This Time Last Year, I Was Dying…

This time last year, I was dying.

I still am, technically. I’ve had radiotherapy, brachytherapy, chemotherapy – and I still have my tumour and an enlarged left Common Iliac Lymph Node. But around about this time last year was when I realised that I needed to trust myself, trust how I felt, and trust that there was something seriously going wrong with my body no matter what one of my doctors would have had me think otherwise.

This time last year, I’d just started to bleed. I knew it was wrong but thought it was some weird part of being pregnant, of having a miscarriage, of something else being wrong. By September I was almost bed-ridden – unable to move for fear of leaving a trail, or falling over with the onset of dizziness, for being tired and weak. I laid in bed for weeks. For probably between twenty to twenty-two hours a day. I got up to eat, and to cuddle my son at bedtime, but that was it. I know now that I knew then that it was something serious. It’s just hard to convince yourself that you’re right when your doctor says you’re wrong.

I didn’t realise until I went into A&E at the hospital at the end of September how bad things really were. That my blood levels had dropped so significantly that I needed a double-transfusion. That the dizziness was because my blood wasn’t pumping to the right places. That my heart pounding wasn’t just my own panic, but that I had Tachycardia. I didn’t believe it until they put me on the drips and admitted me to the ward without any hesitation. If I hadn’t gone to the hospital, my heart would have failed without a doubt. I would have died in my bed, during the day, or during the night.

This time last year, I was dying.

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1 comment
  1. So glad your still here to write this, good luck 🙂

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