World Mental Health

this article is really interesting (honest, even though that does sound like it was written by a spambot!) But for some reason, when I tried to permalink to it, WP went all snitty and refused to format my post. Certain that you would not wish to read a great big glob of text, I gave up on the permalinking, and will just post the link

HERE.

Go read it. Honest, it’s good. And inspired this post, so…

When I first moved into this house, as a spry young thing of 31, with three under-twos, my neighbours were older women, late sixties. They were both fit, and communicative, and interesting.

Then Neighbour1 (lets call her Nellie) developed stomach cancer, underwent chemotherapy and survived. But she stopped thinking of it as survival. She became frail, prone to bruising and thin. So very thin. She said “If I get cancer again, that’s it. I wish I’d never had this chemo, I am not having more!”
She died less than two years after diagnosis, and was a physical wreck. But she could still read, still have an affair with a married man, still remember who I was.

Neighbour2 (let’s call her Sue) was physically strong. When I first moved in, she went shopping, caught the bus to Harrow and went to church. As time passed, she could still walk for miles, but no one let her any more. Because she couldn’t remember her address, or what day it was. “Is it ,” she would ask, as I took the kids to school, “or is it ?”

Sue hung on for a long time, only going out if the ambulance could take her.

I think, push comes to shove, I’d rather be Nellie.

This article terrifies me. Because, though not on antidepressants, I am on permanent medication for high blood pressure. What will happen when I become either to weak to demand them or too forgetful to worry about them?

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About bookmole
I am pro-choice. You make yours, I'll make mine, okay?

One Response to World Mental Health

  1. leendadll says:

    Just this morning I was clawing at my skin (allergies) and wondering what will become of me if I live to old age… so many stupid illnesses and things which can go wrong; and I have no support system. I fear ending up with my brain understanding but unable to communicate, locked within my body which is locked in some boring facility for the aged.

    My G-Ma broke her hip in her 80s but it was the depression which really killed it. The broken hip was also her mental breaking point and she chose to give up.

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