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A horrid hospital appointment…

Yesterday afternoon, late, I had an appointment with a consultant of respiratory problems. It was a very unpleasant experience, not least because of the doctor’s manner.

I think he made assumptions as soon as I walked in to the room. He didn’t want to hear anything I had to say. He just summed everything up by how my chest looks now, nothing about the last five years.

I left the hospital feeling despair. I’m lined up for tests I will not be able to tolerate. The consultant dismissed my problems with a patronising and ignorant comment. I mean ignorant as in dismissive, lacking knowledge and understanding.

I got home and made a phone appointment with my GP. Then my daughter and I had a terrible row, and I ended up drinking a glass of wine, completely unable to relax. I watched the fireworks from my window, boats were blowing their horns. I responded to one text only.

I don’t know what time I awoke this morning, I dozed. I’ve ignored texts and messages. I know I’ve blown it with my daughter, although she doesn’t exactly smell of roses just now either.

I don’t know why I am so down. I was confronted by how ugly my body is yet again. I wish I had never survived the four brain surgeries. No doctor understands anything about my condition. I married the wrong man. I have failed as a mother. I feel so surplus to requirements, so useless and unknown.

I am in a very dark place right now.

By Chrisssie Morris Brady

I've read poetry since I was nine and have written creatively since I was fourteen (probably long before that). After writing book reviews and social comment, I decided I wanted to write poetry. I have no formal training, but I surround myself with poets and their writing. I am honing my craft.
I have two published collections which I don't feel good about, but have been published by madswirl.com and other publications. I live on the south coast of England with my daughter. I am seriously ill.

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