End of the Road?

As you all know, I am attending the National Rehabilitation Hospital for the next little while. So far, I attend physiotherapy as well as a few other therapies. I know of certain people who have attended the NRH in the past, and have come out on the successful side. People who have been told they may never walk again, have walked because of the services at the NRH. I have seen first hand, people who have been wheelchair bound, but have started on their road to recovery due to the persistence at the National Rehabilitation Hospital. Was it wrong of me to have the same expectations or high expectations for my results too? Although I have a different condition, I don’t know anyone else in the whole world in a similar situation to compare my stage of this illness with.
Thursday, 22nd of August; I was told news that I prayed I would never have to hear in my time living with this condition.
I was being assessed to see how much of my mobility had been affected. It turns out I have far more problems than I thought. Like bad posture causing weak stomach and back muscles, tight upper body muscles, the list goes on, and that’s just my upper body.
I always expected if the work was put in I’d be able to fix all these problems. Which is what I was hoping to start in the NRH.
On Thursday , a specialist physiotherapist was finishing her second day of a two-day assessment to see how much mobility I would be able to get back.
The news was bad. According to her; I have little to no chance of walking again. I was told that my brain can not send messages to my legs to move independently, so I will be in a wheelchair for as long as there continues to be no cure for my condition.
Obviously this news is devastating for me, as I had always planned that one day, I would be able to defeat this. I feel as if I have just lost my closest friend, or a child who was fighting a long, hard battle for their life. As if I have just come home from the funeral and the realisation that the person is gone and can never come back is just hitting me. That sense of loss.
My worst nightmare has come true, I will spend countless days and nights grieving. It will take me a VERY long time, maybe years, for me to come to terms with this.
Rest In Peace to the old, happy, carefree, walking me.


On my 12th birthday, before I was diagnosed with Langerhans  Cell Histiocytosis.

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