I shall be glad when January's over. I am, of course, wishing my life away again, but I am so tired of medical checks and the stress levels involved in these. Around a week before my hospital visits, I stop being able to sleep, wake up in the middle of the night after nightmares and generally feel like a rabbit trapped in headlights. I hate these visits. Even though I feel physically fine, they leave me a gibbering wreck for days before.
What's more, I am completely sick of being poked, prodded, interrogated and even made to feel like a nuisance for daring to set foot in the hospital (the receptionists were incredibly unhelpful on my last visit, even though the location of the treatment centre has changed and it was a hospital I'd never been to). On the whole, I want my life back!
Interestingly, this time I am not only anxious about my check-up, I'm also resentful.
Thought for the day: there does seem to be a tendency - and I can understand this - for hospital personnel to be very kind, understanding and supportive, but at the same time, to treat me as a number, not as a person. I know we all reach compassion overload, but, in fact, some cancer patients (e.g. me!) don't want sympathy - we just want to be treated like a real person, not a body to be pushed through the conveyor belt. And we want some of the people who examine us to realise that although they do this every day, to the patients it is a big deal.
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