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.

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About simonwebsterwise

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

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