I saw my doctor today for the first time since I got out of the hospital. He spoke very bluntly, saying things that I had suspected were true, so I'm not surprised. I just wanted to be wrong. Many years ago, I remember thinking that this thing, this polio thing was a death sentence, and everybody but me knew it, and nobody was telling. That one thought has haunted me for years.
I won't go into the gory details, because it gets a little complicated. I have to have some more tests in a few weeks, but good Lord, why bother? The doctor said, my situation is never going to get better, that everything was being done that could be done, and if the day ever comes ( and it will, I'm told) that the BiPAP machine isn't enough to support my breathing, the only other option left is to have a tracheostomy and be put on a respirator.
See why I wanted to be wrong? All I want to do is crawl off in the corner and cry. I feel like I was told, things are crappy, they're going to get crappier, and then you'll die. I'm angry, and I don't know who to be angry with. I wanted to punch the doctor, and then I wanted to punch B (B deserves it -- God, he pissed me off!) Mostly I just wanted them to just shut up. Talking about me like I'm not even in the same room. Jerks. God, the anger feels good.
I feel like my life is over. My heart and my mind are whole and healthy, and in time, I'm sure I will appreciate that fact once again. If you got this far reading this whiny mess, thanks for listening.
