Sometimes all I really want is an escape hatch.
I want to tear a poster of Farrah Fawcett from the wall of my life and crawl through a hole into another's existence.
I recently left everything behind and took a solo pilgrimage in an effort to find that elusive inner peace. My efforts were seemingly not enough, as it continues remain elusive.
While time away from my responsibilities, medical drama, and everyday stress was pleasant, there was no permanent relief.
I don't honestly believe I expected a permanent change or even a long lasting one. But I would be remiss to say that somewhere in my heart the hope did not exist.
It felt as though the moment my plane touched down the weight that had been lifted from shoulders at the onset of my journey came crashing right down on me with more than just a vengeance. As happy as I was to be home, I couldn't help but feel crushed once I realized it was time to set the wheels back in motion.
Lab work.
CT scan.
Doctor's appointment.
This is my present.
There is no past; there is no future. There's only now.
And quite frankly, "now" sucks a little bit.
Friday, October 28, 2011
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
It's the little things...
Most days I don't think about my illness.
I feel great. I have energy. I feel no pain. Even my headaches have been mild to nonexistent.
I feel so good in fact, that I tend to forget I'm terminal. It's almost as though I am healthy.
Then out of nowhere something will pop up and shatter this illusionary world I inhabit.
For example, I will lean my arm on the counter for a minute too long, and a bruise will appear. No trauma necessary. All I have to do is lean to be reminded that my platelet count is low.
Today I have to get a flu shot due to my immune system being compromised. That's what my doctor tells me. Again, another reminder that regardless of how good I feel, I am not good at all.
The little things slowly chip away at my pleasant mood, and at times, my confidence.
I give myself these pep talks. I try to convince myself that I am in fact NOT dying OF this disease, but that I am living WITH this condition. I tell myself the glass is half full, and not mostly empty. I tell myself I can beat this because I'm feeling great, and I am asymptomatic.
But when a bruise appears out of seemingly nowhere, or when I have to swallow my principles and get a flu shot, or when I receive a phone call from the transplant center to confirm my appointment... it's hard to believe my own propaganda.
These tiny, unrelated pockets of circumstances chill me. They devastate me. They break down my emotional defenses and leave me clutching my Teddy bear like a scared 3 year old.
And then the moment passes, and I regain control and tell myself to live in THIS moment and not to worry about the next.
It works, too.
Until the next bruise, the next action that goes against my personality, or the next appointment.
Rinse and repeat.
I feel great. I have energy. I feel no pain. Even my headaches have been mild to nonexistent.
I feel so good in fact, that I tend to forget I'm terminal. It's almost as though I am healthy.
Then out of nowhere something will pop up and shatter this illusionary world I inhabit.
For example, I will lean my arm on the counter for a minute too long, and a bruise will appear. No trauma necessary. All I have to do is lean to be reminded that my platelet count is low.
Today I have to get a flu shot due to my immune system being compromised. That's what my doctor tells me. Again, another reminder that regardless of how good I feel, I am not good at all.
The little things slowly chip away at my pleasant mood, and at times, my confidence.
I give myself these pep talks. I try to convince myself that I am in fact NOT dying OF this disease, but that I am living WITH this condition. I tell myself the glass is half full, and not mostly empty. I tell myself I can beat this because I'm feeling great, and I am asymptomatic.
But when a bruise appears out of seemingly nowhere, or when I have to swallow my principles and get a flu shot, or when I receive a phone call from the transplant center to confirm my appointment... it's hard to believe my own propaganda.
These tiny, unrelated pockets of circumstances chill me. They devastate me. They break down my emotional defenses and leave me clutching my Teddy bear like a scared 3 year old.
And then the moment passes, and I regain control and tell myself to live in THIS moment and not to worry about the next.
It works, too.
Until the next bruise, the next action that goes against my personality, or the next appointment.
Rinse and repeat.
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