Finally, the stress of last week is wearing off. As I've said, I hadn't realised quite how much having to go to the hospital was playing on my mind. It is wonderful to wake up and know that I don't have that journey to make (literally and metaphorically) this week; indeed, I'm free now until July.
I suppose different people approach check-ups in different ways. I know many who see it as a chance for reassurance and support. Some, like me, though, find it invasive, upsetting and thoroughly unsettling. Having had cancer is sufficient, it seems to me, without being constantly reminded of the fact. I know that they're only ensuring that I remain healthy but, somehow, the repeated visits to the hospital seem more for the benefit of the medical profession than for me.
Doubtless I have the wrong attitude. But then I've never liked being told what to do. If I were given the choice, I'd probably go for check-ups of my own accord, but because I'm given a new appointment at the end of each hospital visit, I feel that it's an imposition (particularly since the department is about to be moved to a really inaccessible part of the city...)
Maybe this is my chance to learn to trust the medical profession?
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