Tuesday, 9 October 2007
Light at the end of the tunnel
I used to think that it wasn't a light I saw at the end of the tunnel, but a train speeding toward me instead.
Five months after he died I though I was doing really well and conquering grief. One year after he died I felt as though it had only just happened and that I'd been in some sort of time warp.
Eighteen months after he died I began to think of finding work, hobbies, friends, but a couple of months later I was back in the depth of despair and just wanted to curl up and die. When was it going to end? Was this normal? Perhaps I was depressed as well as grieving.
I'd seen various doctors about my continued fainting episodes and had all sorts of tests done; all knew that I was recently widowed but all they said was "how're you doing?" To which I could only murmur, "Okay", not wishing to even begin talking about it for fear of collapsing in tears in front of them. I suggested to one GP when discussing more results that returned absolutely normal, that could it be some sort of anxiety attack that makes me faint? She shook her head and said "Not unless you're having palpitations as well." Which I didn't remember at the time, but later I realised that yes, I had felt palpitations as well as feeling faint - then promptly fainted; several times.
Mind you, I have fainted several times in my life-time, often hurting myself, smashing teeth, bruising and banging various bones and my head in the process. My blood pressure seems to dip abnormally low at odd times, hence the fainting. If only I could do it gracefully.
Now, two years and one month after he died, I do see light at the end of the tunnel, which some days is brighter than others. And, just when I'm feeling okay and positive about me, life and my future, I receive a phone call to go into hospital this afternoon for another breast scan.
Is a train speeding towards me after all?