Priorities

This entry, was written on Friday night, and was supposed to have been posted on Saturday. But I didn't post it. Here it is.

From Saturday: This entry was ready to be published before today's unexpectedly positive turn out. I just thought I'd point that out.

I feel in a way it's necessary to write this entry tonight, as so much of recent entries has been slightly down hearted and lacking 'bounce' somewhat. Basically, they've been a marathon moan. I fully realise that there are so many people who would give their right arm to be in the position I find myself in right now (heck I've already given away two arms to experimental butchers!).

I think when the prospect of a third, possibly doomed Canula line looms, this realisation is important to focus on. In fact it's not so much of a realisation - I certainly didn't realise it suddenly this evening - but more of a reminder. The short term frustration experienced with these stupid lines and veins, as well as the physical pain felt is really nothing in comparison to the problems and frustrations of some.

I'm counting down the days until I'm finished with this treatment. There are so many people who would love to have such certainty with their health, to have the luxury of having a count down until their treatment, pain or suffering is behind them. Even if this means some mild stress (which in the whole scheme of things, it really is) a mere three times a day, I am more then willing to sit here, lie here, or indeed rain dance here because I know just that: it is mild and mere. Of that I am sure - memory serves the most powerful reminder.

As I said at the very start of this entry, there are so many, too many people, who would give so much to be in my position. There are those waiting for transplants, those who are told they will never be allowed to have transplants. There are those with Cancer whose treatment requires a canula just to *begin* it. There are those who are facing death with zero hope, who don't have the choice of a canula to magically fix all. There is a growing number of people who daily join the club of people who have sadly, tragically and unnecessarily lost loved ones and who themselves would sit and take line after line after line if it would grant them just one more moment with their precious ones.


I hate, hate, hate Canulas and lines. It's probably the only thing I am certifiably phobic of. Of all the things I've done and had in my life it ranks up there as one of the all time yuckiest. This blog is written by me, and unashamedly (for the most part!) All About Me. I am however conscious that my readers arrived here from a variety of places, for a variety reasons, and have themselves a variety of health issues in their suitcases. And so I apologise for moaning. Some of you may tell me that I'm entitled to moan now and again, and that may be so, but in this case I really, really don't.

If there are a few of you left who have not yet said 'Oh when will she ever shut up moaning about IVs, she's lucky enough to have had her transplant!' then I think....you're crazy. Life is precious, each breath is a treasured gift. And if getting stung by needles, means I get the successful treatment to keep enjoying this gift then so be it.

*That was a rambled spaghetti of waffle. It isn't even complete ('where is the conclusion' my biology teacher I'm sure would inquire!), but I hope that you can get the point I'm trying to make*