Changing expectations

When I stopped writing yesterday I was so uncomfortable that I decided to try and sort out my bowels, I have suppositories in the house but using them by myself to date had been some what comical, but I felt I had no choice but to try. I am not going to paint a picture but it is enough to say that it took rather a long time and so many attempts that my arms didn’t want to cooperate with anything for ages afterwards. I sat here for over an hour with no effect that I could feel, standing up showed a different set of effects. I was in and out of the loo over the next couple of hours, with little actual relief and I am still not convinced that there was anything like the desired effect. Adam and I spoke about it last night, I discovered that he, like me, felt that the hospital has totally failed in helping at all. Despite all the visits we attended together we are no closer to knowing how I live with or even what I need to do, to relieve the situation. That to me is the biggest disappointment of my recent meeting with the NHS, all those trips to the hospital that destroyed my health for days, have been totally pointless, and at the end of it they told me, what I told them at the start. So here I am again with internal spasms, admittedly they aren’t as bad as they were, but bad enough for my meds to not be able to cover them over. Because I have had some success I am not calling the doctor about it, I am going to give it a few more days and see how things go, I don’t actually think the doctor would be able to help anyway.

The longer you are ill the more and more I think your faith in the medical profession becomes tainted. I still think they are the most likely ones to be able to do anything to help if they can, and I still believe that if they can’t help, no one else can. What has changed is that I now expect them to be unable to help, I tell them what is wrong in case they can help, but my expectations are always low. I would expect to hear the same from most chronically ill people, although the medics try to help, and most show the greatest care and attention, over time our expectations change. If you sit in a waiting room in any hospital I think it is easy to actually see the people who have come to the same conclusion as I have. Look around you and those who look worried or anxious are those at the start of the process, they are the ones who are there for their first or second appointment, still with belief and faith at a high level. Then there are those who are looking rather bored, some who are actually falling asleep, they are there just going through the process, no expectations, just there because they have an appointment. After my most recent visit to their shiny new hospital, I couldn’t help but wonder how much money could be saved if GP’s where honest at the start and just said medicine can’t do anything to help you, rather than went through the slope shoulder action, passing you along the ladder so that someone else can say the words.

I am getting tired, today seems to be a slightly sleepy day but I have things to still do, so it isn’t an option yet. I am just waiting for the doorbell to go as it is shopping day, I just hope that it is the nice guy again as I really couldn’t be bothered with one of the grumpy ones today. My arms aren’t up to much this morning either so having to move heavy shopping just because my simple request of putting it on the hallway floor seems to be a step to far for their intelligence to realise I have to be able to walk round it, rather than tip toe through an obstacle course. So fingers crossed.