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I, independently, checked myself in and out of the hospital, alone.

 I figured I live alone so I should probably be doing this alone. I mean it wasn't that far and it was just going to be 2 nights with a minor procedure and some tests, it would be like a mini-vacation where they serve me food. Sounds easy enough to do alone. However, laying there I wondered why did I feel like I had to do this alone? Why did I feel like I would be inconveniencing someone if I asked them to just be with me on this journey?  I watched other patients get visitations from friends and family, I just couldn't bring myself to pick up my phone and ask a friend for a visit. Currently, in level 1&2 of lockdown in South Africa, the hospital was allowing patients, one visitor, at a time. I have people in my life that would visit me, I think, but what would I say? I came here willingly for some tests to confirm that I have Irritable Bowel Syndrome which I already know and I feel a bit sorry for myself even though I have a brave face on. Honestly, it was a shitty expe

Yes, I had Covid-19 and it was horrific.

  Recommended by  CapeTownInsider It has been exactly 3 months since I woke up knowing I had the Covid-19 virus. Well strongly suspected is probably the better word to use. It was a Sunday morning and I remember opening my eyes trying to remember how much alcohol I had consumed the previous evening. My head was pounding, my body sore, my throat dry and scratchy, everything inside of me felt like it was dying. As I sat up collecting my thoughts I realised, I was unable to consume more than half of my cider the previous night because I didn't feel well and went to bed early. The half-empty cider on my kitchen counter and 5 full ciders in my fridge confirmed my theory, this wasn't a hangover.  It wasn't long before the chills started. I don't get cold, if I am cold then you know it is FREEZING outside, it was the middle of winter and I still only had my one duvet on my bed. These chills were so severe I added three blankets to my bed, full winter pyjamas and socks yet th

The First Truth

  I have been thinking of doing a blog for a while now, finally got to the point where I'm making my first post. However, I am too scared to attach my real name to my own truths probably because I don't want to hurt my family. Many of the truths I want to share are a direct result of my childhood and how I was raised. No , it's not horrific stories of abuse or anything of that kind. It is what one would consider a "normal" childhood, the eldest child of two born into a loving marriage at the time. Conservative church-going family where we spoke about all the good things in life and pray away the bad.  Sex was something we didn't speak about because you were going to abstain from it. By the time you get married and are "allowed" to have sex someone will enlighten you of all the ins and outs of sex, no pun intended.  Mental health like depression, anxiety, PTSD, suicidal thoughts - taboo. You just needed to get closer to God and get over it. It was a