Fortitude – To display courage and bravery when dealing with pain, difficulty and/or diversity especially over a long period.
Had a hospital appointment today. The hustle and bustle of a busy eye department, always fills me with dread. Following on from January’s initial assessment; I am here for an audience with a Professor. Luckily for me, this sweet, kind and softly spoken man, was a pleasure to speak with. His news however, hit me like a sledgehammer.
“You do have Retinitis Pigmentosa. You are lucky to have made it to your 40s…”
There was more. Some I heard, most I didn’t. I was taken to another room for blood tests so they could begin genetic testing, to find out what went wrong. What gene in my body had betrayed me. He was able to advise that some patients, do retain some vision but at this stage, it was impossible to say how my disease would progress.
I thought I had left this all behind me long ago. As I sit here writing this, I can’t fathom how I am going to make it through the week. Further tests and my blood tests results, will be discussed at my next appointment in 4 months time.
After a million tears and a handshake – I was heading for the door. My husband was a tower of strength today. I was shocked at how well he coped if I’m honest. Is he in denial? Was he not listening? Or does he have total faith that whatever happens, we will make it through?
I cried so many tears today. I looked back. I looked forward. I couldn’t find anything positive or hopeful to cling too. My fortitude is clearly still being downloaded.
My lowest point today was looking into my husband’s eyes, as we sat back in the busy waiting room; speaking from my shattered heart
“I am so sorry. What kind of life will we have now? What kind of support will I be? I feel like you were given a broken toy for Christmas. I am so so sorry”
My head was filled with thoughts of my little girl. How long do I have to be an active mother in her life? I wanted to be able to give her the world. What could I give her now? How long would I be able to drive and be independent? How was I going to tell my Mum and Dad? My In-Laws? Our friends?
I expected the outside world to be different, when I stepped outside the hospital. It felt strange that people were going about their business, given what had just happened. Then I remembered. Nothing had changed for them. Everything has just changed for me.