Things are mostly getting worse.
My neurologist referral has stalled, with my symptoms degrading further, so I reached out to my GP last week to expedite the next step. Despite a separate optician appointment confirming my blurred vision isn’t just a sudden change of prescription, I still need to know what’s wrong with that and the rest.
To that end, I was advised to go to the local hospital’s Accident and Emergency department in the hope of escalating my case to someone who could help.
It was a challenge, not least my reluctance to divert resources from more deserving patients. Unable to drive further than a few miles now, I had to push myself via patchy public transport to get to Pontefract – failing the first day from fatigue after scheduled buses failed to arrive.
The second day fared better, escaping the village on an unexpected route after my intended one failed again; then bounced from Pontefract via transfer bus to Wakefield’s Pinderfields Hospital. With an expected six hour waiting time, I settled in as best as I could with all the grace and humility I could muster.
Finally reaching triage and then the on-site doctor, I stumbled and stammered over my symptoms, struggling with basic sentences. Although I could not see a neurologist after all, I was at least prescribed some medication to ease the worst of the pain. Tablets sufficient to knock me out overnight and well into the day.
Although travelling solo by necessity, I am thankful for the friends who kept me company by text. Where some have distanced themselves from my plight, others have stepped up to check in on me repeatedly, offering kindness and compassion from afar. Even if my lack of coherence has made it difficult to return their messages.
It took another three nights under the medication before focus briefly reemerged, granting respite to anticipate the next few weeks.
It shames me to not complete my degree as intended, although the effort I’ve put in to creep towards a Distinction has proved my ability to do the work. Instead I’ve been told I may still pass, but ungraded, which still feels unearned despite valid circumstances.
It hurts especially to be outside campus right now, as everyone works so hard on their end of year projects and events. This final flurry of excitement and group camaraderie denied as I become increasingly distant and unnecessary. Nor can I pursue career and work opportunities now emerging for graduates. Shut out by nature of my mind, unable to return just yet.
I look to creativity, having received footage from both my CT scan and previous term’s video project to work on, but I remain locked in the limbo of uncertainty.
Beyond myself, I feel for those of the Alm who have faced such terrible tragedy in recent weeks. Barth’s sudden passing was a raw and painful shock to all, and although this year’s House of the Holy will still continue, I honestly don’t know if I will be able to show my respects in person.
I have two weeks to confirm attendance, hoping my referral comes through in time to determine whether I am well enough. The pills are a stopgap, and I need to know what’s amiss before I can plan what happens next. I have done what I can and more to get back on the right track, but I must now wait for the process.
And the world still moves on without me.