8 September 2006

I saw Dr Raj this morning. He was fantastic, as always. He was really positive, he doesn’t believe it is anything serious, but doesn’t know what it is. He smiled when he said that I should perhaps feel better knowing that it didn’t seem to be any identifiable serious illness, and I disagreed. I told him the worst thing is knowing how I feel and yet having no resolution. If I knew it was going to be like this forever (he dismissed that firmly) or would get progressively worse (similar dismissal) or even that it would progressively (or even suddenly) get better, then I could figure out what to do with my life. As it is, I feel totally in limbo.

He is referring me to a neurologist but said it’s a long wait, but he’ll do what he can to hasten it. I’m quite positive about that as I know he has contacts with neurologists and a lot of his referrals will go private, so he maybe has a few favours to call in. I’ll have to wait and see.

I talked to him about my emotions – that every time I focus on it or talk about it that I have difficulty with tears (which, of course, I did with him too. I continue to make his surgery damp when I go there). He’s given me some tablets (not checked them out yet, but I think they may be similar to ones I had before for depression) to help with that.

He asked me how things are with the boys, did I see them regularly because he knows what a devoted family person I am (I guess all the to-ing and fro-ing when Charlie was small was noted), and clearly knows about my situation. Knows I live alone in Beckenham but clearly has no issue with that even though I’m outside his area, but confirmed my mobile number, so I guess that means he wants to be able to contact me direct rather than via Liz. You know, I really have the most awesome GP. Anyway, I said yep, I see the boys on alternate weekends, and absolutely no problems there. Did I have financial worries? Only if this stops me working, but otherwise nope.

I was going to ask him if he thought gym was a good or bad idea, but I didn’t bother in the end. This is a fatigued *feeling* in my muscles rather than real fatigue (since a fit person can’t actually fatigue his muscles by climbing a flight of stairs) and there’s no reason not to gym it. In fact, I mentioned I’d been about a month ago and no problems, and he made no comment, so I’ll just get on with it. Amazing how one person saying the right things at the right time makes such a difference, gives me a little confidence boost and overcomes my negativity.

There is a curious side to all this. My dad took me to the doctor, as it’s a pig to get to the surgery then straight to work as the only way to get there is by car, and I was chatting to him all the way to the station afterwards, and I had no problems with tears. It seems only when I’m totally honest with people about how grim I feel about it all that it gets to me. Talking about in matter of fact terms seems to be fine. So the doctor gets my tears but others just get a fairly factual report of my symptoms. Which is probably just as well.

Though last weekend with the boys was tricky. I was having to try to get James to be realistic about what I can do with them. I was trying to explain that I didn’t think I could cope with trekking up to Niketown on Saturday and then to the Emirates stadium on Sunday and he kept pushing about it. In the end, I was almost in tears I was so frustrated at not being able to get it through to him, but also not being able to do what was perfectly sensible and reasonable. I felt really bad as I know the boys are worried from the bit that they do know, and I really don’t want them to fret. But I did get James to help by folding his bed down, and Charlie was an absolute treasure doing bits and pieces (or I think he was, though I couldn’t be specific. It’s tough to say when the weekend seems a blur). I suppose I normally let them get away without doing much; maybe that needs to change so they get a bit more self-reliant.

So, the upshot is that I’m more positive. Hopefully the drugs will help me deal with the emotions while the rest runs its course. And I have challenges ahead. Get back to the gym and get started on my MSc. Life isn’t easy, but it’s still good. Fingers crossed it stays that way. There’s a lot that could still fall apart, but I’m hopeful.

Actually, a bit of an update, I’m quite chuffed. Or I would be if I didn’t feel quite so crap. Dr Raj is a GP of goodness knows how many years’ experience (and, I might add, again, a very good one). I think he’s been my GP for 20+, maybe 25 years. And he doesn’t have any idea what it might be. I think that’s pretty cool. Or it means it’s some rare condition that nobody has seen before outside of Equatorial Africa, which is known to disable entire tribes once every 250 years. But, in truth, that seems a little unlikely.