This is the third part of my guest serial, in 675 words.
Instantly, I felt sick to my stomach.
So many questions were running through my head, “Is it a brain tumour? Am I dying? How long have I got left?” and many more. It was difficult to try and be positive.
I barely spoke to Ewan or Mum over the next couple of days. I even struggle to this very day to explain how I felt. Even though the days leading up to the appointment were a blur, the world just felt very still. This was a completely new level of isolation, it was horrible.
Even Ewan said to Mum, “This isn’t looking good, is it?”
I remember the night before my appointment, I was lying in bed with Ewan, crying. He didn’t know what to say, instead he just comforted and cuddled me. I cried myself to sleep.
I tried to eat two slices of toast, but I felt too nauseous to eat. Ewan cuddled, and kissed me before I got in the car. My head was telling me that this was goodbye.
Mum drove me to King’s Lynn hospital; I was quiet the entire journey. Thankfully, we arrived with time to spare, this meant I could take my time with walking and not put myself at risk by trying to walk faster. Understandably, for a Saturday morning, the waiting room was empty. We sat outside the room I was going to be seen in, and I placed my head in my hands.
I wanted to lash out and scold myself because I was incredibly frustrated. No doubt, whatever was wrong, would be my fault. Everything always was my fault.
The door opened, and a tall man called my name. Mum tapped on my arm to get my attention, I felt like I couldn’t breathe when I walked into the room, “I’m going to be told the worst”, I convinced myself. Given the circumstances, it was easier to think negatively.
We sat down and the man introduced himself, he was a neurologist. He asked about my symptoms, when did they start, how often do they occur, etc. He was confused as to how I could only understand what Mum was saying, and not him – to be honest, I was confused too. It was easier for me if he spoke to Mum directly as I was getting more upset and frustrated with not being able to hear.
Mum turned to me and said, “Right, the results of your MRI…”
Before she carried on, I thought, “This isn’t right, how can a mother tell her daughter bad news like this?”. She continued, “…is clear and there’s nothing to show a TIA”. I felt like I was going to explode with relief. I was in shock; I really thought the worst.
The neurologist told Mum that he would see me in 2 months to check up on my symptoms. One thing he did say was that, apparently, a lot of females my age, experience a phase of hearing difficulties which is caused by stress.
We left and headed to the car. I cried all the way home, because of relief and frustration. I was still left not knowing what was causing all this. But this appointment, it was just the beginning of numerous appointments.
In May, I had my first hearing test. Wearing a set of headphones, I had to press a button when I heard a noise, which was at different levels (high pitch, low pitch). Then a follow-up appointment was booked with an ENT Consultant. That quickly come around and I was diagnosed with Bilateral Hearing Loss. Yet, no further forward as to what had caused it.
Also, in May, I had to attend a medical to be assessed on whether I was fit to work. The assessor asked me about my Sales Assistant role and what duties I had. After she assessed me, she tried finding a role that I could safely do before giving me the news that I was no longer fit to work.
This broke me.
I’m hoping for some positive news soon. Do you see these posts the same day we are, Pete, or do you already know the entire story?
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I don’t know all the details, Pete, though I do know the writer. I am following along with you as I receive the posts each day.
Best wishes, Pete.
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Once again, I can completely relate. I still haven’t gotten over having to go on disability/early retirement from the library.😔
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Thanks, Kim. I am glad you can relate to this story.
Best wishes, Pete.
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A medical mystery, do we have enough clues to solve it? Warmest regards, Theo
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I’m guessing it will be solved in time, Theo.
Best wishes, Pete.
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“It will be solved” is not the same as we having enough clues to solve it, 🙂 Warmest regards, Theo
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Can she be redeployed? When I couldn’t speak 15 years ago I was given another job at the hospital which was more suitable, which strangely enough was the job I’d always wanted in the first place!
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I expect we will find out more tomorrow, Stevie.
Best wishes, Pete.
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That’s an absolute heartbreaker at the end
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Yes, I could feel that pain.
Best wishes, Pete.
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