My Incredible Journey Part Eight: My Bobby Ewing Moment

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.

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