Before I begin, I'd just like to point out that I am fully aware that there are people who have it worse than I do. But those people don't live MY life do they? They're not waking up in my body with their things on my mind. Selfush? Yes. About bloody time.
So today was another trip to the physio. Since October 2011, it's been a regular fixtur and it doesn't look like one that's set to change. This bloody arm and the poxy nerves inside it are NOT being helped along by stress, life, or anything else being thrown my way. As it happens, the pins and needles/ recurrign numbness that's now featuring down my left hand side as well isn';t "just stress". I have not only buggered my arm, I've done my neck apparently. AS IF. Who knows how long it's going to take to get better, if it does, and who knows what else could be affected by it. And STILL I am entitled to NO HELP from Uni whatsoever.
I could use a series of 4-letter words to describe how I feel but what's the point? I'm angry, I'm upset, I'm confused, but what's the point in getting worked up over something I can do nothing about except pop a new sort of painkillers? Yay, more painkillers. How about stopping the painkillers and actually DOING SOMETHING. I thought that the NHS were meant to help but at the moment I'm just frustrated because at every single turn I walk into a brick wall. Wall after bloody wall of bricks.
I give up.
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