Big D


I’m writing this just before setting off for a rare visit to the surgery.
I’m off to talk to my doctor about “The Big D”.
No, not diarrhea.
Nor dandruff.
I mean depression.

That’s depression.

Good, you’re still reading.

For now, I’ll spare you how this has all occurred.
I just wanted to tell someone that I’m scared about what happens now.

If it’s medicine, we’ll take our medicine. There will be side effects I know, but you have to think about the greater good.
But what if they suggest therapy? I struggle to express myself verbally, hence all this typing. How would I cope with that?
What if they don’t think there’s anything wrong with me. Question mark? Exclamation mark!

I hope you’ll bear with me.
I want to write about this so if someone finds themselves similarly entrenched, well we can scramble out together.

Thanks for reading.



About simonwebsterwise

Pretend Canadian. Doter on women. Professional sports spectator. Askew view on the world.

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