Saturday 9th January 2016

2pm – Livid. Absolutely livid.

I am surprised that I didn’t come straight home on Thursday and document precisely how angry I was following my clinic visit at the hospital.

The doctor I saw is, apparently (remarkably), theĀ headĀ of gastro at my local hospital. The man was simply awful. He had not read a single page of my file beyond the first page which (incorrectly) stated that I have Crohn’s disease. So when he greeted me with “Alpha, is it? [Small talk with my dad, who was with me, about my name] So you have Crohn’s…”, I was instantly put in attack-mode.

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Thursday 17th December 2015 (I think)

8.40pm – losing my metaphorical sh*t

There I was thinking that people who have panic attacks are utter losers, when I found myself getting so wound up and upset this morning that I could feel my heart pounding out of my chest. And it hurt.

In between my best attempt at yogic breathing and chanting ‘hakuna matata’ in my head like Pumbaa on speed (to keep myself from boiling over), I spent much of the morning sobbing. To myself; over the phone; to the healthcare assistants; to the nurses.

The icing on the cake was when the doc who introduced herself as the ‘SHO’ (I googled this and it’s means she’s a junior doctor currently in training, at which stage I don’t know) and asked me if there was BLOOD IN MY POO!!!

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