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Have not recovered yet. Medical PTSD on top of CPTSD. Trying to hang on to life. Some days I wish I had just died instead of fought for my life. I'm stuck with the aftetrmath, everyone else just goes on with their life.
Hospital complaints department said a year later "You might have made the right decision, buying antibiotics." They wouldn't say more, not available for comments. There are days I have lost all faith in a good life.

* * * * * * aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarghh
Why do have to deal with this *? Why can't life just leave me the * ALONE!?
I had enough * to deal with already, why did this have to happen to me?
It's been three months and I am still dealing with the aftermath of this *. I HATE it!
I am numb, because I can't be angry.
*(%^$*^#*&$^#(*!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'm going to visit the one friend who believes me. To talk about my feelings. He said he didn't mind at all and that I was very welcome. I'm glad I talked to someone while I was sick about what I was really feeling.

The universe must have a sense of humor.
For children of parents with autism there is the term "Cassandra phenomenon". Cassandra was a goddess with the gift of foresight, but the curse that nobody would believe her.
I already was a Cassandra child.
Now, I have experienced something that nobody believes.
Thenagain, it is mostly a case of Boy Who Shouts Wolf. I've been going to the doctor for my anxiety so much.. No wonder nobody believed.
If only the surgery had come a week earlier. Then, they would have seen with their own eyes.

I am giving myself positive affirmations. And I am seeking positive affirmations around me. I have actually learned a lot these past years.

I expect I'll be cycling through emotions for days to come. And I'm okay with that.
On one level, I'm lucky that I don't have to work fulltime. I would certainly have lost way more weight in a short amount of time. And I have all the time I need at home to process this.
I have talked to two strangers in the street, who were walking their dog. And the exchange was pleasant.
It's the connection with my husband that is damaged so intensely. I don't need a stranger in the street to acknowledge what I've been through. I need someone closest to me to acknowledge it.

This is my coping strategy. Regain control.

God, life is difficult. And what rotten luck that this happened to me.

I have one appointment with a pulmonologist upcoming. Because of the shortness of breath. But that has entirely disappeared.
And my husband is like "yeah but you'll freak out in a year or so about your breathing and then you wish you had this done".
But all I can see is that this appointment will result in yet another "nothing wrong physically" entry in my file. And a further confirmation for my GP that it's anxiety.
I think it's best that I pre-emptively call my GP and say "hey, my physical ailments have all disappeared, I think I'll cancel that appointment with the pulmonologist".

There is only one friend who believes me. But even he does not understand the extent that I was sick in that past week. If that surgery hadn't come sooner, if those antibiotics hadn't come in, I don't know if I would have made it. I don't think I would have made it, mentally.

I am dizzy now, just thinking about it.

The day before the antibiotics came in, I prayed. I haven't prayed in years. I actually got my name removed from the church register. But I prayed. I said, please, please let me get better. I'll go to church again. I promised myself I'd go to church again. And I've gone. The sunday after my surgery and the second sunday after that, I went to church. I don't know if I should be at *this* church. I don't know if it should be church per se. But I need to rediscover some spirituality. Some faith. Some belief, that something saved me. Some strength, that I can get through the emotional upheaval this has given me.

I need to get through the pain of not being believed. I need to get through the regret of panicking so much this year. I need to get through the regret of not listening to my body sooner. I have been doubting those surgical clips since january 2018. My subconscious was telling me. But I didn't listen. And now there is so much that is destroyed. So much of my trust in other people, that wasn't great to begin with.

And my file at the GP is littered with nothing but "anxiety disorder" and "hypochondria".
I have made a pact with myself. Apparently, after X years, you can get your medical file destroyed. I don't need to have everything destroyed, I'm okay with the diagnoses I have. But in 5 years time, I will walk into my GP's office, I will tell her that I have been pretty much anxiety free for five years and that I want to invoke my right to have parts of my file destroyed. This entire episode is going out.

I can't go back in time. I can't change anything.
Would it have been better if I hadn't taken antibiotics? But I was so underweight and so ill. I don't think the gynaecologist would have operated me had he seen me in that state. The antibiotics helped me get through that last week.
Would it have been better if I had done nothing at all and had let my body deteriorate to the point where they had no choice but to believe me? By this time, my GP had started about anorexia and psychiatric clinics etcetera. Even my husband believed it.
I would not have made it.
Everything I did in the end, was to save myself. And it worked. I am physically well again.

But now.. I could have died. And nobody believed me. And I in part caused this myself, by self-diagnosing. But had I not self-diagnosed, then I would not have determined that it was the sterilization clip. It's a double edged sword.

I can't go back in time to change anything. It is what it is.
I just need to process what happened. Work through my emotions.
Regardless of whether someone believes me. I believe me. I know what happened.
It was the most terrifying year of my life.

