PAINT IT BLACK

I’ve always been fairly philosophical about my various health problems, so it came as some surprise when I sank into a sort of “black hole” one day last week. There I was, writing my blog, and this sudden wave of shadows flooded over me. I stopped writing and just sat staring at my laptop wondering why I was bothering. In fact, it quickly became obvious to me that there really was little point in bothering about anything. I started writing again; but stopped a second time and sat feeling angry with myself. What did I have to be depressed about compared to some people? Hate is too weak a word to express the emotions I experienced – I can only describe it as like riding a roller coaster, and tried to stand back and look at it objectively – only I couldn’t. Motivation to do anything flies out the window.

Damn everyone else – what was wrong with being concerned about my own problems?
I guess the discussion with my Haematology Consultant started it. What he said about repairing the hole in my heart made sense – chemotherapy affects all your blood cells, including your platelets, and warfarin plus low platelets is a recipe for bleeding big time.
Active Rheumatoid arthritis, the Protein C deficiency, Chronic Lymphocytic Leukaemia, a possible liver problem, and now? More waiting to hear from the Cardiologists. Even an operation is high risk because of the drugs/leukaemia combo.

The "sod life, the universe and everyone else" passed after about an hour, but it’s been a regular visitor since then. I sit and cry, see no point in anything, and I hate myself because, to me, it feels like self-pity. I’m fine in between, but never know when it will hit. I’ve never experienced depression in my life, and it is a ghastly, hideous feeling. This simply isn’t me – not my normal “me”. This is another me – a second me that appears out of the blackness – swoops down and brings the blackness with it – fills every corner of me with a darkness beyond the normal darkness of the darkest night.

I feel guilty about putting these thoughts on paper – well, on this virtual paper anyway. I’m sure many people who read my blog will think the same as I do right now – there’s people out there a lot worse than him. You’re right, there is.

I try to rationalise these emotions when I’m feeling fine – is it chemicals causing this to happen? Is it the result of circumstances? The human brain is one of the most complex mechanisms, and trying to analyse what is happening in someone else’s head, ( almost impossible at the best of times), is a whole lot easier than trying to analyse yourself.
No, I’m not going to the doctor. I know she looks upon me as a challenge, and we get on well; but no way am I taking any mind altering drugs – I even refuse to take Cocodamol for the pain because it screws my brain up. And if I go talk to her, what else can she do? I’m managing it OK for now. If it gets worse? Not something I am prepared to think about right now. I’ve become adept recently at switching off anything further ahead than the end of next week. The future is 9 o’clock Monday morning – when I’m feeling fine anyway. When I’m not? The word “future” is meaningless.

I’ve got that out the way now. Back to writing more readable stuff in the next blog I hope. Sorry folks.

See ya