I remember a time, not so long ago, sitting in Doctor C’s office, begging for help; telling Doctor C that I didn’t know how much more I could take of this; that I had been physically sick for a year and had come to realize that I had been having symptoms for several years.
I think Doctor C realized that it was time to put up or shut up, not as a threat, but as a personal plea from me.
A lot of people (not those with any of the illnesses I have or any illnesses at all, for that matter) have told me that I could live a relatively normal life with what I have.
Looking back, they may be sort of right.
But do they know what it’s like to go to bed and wakeup in pain? To start most days by smacking yourself on the forehead and saying in your head:
Oh my goodness. This is the rest of my life.
In some ways, that’s the way life is. It is full of ups and downs, even if you don’t have some stupid illness to worry about. On the other hand, it’s different not to have control of situations and not having control over your body.
I mean, I’m grateful for finally feeling a lot better than I did before, but that could change at any moment, without any warning, and there’s very little I can do about it. That’s the scary part.