Hoorah, he still wants to get rid of me!

Yes... yes... yes! My specialist hasn't changed his mind and my transplant referral letter is on it's way to me... hoorah!

This morning I felt absolutely dire after having hardly any sleep last night. Three times I tried to leave my bungalow to set off to the hospital to meet my specialist and each time I had to turn back as my stomach was doing somersaults.
I did eat my porridge first thing, but it was like trying to swallow mud, as I kept gagging after each mouthful. Not because of my cooking I hasten to add, but just because my nerves had got the better of me and I wanted to throw up.
Each time I go to see him now is worse than before. Usually once I actually get to the hospital then I am fairly calm, but not today.

The meeting with my specialist/consultant was a bit like a pep talk for the meeting with the Papworth panel really.
I do have a tendency to play things down when I'm out and meet medical staff as I don't want to come across as 'the' whinger. Ok on here I'm always whingeing I know, but it's my blog so I'll whinge if I want too, a bit like the old song really!
But as he said, he has known me for ten years now and knows how I have struggled on working for last few years and as he says 'I am totally bloody minded' and push myself too much at times. But they have to know that this trying to be 'normal' comes at a price for me and that I am deteriorating.
He wants me to be me, which is so they can see that I am worth investing in basically, but I have to be honest about how this is affecting my quality of life.
A lot of people would have given up and stuck to their wheelchairs, but I still try to walk pushing mine instead.

He apologised for that fact that I had taken what he said at our last meeting about the two year window for this transplant so literally. What he meant by that was although the cut off age was sixty, I would have deteriorated too much by then and I probably wouldn't be able to cope with the transplant.
I explained to him, that this is why most of my relationships since my divorce haven't worked out, because I tend to take what people say to the letter, especially if people give me a time frame.
'I'll call you' becomes 'When, in 15mins, tomorrow, next week... when?!' I do hang on peoples every word, bad OCD habit I know.

He also has decided that he wants me to try taking statins to lower my cholesterol levels. He knows that 5.1 is borderline, but he wants me to be in tip top form for when I see them at Papworth. But and a big but, if I get pains in my arms, I'm to stop taking them straight away.
He admits, very bravely I may add, that I am carrying extra weight now. But that is blatantly obvious to anyone who sees us when I hug him before I leave, as I suffocate him, bless him!

So basically if I haven't heard from them in six weeks, I must call him and that means I have six weeks to get in shape for them too. Also I can have coaching on how I answer their questions as well, as a lot will be riding on this.
I have ordered some new Barbara Currie, Yoga DVDs so I can do gentle exercise as well, as I am unable to go to rehab at the moment. I am going to try hard to get the rest of my body fit for this transplant and if it helps me look better, which will ultimately make me feel happier in myself, then that's a bonus too.
Hopefully I will sleep better tonight, but I doubt it as I will be thinking of things I should have said, shouldn't have said or should have asked him.
He is a poppet, but he is so quietly spoken that I don't always get to hear the whole question and end up wondering why he has a quizzical look on his face, so I must hone on my listening skills too.
A good, but mentally exhausting day, but hopefully more to come very soon.

Lots of love Debbie x