows a greater freedom of activity/hobbies. I am becoming more ill, that's a given. Paul has noticed, and today even said to me that even with the stronger painkillers, I seem worse. And I seem worse, because I am worse. Higher painkillers weren't quite the saviour I had hoped for.

Tomorrow I have a medical for the Department of Work and Pensions, which is the Government body who oversee welfare benefits, which I receive for being unable to work. I am really quite scared about it. Not because I feel I am being a fraud and will be 'found out' - but because I know that they are trying to get as many people off of benefit as possible, it's not about individuals, at the end of the day it's about statistics which means I may not receive a fair medical, it may be that they need more numbers to fill up the 'back to work' column. Although I do have a case that is harder to discount, but I have a dread feeling that they will, which means following that - I only receive half my benefit and have to appeal via a tribunal, which tend to go in favour of the Government. It's a farce, but it's what Britain has become. As it is, I suffer from severe cholecystitis, which on my previous medical was noted as a ''severe, serious disease'' by the Doctor I was seen by. I'm on masses of painkillers which make me unable to function, and have little dignity left when it comes to most things (given I struggle to take baths given pain I have - but don't worry, I take a shower, I don't smell [I have a phobia about hygeine!] - and I can't wear bras anymore, at all, and with 42DD breasts, well, it's undignified - I look like a cow ready to be milked).

I'm hoping that I'm treated fairly and am not made to suffer stressful weeks of fighting the bit for myself. Stress makes matters worse - medically - stress increases something or other which puts more stress on the gall bladder and intensifies problems in that area. So the last thing I need is stress, and I've had plenty of it recently. Further into stressful things, I have a GP appointment on Wednesday for my GP to hopefully send this bloody letter to the surgeon to get me back onto the operating list - then at some point I may be able to regain my life or have it ended. One way or another, I'd be gall bladder free.

But for now, I'll close on yet another entry filled with moaning and misery.