Talk about a wake up call:
"Good morning Karen. I have an injection fir you and I'm going to remove your catheter."
Welcome world!
It's Monday ;(
I'm dreading results - and they may not even arrive today.
Also (and I know that this sounds odd) I'm dreading going home.
My autistic (not yet diagnosed -awaiting results of assessment carried out day before op) DS is a blummin' lovable nightmare. I do have childcare but put it this way, we havebt had 17 au pairs in 3 years for no reason. He is hard. So am I. Maybe. Lol
As for it being cancer, it'd be a better care plan if I do (hopefully just the op I've just had). If it's benign, it's a nasty fucker that actually acts like an aggressive cancer and comes back more often than not, responding only to seriously tough cancer-appropriate drugs (tax, chemo, rads, etc).
And no support from Macmillan as not called as a cancer.
Exceedingly rare. Blah blah blah
This morning I'm feeling down n why me. Self-pity trip.
Anorexia, molar pregnancy, adult glandular fever - all seemed big. We're big. Now this. Why.
I know the answer: why not. Why shouldn't it be me. Bad things happen to good people. Blah blah blah
Emotional anyway. Did first (giant rocket hard poo the length of a leek) for 6 days, last week. Not great when you've had parts of spine removed and a tumour the size of an orange fri your sacrum. Oh, and guess what joy of joy happened in that moment, too... I came on.
And my DH texted to have a dig cos I didn't jump for joy when he brought the wrong soup having been waiting for it (from home) in anticipation for 3 days here in hospital.
Yup
Tell me to shut up. I really should. Trapped in a room, looking at a brick wall from my hospital room ain't helping. My mood has to lift later. If surgeon doesn't deliver fibro-news.
Sorry for depressing self-pity post (henceforth known as SPP).