I made a bad mistake today. I burnt my toast, then tried to eat it. It hurt, badly.
I’m assuming that the problem was that the gullet has been badly narrowed and there is lots of scar tissue. There may also be cancer there, but it seems unlikely to have grown much in 4 weeks.
But of course I don’t know. We find out on Friday, well my family will, I find out when I wake up, maybe Saturday.
And eating was still painful tonight.
Meanwhile I’m tidying up my affairs (sounds like I’m running a string of nubile young ladies – which I assure you I am not).
Forty years ago after my accident I remember feeling surprised to wake up. I’d not expected that, I’d assumed I was dead. Quite a surprise.
It’s not death as such that frightens me. Like I said yesterday, we all face that, and I sorted that issue out 40 years ago.
- I’m afraid of pain and being helpless. I make jokes about if anyone calls me crippled, I hit them with my crutches. I do that because I fought to acheive the same as , or more, than the “normal” types did. And I did. I can cope with a certain amount of pain, but the pain in my gullet today was bad. When I was on the breathing machine 40 years ago they had to clear my lungs out every so often, by taking me off the breathing machine and sticking a sort of vacuum cleaner down my throat. The pain was terrible. I am afraid of that again. And I am afraid of being truly helpless. I will do my best to overcome what I am dealt, but it is hard.
- I’m afraid of uncertainty as well. I want to know, yet I fear the day the answer will come.
- And I’m angry as well. Not at myself, or at God or the doctors. I’m just angry, but with no-one to be angry at, which is really rather silly, but nonetheless real.
And now there are only two more blogs to do, before I go into the MRI, and I’m getting maudlin. So good night.