The Diagnosis

I’m hoping that like all the best filmography works that this is the finale, the end of the trilogy, in the time old tradition of a beginning, a middle and an end.

The middle episodes are almost universally held in highest regard. Full of plot twists, tragedy, cliffhangers, reveals, pulls on heartstrings, impending disaster, but also a tiny sliver of hope. Now in my sensational narrative several months has passed, life is merging back to a new normal and hope, trust and faith has started to creep back.

It was on this background of cautious optimism that the prickly electric shocks of nano-lightning started. It was so slight to start with that I wasn’t even sure it was true. Pushing it aside. I just got on with family life. But the acceleration to the all too familiar symptoms and signs was breathtaking. Unexpected unreal unbelievable – a whirlwind.

As the fatigue set in the ‘helpful’ comments started.

“It’s like you’re not even trying. You need to get up and stop feeling sorry for yourself”

“I get that you’re feeling pain and nausea and tired, but you need to make more of an effort. Just change your frame of mind.”

“Most of you is malignancy free so can’t you just pull yourself together. Don’t let it get to you”

“Have you tried to, I don’t know, thinking you don’t have it. How hard can it be? I feel like if you just do something and you just get up, it will be better”

Chapter Four