Tonight marks a solid month of this being sick crap
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| I HEART PAMPHLETS! |
And let me be very clear; I know I am luckier than almost anyone who finds themselves in a situation like this. My procedure, which has been scheduled for this coming Wednesday, is low-risk and usually highly successful. I am lucky and I know it. However, I have been mostly confined to my house for the last few weeks and it has been a revealing experience I will probably reflect on for the rest of my life.
There has been something about this whole experience that has made me want to capture it; like a photograph of the most beautiful butterfly. Yet, that photograph remains elusive. As my horrendously overwrought (and overused) metaphor indicates, I feel as though I lack the skills. Or the words. Or at least some central organizing principle around which to organize these random thoughts that are knocking around my brain as fast the beats in my chest.
I have never experienced anything like this before in my entire life. I have never been told by my doctor that I couldn’t drive, or that I should mostly lay low and work on remaining as calm as possible, so as not to exacerbate my bullet train of a heart. Never. I have never even broken a bone. Yes, I was put on partial bed-rest in the last few weeks of my pregnancy, but I was roughly the size of a walrus and being told not to move was more an act of mercy than anything else. Plus, I was getting a baby at the end, so win-win.
This is different because I have entire days where I feel, more or less, normal. Then there are nights like tonight and I am awake for reasons that are inexplicable to me and my heart is thumping and, frankly, I’m bored. I could be using this as a time to be productive and get some school work done, but I don’t exactly have amazing focus right now. I will probably end up spending too much time on my adult coloring app on my i-pad. Maybe I’ll read.
There have been insights, though, and I want to write them down and that makes me want to share them because, hey, I didn’t become known as “Cher” at work because I don’t share enough on social media, duh.
Let me say again that I do not want, in any way, to compare myself to someone with a serious, life-altering, life-threatening condition. I know parents who have walked that road with their children, I know people who have lived through it with their loved ones, and I know people who are walking a much scarier path on this road than I am. My situation is, god-willing, fleeting. If all goes well during my procedure on Wednesday, I will miraculously be cured. I find this rather astounding frankly, as there are so few things in medicine, and in life, that are that clear cut. I have luck on my side that I realize so many do not.
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| That's the inside of Tuff Girl Fitness; I miss those kettlebells so, so much. |
That said, I feel I have gotten a peek behind a curtain most of us don’t ever want to see behind. Illness like this is frustrating, particularly in the beginning when no one seems to believe that your symptoms are real. It is mundane and boring. It isolates you. It is painful. It is exhausting. It takes away the activities you loved. It reduces you. The one I was least expecting, though, was how lonely it would feel. The middle of the night, when everyone else in the world seems to be asleep, is when I feel most crazy and alone. I get restless. What do I do with myself? I don’t want to make too much noise for fear of waking my family up, yet I sit here, yearning for someone to talk to, laugh with.
I love how people keep saying, let me know if you need anything. Some people have really come through for me, covering aspects of my job, without whom this time in my life would have been infinitely more stressful. My immediate family has been amazing. I am deeply grateful to those people. Aside from that, though, what I really wish is that people would just show up. Call me. Text me randomly. Take thirty seconds and write a comment on this blog post, let’s say. Just something to let me know you haven’t forgotten I exist. Come and visit me and we can consider it your good deed for the month if that sort of thing is your bag. If you’re reading this, it is likely I will be well on my way to a full recovery. But just keep in mind that if someone you care about ends up in a similar situation, reach out to them. For most of us, I don’t think you’ll be intruding, you’ll be a welcome guest.
And because I have no better way to wrap this random collection of thoughts up...if you have not watched “Empire” yet...get on that. Cookie is incredible and I want all of her clothes. I’m very much looking forward to having some place to get dressed up for again.
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| That coat..I mean...seriously. |
