Talking shorthand

Although I won’t be attending I have received the invitation to Teressa’s wedding and it shows one of the few things that her Father and I ever had in common, the invitation is a card version of the Tardis. She may have spent the majority of her life abroad but her love of Dr. Who and all other Sci-fi is totally clear in most things she does. The date is set for the 24th of January and I realised a couple of days ago I now have a date to open the bottle of Champagne that I have had in my fridge for the last two years, I will at least be able to raise a glass to her and John on their day.

Compared to this point last week I feel so different, I knew that I would settle again but I didn’t realise just how much I had been carrying around inside myself, partially hidden even from myself. Although I knew all that spilled out I had engineered everything so that I didn’t have to face it and if Teressa hadn’t visited I would still have it all nicely confined. I actually think that my first visit to the hospital was when I scratched at the surface but that visit didn’t last that long and I shuffled myself back into hiding. I think letting it all out is why I found my return visit easier and that I managed I think to get the details across to the doctor in a more complete manor. Yesterday evening I suddenly realised that my speech patterns now are almost a shorthand version of talking, I skip words and say what is enough needed to be understood, if it isn’t then I get into a spin and try again but saying the same words as if by repeating them, they will make them understood, pointless but it’s what I am doing for some reason. The strange thing is I don’t actually remember when I went from the odd stutter and slur to talking in riddles with a mess of sound within it. I know see why Adam gets annoyed with me at times, as he is having to decipher all of it, making it less of a conversation as there is only one person doing the work, I am taking the easy way out and just not really talking. Actually I am being a bit hard on myself, as that sounds as though I am doing it by choice and choice doesn’t come into it, I don’t have any.

I seem to be swaying back and forward between feeling great, elated as there is this huge weight off of me and feeling like I could sleep for ever and there is no where on earth that I would rather be than bed. I am somewhat drained I know that, but I have a few weeks ahead of me to recharge before the next thing happening for me to get through. I don’t have a date for the Endoscopy, but I expect it will be a couple of weeks away. I have recieved the appointment from the Breast Screening Clinic, this does look as though it is going to be one huge problem. They hold the screening right in the middle of Glasgow and they make a point of saying that if you use a wheelchair or have mobility problem to let them know. I know the building they use in Nelson Mandela Place and it is not disabled friendly in any way. This is going to be what I would call interesting. One of the first entry on the to do list as I have to phone them on Monday.

Having spent 5yrs here in my flat seeing no one and not having to deal with people I feel some how under attack by the NHS, on top of the two appointments I have mentioned already, I am also waiting for an appointment for the pain clinic, a visit from the OT and to be honest, it is all really too much all at one time. I know all of it is for my own good and that I wouldn’t have even mentioned all of this to anyone as even important in anyway a few years ago, now it just feels really daunting. I suppose these feelings are all part of my slide down the slope, but like screaming “I am in here”, this makes me want to scream “leave me alone”.