Now it’s Saturday lunchtime. I came home last night. The test for a blood clot came back all clear, so it was option two: the remnants of an infection that had irritated my lungs (all my health problems last year have left them vulnerable still to such things). My temperature was back to normal & the pain had somewhat subsided. Armed with tablets, I was free to go.
I am relieved that it was not something as serious as a clot. I am also relieved that it was not something with as many long-term implications as a clot. Although I am pleased & proud of my mood control & chipper Blitz spirit while in hospital, I did not relish the idea of another summer marked by illness & treatments. Even I’m bored of my own ill health, let alone how my friends & family must feel.
Furthermore, I am tired, so tired, of feeling that I’m defined by – & my life is dominated – by events that are outside of my control. Sometimes I feel that my whole adult life has been characterised, implicitly or explicitly, by external events. I want a life of my own wrestled free from the control of others & other goings-on. I want a life of my own on my own terms, not labels like ‘ill’ or – even worse – ‘hypochondriac’ & ‘victim’.
As I look out of my window at my usual view, & look around the room at my possessions, all in their usual place, my incredible journey over the last few days feels like a long way away. It seems surreal, as if it never happened or was just a dream. I have woken up, back in my everyday life. If I didn’t have a pile of tablets & a hospital wristband, I’d never realise I’d been on a journey at all.