Chronic Illness

Well, it’s been four months since I left Stanmore (the RNOH, Stanmore) where I spent three weeks on a rehabilitation programme, or perhaps ‘condition management programme’ would be more apt. I’m still processing the experience and trying to get my head around it. Strangely for me I haven’t, until now, written about it. It’s as

The young man that walks past me on the stairs, stops, walks back up and asks if he can help me. The doctor that asks me how I’m feeling rather then reviewing my symptom list. The bus driver that waits when he sees me hobbling along the road as he’s noticed my imploring looks as

September 5th 2015 There’s no denying it’s hard to feel appreciation for a life that isn’t the one I wanted. It’s hard to wholeheartedly embrace the life I have as it’s a million miles away from the one I dreamed I’d have. Yet it’s the one I’ve got, so losing myself in whimsical ‘what if’s’