Admitting defeat

is not something I do.

Today, I actually responded to a colleague with brutal honesty, to the innocent question of "Have you had a good holiday". It felt strangely liberating to admit that I haven't, that I have been (and continue to be) in a very very dark place, where the lack of answers and therefore the lack of solutions, is gnawing away at me and is making me feel desperately bad. I also admitted that my coping mechanism has been to utterly bury myself in work, which means that by doing so, I am not going back to work on Wednesday feeling in the slightest bit rested. On top of my work, almost, but rested, no. I don't feel whole - which is why you get a partial self portrait tonight (the little white dots on my eyes are the two halogen spotlights that were above my head when I took the shot - they aren't superimposed)

You can imagine that when it took me half an hour to find a parking space at the hospital, which actually meant parking outside of the hospital on the other side of the grounds, giving myself 7 minutes to walk all the way to the ultrasound unit, having consumed just over 2 pints of water as per instructions, I was thrilled.

My joy was compounded further by having to wait for 25 minutes past my appointment time to have the scan. Which was painful (due to required water consumption and other factors) and resulted in the following two phrases
"Well, there doesn't appear to be anything untoward"...followed swiftly by "but ultrasound doesn't always pick everything up".
Back to the doctors in 2 weeks for results - I realise that even if there was anything the sonographer isn't allowed to discuss it. I know this from my scan for gallstones 6 year ago - we could both clearly see the four very large stones but she wouldn't actually say "yes, you have gallstones". Rules. I know they are there to protect the medics, and rightly so, but today, I felt like I needed a bit more interaction.

So, I am left none the wiser, perhaps a little more in the dark than before, with the only certain knowledge that this is going to continue now until after Christmas because of the speed at which the system works.

I really do want to cry, but the tears won't come. I can't let them because that would be another little bit of control gone and I can't have that. Particularly as I don't need James and Corin worrying about me more than they already are. The mask is on, it is set and it isn't moving.

At least Corin and I have had an hour out together this evening for tea. Which was lovely. Poor man - I don't think he knows quite what to do with me.

Tomorrow, the last day of my 'holiday' I am going into work for a couple of hours to get ready for Wednesday, then I am going to have coffee and cake and a read, then I am going for 75 minutes of indian head massage and reflexology in the hope that it might help me to let go.

Otherwise, there's always housework, coursework and spreadsheets, right?