I drag myself forward. It feels like my eyelids are scraping the floor when I walk.
Yesterday I went to the hospital to meet, again, a new appointed doctor, and to talk about my test result and the next following steps. I’m not quite sure if I like my new doctor. I’m getting so tired of doctors who don’t read up on the history before entering the conversation. This one didn’t even look at all. I had to point out that his colleague, whom I spoke to last week, was the one who send me to him. Last week I finally felt like I was taken serious, and heard. I left the hospital feeling much chipper, even though my body was still in pain. She even made it possible, I got this appointment so soon with this new doctor. So he could help me as quick as possible, seeing there already had passed three months with the same complaints, increasing each week.
But I was sadly disappointed with what seems to be the stereotype amongst doctors. Uninterested, dominant speaker leaving little room for asking questions, and keeping you dumb in not telling the specifics of the outcome. Just; ‘It all looks good. Still within the parameters.’ Trying my best to explain my medical history in stenography, he finally took a better look at things. So there will be a follow up. Over a little than three months from now, I will have an endoscopy. So I just will have to be a little more patient…..
I drove home in my mobility scooter, in the pouring rain. These were definitely not Mother nature’s tears of joy, but of sadness. I could feel the difference, as the raindrops were cold and hard. Instead of light and warm, as a summers rain ought to feel.
I started crying while I drove. I didn’t quite know why I cried. I eventually got what I wanted, so I should be happy. But I couldn’t care less. It was raining anyway, so nobody would see my tears in-between.
Boy, was I wrong. A rough, old, face marked by sun and salt of the sea looking fisherman, addressed me at the ferry. And he immediately made me smile. We talked during the cross-over. When we arrived at IJmuiden, I felt happy again. I am always amazed by what seems like coincidences, but is exactly the thing you need at that moment of time and place.
So when I came home, and cuddled Ramon, I could feel I could hold my breath a little while longer, without growing desperate, and bloody-minded.
When we woke up this morning, Ramon decided he too wanted to try to extend his limits. He wanted to go for a longer walk.
All the way to Amsterdam……
We would go by bus, and then walk to the artist store, to buy the canvas we didn’t buy two weeks ago in Haarlem. I thought it was a little too enthusiastic to try after only walking 1 mile at most the last few days. But, I know you have to find your own way and boundaries, to move forward. So, we went. It almost felt like going to a party. I was nervous, exited, proud and in love. Here we were, the best dynamic duo ever….at it again! And we did it. We were pooped when we got home, but we did it! I have ordered a canvas, and we drank a cup of coffee at a nice little coffee bar to celebrate.
The happier days are coming again, I can feel it!