2 years ago they found a massive brain tumour. It was huge (bigger than a fist) I was critical. They removed it, it was benign and post surgery was wonderful. It took a year to recover but I wasn't in pain. I hadn't realised I was until I found I wasn't IYSWIM. Took a year but got back to work though needed to change jobs due to sensory overload in existing job. Been there 4 months. After a year, I discovered I had a second benign tumour that had been there all along but had been forgotten about due to the life threatening situation with the first one. I just burst out laughing when they told me. It's the size of a grape - nothing in comparison.
I get annual scans. November, they find regrowth; significant regrowth. I need radiotherapy. 6 weeks every day. "Hopefully" I won't need further treatment. Further treatment could involve partial face reconstruction. It's this final bit that's pissed me off. How fucking dare it. My life was getting back on track. New work were great then I drop them in it from a great height.
Problem is I don't live in the UK. Think crown dependency. So for treatment, I have to move to stay in a hotel. No family or friends with me. No pets. No cooking facilities for dinners.
I want to kick and scream and shout. And cry, but I can't do that since surgery so I have to put up with ðŸ˜. I have been so bloody positive through it all. It genuinely hasn't phased me, until now. And now I'm so ANGRY.
Tell me IANBU, please.