The fact that my life is now so lonely and so empty that I had no-one to help me with the shopping this morning.
That there was no-one I could call to come and help me when I was feeling so awful, no-one to come and take me home.
The fact that I've talked about what happened everywhere - on Facebook, in texts and emails, and no-one talks back. No-one rings to make sure I'm OK. I just lie here in endless pain, all by myself. I get one little text from my sister, then nothing.
It's bad enough to have to go through all that - the pain itself; the humiliation of bring stuck there, propped up by shelves, waiting for a wheelchair; the frustration and fear and powerlessness of being trapped somewhere, unable to leave when you want to. But to have to come back to an empty house - to nothing and no-one - and then to lie here all afternoon, alone and in pain, knowing that no-one's coming.
It could be weeks till I see a friendly face and the pain just keeps on and on and on.
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