I wonder if other chronic fighters feel the same?
I want to say that I am ok, truly I do! … but do I owe them a lie or the truth? Is it kinder to say “… I am ok, thank you…” or “it hurts so much I am barely hanging on?”
What do you tell the people you love? It’s like a double edged sword. Both sides painful and neither are easy.
I am mostly saddened that after all these long years that I had hoped that I would be stronger at coping through such desperately difficult times. Such painful times. Such debilitating times; but I am not.
I saw a picture of an old building which was slowly giving way to the forces of nature and time. No matter how strong or beautiful the building was or had been, time and forces have had its way… and always will.
Am I strong? Have I been strong enough? Or have the forces of time, pain, disease and many other factors been slowly eroding away the person that I was and the person I wanted to be?
Yes. It has.
Yes it has.
How do I explain that to others who may react unpredictably to this and not know how to interpret this information? I don’t want to worry them. I don’t want to hurt them. I don’t want to intrude on them.
Today I was barely able to be awake for longer than a few hours before pain and weakness forced me back to try and rest. Exhausted.
Sleep has been fitful but it has also been a refuge from the pain of being awake. I treasure whatever sleep I can get these days.
I am taking more pain meds than I ever have. I have had to increase my prednisone (steroid loading) because of the pain on my joints and stomach/ bowel. I am too weak to walk without Derek or my chair, in fact it’s hard to move my limbs at all. I can’t eat without horrific pains and throwing up on myself; so I don’t eat.
However, I worry more for my husband and my darling furries. I worry about how they are and I feel bad that I can’t give them more than a soft kiss and a teary thank you.
Guilt and pain are a toxic combination. More poisonous than arsenic.
I am laying here with heat packs, an electrolyte drink in a child’s sippy cup, a sleeping puppy, a vomit bag, a book which my husband has been slowly reading to me, pain killers and my blog.
I keep asking myself ‘ … are other chronic fighters doing the same?…’ is this something we all share and experience? Is this what connects us all?
And this is why I write what I write. To reach out. To share the things I ask myself all the time. In the hope that others may understand. In the hope that it makes a difference. Somehow.
Like an old building that may be eroding and embattled, there are stories and memories everywhere. Even things to share and learn.
And now I must rest again…