Saturday, June 15, 2013


My world feels as if it is getting smaller once again.
I guess in so many ways it is.

Last week, I began to live outside my room. Ventures to the local pub, trips to the shop and visions of future. Thoughts of family, housing, uni and work were exciting me. Possbilities were endless and the world was just a breath away.

This week, I feel lazy in a way. My world has shrunk to the size of my room. One little square room, with a bathroom at the side. And even that is beyond my stretch for a large part of the time.

They took the stent out of my throat last Tuesday. All looked well but they wanted me to stay in for monitoring. Today things have gotten harder. A lot harder. I have slept a lot the last few days, but today, I tried pushing myself. A shower, nearly wiped me out. I almost had to crawl to get out of the bathroom.

finding myself, sat on the floor of shower, gulping at the air like a fish out of water, tears sliding down my face, but I dare not cry, for that takes more oxygen. But its not enough evidence for me. I push myself further. A slow walk to the shop I convinced myself was a good idea. For it would be a measure against how I was just a few short days ago. Pain wasnt how I imagined it.

So I sleep through the night and right through the day. Stay awake for the evening, but as tiredness kicks in breathing becomes more noticeable. I can cope with breathless on movement, I can deal with that without to much fear. But as breathless on sitting becomes a thing, then my calm begins to fall.

My body tries to keep up. Keep everything stable, but the numbers soon show the strain on my heart. A pulse of 130 should only be seen during heavy exercise, never mind lying on my bed watching tv for 2 hours.

And yet, part me worries. What if they say its me, what if I am unfit, what if I have missed something. I fear that they will send me home. No I more so fear that they wont listen to me. I try to reassure myself, that they must listen, the numbers speak for themselves.

But then, we head towards harder ground. I have rid of my trach. I said never again, no matter what. And yet, I am have been here now for over a month. I miss my home comforts. Simple things, watching mum cook the tea. Talking to my tortoises, hugging my niece. Joking with my Dad, sitting in the sun. Home cooked food, roast dinners and real chips.

When will I see home again? And if the only way to see it, is with a trach, then where does my resolve lie?
I always knew this was going to be a tough surgery. I guess now is proving just how tough.

But onwards, always onwards. For tomorrow is a brand new day and I have no idea how that will go.

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