Today would have been my 34th wedding anniversary. Obviously, it isn't.
I've been struggling with fears of penile cancer for weeks now and today was the icing on the cake: I went for a poo and it was really pale (as have subsequent ones) so now I can't tell if it's just me eating quite fatty stuff for a day or two or my liver is giving out.
I'm really at my wits end here and I really am getting to the point where I think ending my own life is the best option. Rather that than a slow, painful decline.
I might try ringing the IAPT helpline in a minute but I doubt they will help.
If I go offline, you'll know why.