My husband still does not believe me.
And this is the worst part of it all.
I cannot talk to the one person I wish to be able to talk to.
I want to tell him how frightened I have been. I want to tell him how ill I have been.
He, bless him, tried to help me with advice like dietary changes and other benign causes of why I was feeling the way I was feeling. But in january, I just knew. I just knew. It was an infection around the sterilization clip. Everything suddenly matched up. But by then, my anxiety and hypochondria had wrecked all trust between us.

Everything that my anxiety has been trying to tell me this year, has been: Something is really wrong with our body.
I have not felt anxious since my surgery. At all.

It's only today and yesterday that the force of what had happened hit me. I am, still, not anxious. I am shook up. I am angry. I am frustrated.

I cannot describe in words how ill I have been throughout january and february. And how horrible it was that nobody believed that I was physically severely ill.
I felt so alone.

[couldn't breathe]

I have nowhere to turn to.
My story is ... absurd. Everyone thought I was going mad. And they still think what I am telling them is psychosis. I cannot ask a therapist to help me process the trauma, because they don't believe it happened. It is horrific.

I can't even type it all down right now. I don't know how to tell the story. It's too long. It's too complicated. But I have to. To process it.
I was sterilized with Filshie clips in 2015. In beginning of 2018, I started having abdominal pain in the lower left side. And I was very, very tired. Extremely tired. My menstrual cycle got shorter. And less. Then I lost my appetite. Then I got nauseous. In january 2019 I had lost 30 pounds of weight. But through 2018 I had been going to the GP and had tried to self-diagnose too much. Mentioned everything from cancer to kidney failure. My GP and husband were exasperated with my anxiety. And then january 2019 rolled around and I couldn't breathe. I was choking. At night and by day. I was tired. No appetite, kept losing weight. And my abdomen hurt. Hurt. Hurt. Throughout 2018 my body had been telling me something was wrong with the sterilization clips. The thought kept coming back to me again and again. I managed to find a gynaecologist and tell her about my physcial problems. Tired. Abdominal pain. Menstrual cycle problems. Breathing problems. She, thank god, said "I can't promise it'll help you but I'm willing to remove the clips."

Two weeks before my scheduled surgery and I literally FEEL that it's a bacterial infection going through my belly. I had blood work done that showed signs of infection, but was brushed off by my GP. I was prescribed antidepressants. Which made me want to kill myself. Two weeks before surgery. Can't eat. Can't sleep. In so much pain. I then.. my stroke of miracle.. managed to illegally obtain antibiotics. And started taking them. I felt marginally better. The pain went away. The burning sensation went away. I could breathe again. Still no appetite and intensely tired. Couldn't get up from the couch. My husband was fed up with it and told me to stop imaging things.

Then I got a magic phonecall: The surgery could be scheduled a week earlier. YES!!

I had surgery. And it probably saved my life. But no infection was seen at the site. Probably because I had been taking antibiotics. Within days after surgery, I felt better. I have more energy. My pain is gone.

The story is absurd. I know. I know it sounds like I am psychotic. I cannot convince anyone that what happened really happened. Every action I have done was in panic. And yet, I saved myself. And now I cannot talk to anyone about it, to work through my emotions. I could have died.

Please don't respond if you are convinced this cannot possibly be a true story. This is my journal. Please respect it.
This was a horrific year.

Bowel discomfort is migrating through my entire lower belly now.
I'm taking it easy and telling myself that feeling discomfort doesn't mean you have bad health.
Yes, I'm having abdominal discomfort, after three months of going on a weird diet and quitting that diet a week ago. No surprise, right!

I read this article a few days back: http://nothingworks.weebly.com/

I need to start NOT ACTING on my anxiety. To teach my body that we're not in danger.

I felt okay for a little while. But I'm not there yet. Lack of appetite since October 30. And it hasn't recovered yet. GP I visited on November 7th thought it could be a virus.

My left side is sore/sensitive. I've lost weight. My stool varies from loose to watery. And my anxiety is convinced it's colon cancer this time.

I've found a clinic that does ultrasounds without doctors referral. But can I go there knowing that this action to soothe my fears may actually reinforce my anxiety? I don't ever know if an ultrasound can catch colon cancer.

I said I'd wait it out over the weekend. I visited a dietician who told me I've lost weight because I'm not getting enough calories. My husband had a stomach bug a couple of weeks ago that bothered him for three weeks. Should I wait it out?

My anxiety says: If you don't check it, and it turns out malignant, then what? Isn't it better to check as soon as possible?

I should wait it out another few days at least. Give my body the chance to get rid of any stomach bugs I might have.

Trying to breathe and relax.