Tango

‘Months rather than years’ is a phrase I’ll be hearing a lot; it’s the default answer they will be able to give in terms of my prognosis. I keep asking them as I need to know.

The bleed isn’t doing much but the tumour is growing, so that’s why I’m getting worse. The leg, arm and pain received are the main things that get the brunt of everything; but I’m used to how things are, it would be strange if I felt normal again.

It’s getting harder to walk and I’ve started to use a chair…..well, get pushed around. It’s one of the final stages as it admits defeat to my  physical side; I just can’t manage more than a few hundred metres without having to stop or rest. I know it’s the best way, but it’s still a long way off where I should be.

Begin again

This weekend has been the worst one so far; I barely made it around the boot sale and Tamworth, no amount of pretending could disguise the fact that I’m deteriatorating massively. The same today in Birmingham, I can’t act anymore; the legs are on their way out it seems. I’ve been wobblier than before and it’s just a matter of time before I go over.

If I could start again, knowing what I do, there woukd be those who would be treated exactly as they have been and the story will remain the same. A whole host of people will never have been spoken to and even known of.

For the second day, a chair has been mentioned, so everyone else must be noticicing the walking. I swore that I wouldn’t go that route unless needs be….and it’s becoming that way.