One of the problems with having a long-term illness is that the longer it goes on, the more you convince yourself it’s going to turn into something more serious. I’ve had acute oesophagitis for over a year now and it shows no signs of going away. So you’d think I’d be happy at the fact that I’m going in for a procedure a week on Saturday for someone to have a look at it, which will hopefully lead to something being done about it.
But I’m not. And the reason for that is because a) I’ve had the procedure before, and it’s not pleasant; and b) I’m fully aware of the risks involved. Now, the thing is, it’s a tiny, infinitesimally small risk. But the simple fact that it’s there makes me worry.
Basically, there’s the smallest risk that this gastroscopy could cause a punctured oesophagus, and that could potentially have fatal complications. It’s massively unlikely, but in my head – and partly because the oesophagitis has been significantly worse since the last time I had it done and has likely eroded some of the lining of my oesophagus – this makes the procedure something to worry about.
The other worry, of course, is that they’ll find something seriously wrong. So while I want to know exactly what I’m dealing with, the thought of finding out that it is something serious fills me with a great deal of apprehension about the whole thing. Yet if I don’t go ahead with it, I’ll worry just the same because I’ll be wondering whether it’s going to get worse.
The fact that it’s two days before my birthday somehow makes it even more nerve-racking. As if the date has any kind of effect on my condition. I realise I’m being totally stupid about this, but I can’t help it.
In short, it’d be fantastic if I could somehow fast-forward nine days when the whole thing’s over and done with. Has anyone got a time machine I can borrow?