You see Dr D. You tell her the pain has increased, and you discuss and agree how much to increase the painkillers by. You say, it's not just the pain, explain that your right hand has gone numb, there is no strength in it.
At the appointment with Dr E, Dr G's registrar, she says, I think things are continuing to progress, and you think, no shit sherlock. You are shorter of breath than ever. Dr E says, I'll send you for an x-ray, right now. So she writes out a form, hands it to you, says I'll see you in a few minutes. As you exit the room, H takes a look at you, shuffling slowly with a grimace on your face, says, do you need a wheelchair?
You take a deep breath, for once let your common sense take precedence over your pride, say yes. H, face impassive, conjures one out of thin air. You sit down, stare into space think - how did we get here. But today it seems inevitable, long walks down endless hospital corridors are out of the question.
H wheels you along, and for a second you're glad she can't see your face. Immediately the world changes. You become invisible, mostly people don't look at you, while you look at the floor.
Later, Dr E looks at the x-ray result, says, yes, there is definite progression, and you think, in more ways than one.
