As a follow up to a post i made a few days back, my doctor contacted me this afternoon to deliver the blood test results which consisted of informing me i was still unwell (shock) and would need a fast track appointment with the consultant I’m due to see.

I know that i should count my blessings as there are people out there who will live in suffering i will never be able to understand, which fills me with nothing but guilt for my own self pity. I have been patient and impassive for almost three months now and I’m not entirely sure how much more i can take of this uncertainty. I can’t commit to anything right now, i even have some volunteer work set up at my local animal shelter which i can’t even start until all this is out of the way!

I miss learning, i miss my uni friends, i miss my job (but not the journey!), i miss having the energy to have fun and most of all i miss being so busy that i don’t have time to blog!

Okay, this is like therapy, i feel better now that i’ve let it all out. That is more than enough self pity for one day.

I’m going for a really, really long run - there’s no clouds, so the stars are out…

X

You’ve been wandering the same futile path for so long, you begin to forget how you even got there in the first place. Your body slowly drags behind your feet, dead weight, another impassive burden on your seemingly infinite highway. Stumbling and staggering your way past each reoccurring object in your view, sneering, jagged, jeering, fake smiles and false promises of hope, unable to break away from the road closing in around you. The dust never settles, the only thing empowering you with the momentum to breathe is the subtle, yet overwhelming breeze that grabs hold of your body and ignites memories deep within your soul of a time before, a time previous to this, a time in which you understood happiness and love and faith. Wanderer, both mind and body, two separate directions but no destination. Ultimately searching for a greater truth, a purpose, a reason to live. You take one final stumble onto the rocky ground, as you begin to pull yourself back up, you notice your path has changed, or at least, it’s position has. You look to your left, then to your right. You see an infinite number of paths, each one belonging to someone else, someone else’s struggle and hardships, someone else’s fight against self loathing and desperation, a fellow wanderer, a fellow human being, a friend. As you begin to rise you remind yourself to always open your eyes as you wander.

You are never alone.

And we’re on to Brand New, quick someone save me from myself!

Edit: Too late, well and truly lost in Jesse Lacey.

A fasting glucose test plus full blood count. It’s not so much the pain, which thankfully is pretty minimal, but more so looking over and watching vile after vile fill up and wondering how you ever had that much blood to give in the first place and whether, in fact, the nurse is conspiring against you and secretly wants you to die horrifically of blood loss while she laughs to herself…

All joking aside, i do feel like a natural at blood tests now. I think my skin is starting to get used to the whole bruised and purple thing too. I feel like Barney the Dinosaur! I’ve also seen more medical professionals than i have my own friends in the past two months which is slightly dismal. You know it’s a sign when your Doctor starts asking you how your cats are doing!

Note to self: accept every invitation to go out from now even if on death bed and even if said invitation consists of venturing to a seedy night club I’m most definitely too old for to be grabbed and leered at by idiots on drugs. Possibly consider drinking heavily too and falling into the arms of men for one night who are absolutely no good for me to ‘build character’ and find some level of self-gratification.*

In hindsight, although my surge of optimism and desperation to get back into things was something that I’ve needed for my own sanity and is still something I’m super positive about, having the most intense work out and running 5k on an empty stomach of three days when you’ve been a jelly fish for weeks was probably not the most intelligent idea I’ve ever had, even if my heart was in the right place (which coincidentally, is probably somewhere along the track i was running right about now…)

So, in the spirit of none of these medically trained professionals still not knowing what is medically wrong with me (oh irony), I’m going for a CT scan (hooray for more radiation), to see someone who is on an NHS consultants wage yet apparently knows what they’re talking about (questionable) and continuing to have my days filled with uncertainty (Harry Potter marathons).

In case you couldn’t already tell, I’m at that point now where i don’t really care. If i drop dead, i drop dead, i just want to carry on with my life. I’d even go as far as saying Dr. Google has done a better job of diagnosing me with the brain tumour, terminal cancer, TB, and that auto-immune disease etc than anyone I’ve seen over the previous weeks.

If any of my wonderful followers would like to come round and rescue me from my prison of rice cakes and books on the French Revolution, that would be lovely. I’m game for a trip? If i don’t get out of this city soon, I really will just pack my bag and see where the world takes me! Wildlife safari in Africa would be a good starting place, oui?

X

*Please note - Totally kidding…maybe