Beginning to feel depressed

Thank you for all the many e-mails, folks. Forgive me that I’m unable to answer them all individually. That would almost be a full-time job. Nevertheless, your messages are always much appreciated.
Thursday afternoon, and if I’m perfectly honest, I’ve never felt quite so ill and lifeless.

It seems that as beautiful as it is here at the clinic, there are limitations to what the medical staff can do compared with their colleagues at the hospital. I am still suffering from acute diarrhoea – I’m scared of being more than 5 yards away from the loo. Whatever nourishment they pump into me, practically none of it gets processed by the body – it just gets swept out again in no time at all. The doctor in charge of my case here is fully aware of the problem and so are all the nurses, but no-one has yet come up with a solution.

That obviously influences everything else. I have quite a heavy programme every day of breathing exercises and physiotherapy as well as speech training. This afternoon, I was on a training bike in the gym for 10 minutes, 8 of which were uncomfortable because I needed to go to the loo again. Being short of nourishment, I’m losing weight at alarming speed and have absolutely no energy at all. I could just stay in bed and sleep most of the time.

The nurses are all doing their best, I suppose, but I still resent the complete lack of privacy. They just barge through the door whenever they feel like it, and that’s numerous times throughout the day and night.

Isn’t it strange how all female nurses have a voice like Tinkerbell? All sweetness and light, but I often wish they’d just shut up. I mean yesterday, three of them were dealing with my other major problem – the stoma which leaks almost every time it’s replaced. They were all jabbering, not so much to each other but to themselves, or possibly me. I honestly don’t need a running commentary every time my medication is switched or the water supply (1.4 litres a day) is hung on the frame. They should just get on with it, but that doesn’t seem to be the style here.

In summary, I’m extremely down about the whole thing. Had I known what was going to be entailed, I’m really not sure that I would still have opted for the operation in the first place. I expected everything to be sorted out by now. The thought that there’s probably another month to go before the second operation takes place and I’m in intensive care doesn’t bear thinking about. I have always loathed having people fuss around me. Here, I’ve got no choice. They make me feel like a 90-year-old and it’s really getting to me now.