This is the fourth part of my guest serial, in 665 words.

Eye appointments began in June. Initially, I saw an Optometrist who carried out a few in-depth tests (I can’t remember the correct names of them, sorry!), but the results did not show anything so he referred me to an Ophthalmologist. It was also in June that I began bleeding daily, I never knew when I was on my period anymore. I was in no pain or discomfort which worried me so I asked to see my GP who told me to keep a diary of the bleeding and come back in a fortnight.

I had never heard of so many different ‘ologists’!

On the 13th of June, I attended a meeting with my Manager and Area Manager, along with Mum who relayed everything to me. Mum updated them on all of the upcoming appointments and that there was no improvement with regards to my symptoms. They dismissed me.

Could my life really get any worse?

The Ophthalmologist wanted more tests to be done, but this would mean a referral to a specialised eye hospital. This was when I first learned of Moorfields Eye Hospital in London, and the waiting list was long.

I went back to my GP to show my diary, she examined me, took some swabs and arranged for a follow-up appointment in a week or two to discuss the results and where to go from there.

A kind woman offered to pay for me to go to the private Moorfields Hospital, and with how fast my vision was deteriorating, I accepted. An appointment was made for 17th August.

Mum and I had to leave between 3am and 4am to get the train, my appointment was at 9am and didn’t want to chance any delays. The walk to the entrance of King’s Cross seemed like it had taken forever. I really struggled and the more I tried, the more it was affecting my balance. All I could do was hold on to Mum’s arm.

After a while, we eventually found the private clinic. The next few hours consisted of a variety of assessments and in-depth tests, and then I was to see a consultant at the end of my appointment. She was really lovely and took her time to help me understand everything she was doing. After a few tests, she discovered my Optic Nerve was pale, and again, more tests needed to be done.

Mum told the Consultant that I had been referred to the main Moorfields Eye Hospital and was on the waiting list, she then sent another referral to request if I could be seen any sooner. That’s all she could do for me, she wished she could have done more for me after seeing how upset and frustrated I was.

The walk back to the platform seemed to take twice as long as the first time round. Within seconds of settling into my seat on the train, I was asleep.

A week or so later, I received an appointment at the main Moorfields Eye Hospital for the 3rd of November to see a Professor. I never thought all of this would get so complicated.

Again, I went back to my GP to find out the results from the swabs, thankfully they were all negative. So, she referred me for an Ultrasound and an internal scan.

By this point, I had more referrals than I had hot dinners during my years at school!

At the beginning of September, my walking was deteriorating rapidly, I couldn’t do anything myself, I couldn’t go to the toilet without assistance, or using a shower. I could no longer hold a cup without dropping it or spilling the drink. My hearing difficulties were driving me insane, as were my ‘blind spots’. The bleeding continued and my mental health took a bad turn.

The moment I hit rock bottom, was when I became wheelchair bound. I’m not going to lie, I was suicidal. Was this really my life now?

Things couldn’t possibly get any worse, right?