I’m lying on the sofa under a blanket, deliciously warm, listening to the homely noises of creaking pipes and wind in the chimney. I have all the lights off, except for those on our Christmas tree – magical.
It was decided that my hospital visit should be delayed until the New Year. This gives time for preparation, both on their part and on mine (although I doubt they will ever be ready for me, nor I them!).
I had another London appointment during which I was told that my heart rate is still too fast (which I knew), and that despite being on medication to boost my blood pressure, this was also too low. I have been home for just over a week. Each time I go to London for my appointments I find the effort and experience rather traumatic. It takes a while to recover, which I have been doing.
I have received various emails and letters about my upcoming hospitalisation, and each one has sent me worrying and fretting about what will happen – I haven’t been sleeping particularly well as a result.
I am very tired now, and very keen to let this year come to an end. BUT (and this is a big but), this year my excitement for Christmas is unparalleled to previous years. The Christmas spirit has never been something I have to find, it’s ingrained inside and kicks in about mid-August, steadily building until the big day.
This is very strange. I feel like my illness is coming to a crescendo, where treatment plans are being drawn up and it’s sort of now-or-never, all of which is quite frightening. Yet I’ve also managed to retain my Christmas cheer, this year more so than ever.
I think this may be the final lesson of many I have learnt in 2012:
It’s possible to not be okay, yet still be okay at the same time.
It acts almost like an equation. The roughest year of my life plus a little bit of happiness each day cancels out the negatives (and admittedly sometimes the positives), rendering myself ‘okay’ at the end.
I still laugh (a lot), my friends, family and boyfriend are still by my side and I’m still reverted to a child-like state around Christmas. I therefore know I will continue to be ‘okay’, and in the absence of being great, being okay is everything I really want for Christmas.
Lola and I wish you all a very happy, healthy, wonderful Christmas. x