Looking at myself in photos now is an oddly jarring experience. I desperately fight my way through each day, wading through deep treacle barely keeping my head above the surface. I must look completely awful, my face and body showing just how shattered I feel.
And then I see a photo of myself from that day and I look..normal.
In a way it’s great that what’s happening inside doesn’t always show, but sometimes I wish it did. Maybe people would be a bit more understanding, sympathetic, and there’d be less of the ‘You really don’t look sick at all’ type of comments.
I know people mean well when they say those things, but it always feels a bit undermining. My body is fighting a war with itself – what difference does it make if I don’t look sick? I guess it makes it easier for them if they can’t see what’s happening.
My referral to meet with a surgeon (set for mid-June) arrived in the mail today – I have a lot of soul searching to do before then, because I’m still convinced I don’t want to go down that path…