I haven’t written much lately. My heart, and head have not been in it. I have now spent over 7 months lied in bed staring at the bedroom walls and it is starting to weigh me down. 16 months in excruciating pain and I don’t feel sexy or attractive, so writing about that would be difficult. Inactivity and some poor eating habits have also caused weight gain that has me avoiding mirrors again. 99% of my clothes do not fit. I have 3 nighties, 3 sets of pyjamas, 1 dress, 2 tops and 2 pairs of leggings…. None of my lingerie sets fit, and I have had to buy some new knickers. I spend most days not wearing a bra- what’s the point I am in bed. I have resisted writing about these struggles because I don’t want to seem like a whiney arse, but in truth, it’s how I feel. I am stuck behind a closed door and life is going on without me.
I feel like I have been taken prisoner by pain. Yeah, sounds overly dramatic, but it is. Those of you who are coming out of lockdown, spare a thought for those, like me, who aren’t. While you meet friends at the pub or in restaurants, remember there are some who are still stuck at home. I am self isolating as I have the diagnostic procedure booked for the 29th July and they are asking patients to self isolate for 14 days prior to hospital visits where possible. Of course this does mean that there is some movement in getting the treatment I ultimately need, but, my appointment with the consultant (the one where we will discuss the next step) is in October, and that means any agreed treatment would be December or January, and that is assuming that there isn’t a second wave.
It is possible that this procedure may provide some longer term pain relief but, when I last had a diagnostic procedure done I was pain free for 3 days, then it came back and I am not holding out hope. I would rather be pleasantly surprised than bitterly disappointed.
All this has impacted on our sex life too. If I don’t feel attractive, if I can’t look in the mirror, why would Mr. H find me attractive? I want him to to hold me, but then I think I must feel disgusting. I try to stop myself from feeling like a chore to be taken care of, but most of the time I fail. Walking to the bathroom hurts so much I could cry, and having a shower takes extra morphine.
I am sick and tired of feeling useless, of being in pain, and I really do not like what the mirror is showing me right now. Mr. H took some photos with our new camera (on Auto mode) when we first got it and I haven’t shared many because they show the tummy fat I have, but I have pushed myself to do just that today, as a way to face the fear and unhappiness.
This post is linked to Wicked Wednesday #425 ‘Closed Doors’. You can click HERE to read more posts linked to the topic and also to the new Tell Me About project Monochromerotic, click the name to see more.