Does anyone ever wish they hadn't fought so hard to stay alive? I survived 3 surgeries I was told I wouldn't, and sometimes like tonight, I regret that I did.
I feel like I'm not even really alive, I have 5 drain bag hanging off my intestines, unable to eat, completely reliant on TPN. And I'm waiting for a small bowel transplant that has a 50% chance of killing me in the next 10 years. I've gone from completely healthy and thriving, to tethered to a hospital bed, constantly covering myself in whatever leakage has sprung from whatever drain bag.
I'm happy that I'm here because my parents are happy, my family and the few friends are happy. But I don't know how long that can sustain me when I'm living half a life. I don't know how long I can be happy because they are happy. I just feel so completely alone, crippled, and like a burden.