In the adventure of chronic illness, there is no hand holding. Unless maybe you are a child.
While there is no hand holding, there are no absolute truths, either.
Some doctors disclose everything. Some disclose nothing. And still others provide vague predictions of what’s to come.
On the first meeting with Doctor F, I was basically told that my life has changed in ways that even I haven’t anticipated yet. This wasn’t a proclamation of a death sentence, but it did not inspire hope, either. There was no glossing over the fact that not everything was going to be okay. It was the most honest anyone had been with me to that point.
Go out and do what you have to do to make your life livable.
If only it were that easy. If only I knew how.