Shattered Dreams

SIXTY-TWO.

"That sounds terrifying." I reply, my heartrate picking up again and I remember the time Corey spoke to me about knowing someone with fibromyalgia so maybe he will be able to get me in contact with them so they can give me some tips on what to do to help as it is a similar illness to mine.

"It's also known as chronic fatigue syndrome," He adds and this name makes more sense. "We don't like to call it this anymore though because the condition is a lot more than fatigue, which is where people misunderstand the illness the most."

Hearing him say the word 'illness' makes me feel at ease, it makes me feel that all these months of having people not believe me is now finally worth it. What I am feeling is now being recognised.

"Why do people misunderstand it?" I ask, curious as to what I have in store for me.

"Because as you know, it can't be seen and the average person doesn't believe it's a real illness, much like most of your doctors don't," He begins to explain and it all unfolds in my head more and more and I begin to understand on why this has been such a fight. "I have a daughter with the same illness so I have been trying my hardest to understand it and vouch for the people with the same thing, who keep getting fobbed off by the healthcare system."

"How long has your daughter had it?" I ask, baffled to know that there are other people like me. I am shocked that I have an actual illness, even though I knew I had something wrong with me, to be diagnosed with something after months of being told that I'm imagining it is like a reward.

I was right.

Fuck everyone who said it was all in my head. Fuck everyone who was saying I was being dramatic and most of all fuck everyone who didn't believe me.

"Since she was twelve," He says in a monotone voice and then continues hesitantly. "She is now twenty-seven."

"She's had it that long?" I gasp, scared about whether this will be something I am stuck with for as long as that.

"Ah, yes, let's get back to talking about your diagnosis shall we?" He offers and I nod in agreement because my previous settled down anxiety is now begining to rise again at the information of his daughter. I have handled being like this so long and I have fought so hard to get to be able to sit in front of a doctor believes me but I don't think I will be able to handle suffering for any longer. Yes I came here for a diagnosis but my main hope was to get a way out of this nightmare.

I need it all to end. If I have to carry on like this for much longer I think I may end up dead.

I've always been scared of the idea of death, the idea that there is a constant oblivion after we die but it sounds like eternal peace from the life I'm living, an escape from my hell hole of a reality. I am asleep for most of my existing life now, I may as well sleep for eternity, I will feel a whole lot better than I do now for it.

"How long will I..be like this?" I hesitate on my words and his expression turns sympathetic, as he nows all about what I am going through because of his daughter.

"I can't answer that one because it's different for everyone, just like everything else," He begins, writing notes down as he goes and I hope he will give them to me after because I won't remember shit about what he's just told me. "We have a thing with this illness where if you have had it for five years or more than there is a high chance you won't ever recover."

My eyes widen at the thought of being like this my whole life, I can't imagine the intense suffereing that will bring me because if I think going through this for a few months is awful, then being bed ridden for years must be hell on earth. I have no idea how many people suffer from this around the world but I hope it's not too many as I can't let myself think about how many people are like this.