Change

At my next appointment at the hospital it was decided that there would be no more injections, there was a lot less blood and fluid behind the retina and although my sight had deteriorated slightly again the actual eye was looking healthy after the trauma of my last visit. we talked for some time about trying to improve the sight in my left eye but eventually the Doctor decided to leave it alone, explaining that all treatments carry a element of risk, if something were to go wrong and I loose the sight I have in that eye, well, basically I would be in real trouble. He sits and reads through my notes, doing that scratching his chin thing that blokes do when they really need to tell you something but they are not quite sure how you are going to take it......'I think its time we moved you on a bit'.....Errrr okay.....' well, get you more support, you know, for the future'........mmmmm, spit it out fella.......The Doctor produces a form, scribbles some stuff on it, hands it to me and points me in the direction of the RNIB. In a little room near the entrance of the hospital I found two lovely, kind and chatty ladies who helped me through the transition from being someone who was receiving treatment to someone who the treatment could no longer help, so I was going under the label of being registered blind.
If I am honest, I don't really remember much about that day, funny how your brain blocks out the memories you don't want, a lot of the time I remember hearing voices, but not taking in what they were saying, I just wanted to go home and do all this stuff another day! The ladies were fab, they soldered on, pushing forms in front of me and saying 'sign on my finger my dear!' I numbly did as I was told, the pile of paperwork beside me was getting bigger and bigger, I was exhausted both mentally and physically, I had reached the point where I wanted to bury my head in the sand until it all went away, but it wasn't going away and I had to face it like a grown up. As we made our way home that day with my leaflets for various organisations and support groups, my list of people I must see and the people who I should see, its hard to explain the emotions I was feeling...walking out of the hospital I felt a huge sense of grief, the heavy feeling in your chest and the selfish feeling you get when you think no-one in the world will ever understand how devastated you feel, and why? Because I had been given a label? because there was nothing more that could be done? A feeling of loss because I wouldn't be part of the buzz that I got when I was at moorfields and the hope that everything will be ok? The fear of losing the closeness I had built up with my Mum over the frequent visits to the hospital? Or just stupid dumb boring old CHANGE?....one minute I was part of a massive familiar procedure, there was a bank of people, Doctors, nurses, professionals, other patients, cleaners, the lady who brought the tea around, this group of people were my security blanket and suddenly it was gone...come back if anything changes, I know its all still there when I need it, but I felt like I was on my own.
While we waited for the connecting train at Finsbury park, I re evaluated my situation, I am not dying, I have two beautiful children, My Mum will always be there how ever much I piss her off, I still have and can work. I looked around at all the other people moving around on the platform and realised I was in London...I have been coming to London all this time, and yet I haven't seen any of it...bugger that, its time things did change, for the better, I then made a mental note to live life to its fullest, pack as much in as I can, remain as independent as I can and make my decisions MY decisions........