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Oh to just be told "it's terminal, you've got 6 months, good news, you'll have a surge of health before the end"
It's not what I would hope for from my life, but it sounds nice to finally be able to just, stop.
No more chasing down GPs for refferals, no more calling specialists asking if they've sent over results and reports. No more weekly appointments trying to find the right medication. Most more confusion over "is this symptom something new that's unrelated? Or Is it related? Will it be temporary? Is this symptom my new normal? Wait, is this a drug side effect?"
No more fighting with council to get ramp access to my house, no more stressing over how I will ever be able to afford the home care I'll need for the extended duration I'll need it on the income my disability limits me to.
No more looking at my mother and my auntie's as they slowly crumble, while still being expected to suck it up and bear the responsibilities they always have. No more seeing the long, deteriorating future ahead of me reflected by my loved ones.
No more "oh, you're chronically ill? have you tried drinking water and doing yoga?"
No more "you don't look sick"
I've only got 6 months to have to put up with any of this, and then I'm gone.
I'd prefer to be alive, but I wouldn't be upset at the universe if that's the hand I was dealt.
6 months is a good time frame. Certainly beats getting hit by a bus tomorrow - who would look after me cat?