Monday, August 24, 2015

I walk a lonely road ...

Someone once told me that life is all hills and valleys.  Or ... it was something to that effect. In any case, it meant that sometimes things are good, and others we are down in the dumps.  Or maybe it's something to do with things going downhill ... or being an uphill battle?  No?  Anyone?  Whatever.  Just roll with me, OK?

My life is nothing but hills and valleys that's for sure.  You know what?  That saying doesn't work.  Because, it can be used either way.  I could say it feels like life is nothing but an uphill battle or that I feel like I am constantly going downhill.  Let's just say it's bad, OK?

I admit to being in denial about my health.  There, I said it.  I'm in denial about what can happen, or what is happening.  I find excuses for everything because it's not possible that I could have these things wrong with me.  I'm a healthy adult female. 

Except, I am not. 

No.  I'm not well at all.  This could be my own doing.  Too much work, not enough sleep but, in any case. . .  My teeny, tiny, brief reprieve from feeling like garbage is over.  I'm feeling worse now than I have in months.  Probably since before I had started my last medication.  And, it isn't like I just feel off and run down.  Nope.  I am in pain day in and day out.  Aching, throbbing, screaming joints, headaches, spasms, etc.   Pain meds do nothing for it. My sinuses throb and throb and throb, my eyes feel like they are going to explode from my head like a couple of popped grapes.  My major joints (knees, hips, shoulder, elbows, ankles, wrists, neck) hurt as if I just ran a marathon or hiked the Pacific Coast Trail. The teeny joints want to participate too and the finger joints and toe joints also hate everything in the world. I get dizzy and feel a bit spacey.  I find myself without balance from time to time, I fall over easy.  It's really quite weird.    My teeth throoooooooooooob!

That's just the tip of the iceberg.  I'm not a happy camper.  I feel very distressed by the things that are happening and ... I feel incredibly alone in this.  I don't want to hear "Call the doctor and tell them" whenever I mention not feeling so great.  I don't want a lecture, I don't want to be given a list of things I need to do.  Sometimes, I just want someone to listen, to BE there for me.  A hug to let me know that I am cared for. 

Because, right now I don't feel that at all.  I feel pretty isolated and that I am supposed to keep things to myself.  Keep smiling, don't let anyone know I feel tired or sick.  Don't be myself.  Be a robot.  A machine. 

I don't want to.  I want to be able to cry and scream at the world about this.  I want to be able to get mad about things.  I just don't want to feel like I am fighting this battle by myself. 

Did I do this to myself?  Have I created this persona that can handle anything that's tossed at me and keep going?  Oh yea, I could have taken my diagnosis and pinned it on my shirt and been like "Nope, I don't want to work extra ... I'm sick."  But, that goes against what I have done for the last decade.  I've helped.  I'm a helper.  It's what I do ... and what I continue to do to the detriment of my own health.  I don't seek any reward for it, or any special accolades.  I am just doing what I always do.  However, I don't think I should have to be a robot in that I can't complain.   I have to listen to everyone else complain for a variety of reasons, so why can't I?  Mine are valid.  They are my complaints and that makes them valid.   Alas ... I cannot.

Shake it off, pretend nothing is bothering me, just keep swimming, just keep smiling.  Don't say anything about how you feel because it will not be received well.  It will be followed by a lecture. And really, who wants to be lectured when they feel alone?  No one.  Trust me. 

So there's that ... I also feel terribly alone and terribly sad.  Especially when I think about what's going on in my body. I get sad that something bad could happen any minute.  I think about what that will do to my brothers ... to my dog.  And then I think about the impact of losing me.   Some people would leave a trail of devastation behind them.  I would just leave a giant hole in the work schedule that needs filling.  This is the legacy I leave behind. 

Sad, isn't it?  What kind of life is that?

I'm not writing this for any attention either.  I'm just putting the words down on paper (or computer screen?) so that they stop pressing down so hard on my brain and heart.   After all, it isn't like I can say anything to anyone about it.  People don't understand and I don't expect them too.  No one can actually understand what another person is going through, even if they went through the EXACT same thing.  We all experience and process things differently. 

I'm in a deep rut.  I don't know if I feel like this from flaring up or something else?  I'm sad and quite frankly, incredibly depressed.  It feels like I am constantly sinking and I'm flailing about trying to grasp onto something for help and ... I can't grab onto anything.

It will get better.  I'm going to see my doctor on Tuesday (next Tuesday) and hopefully I will turn a corner and get better.  Even if it means taking the very dreaded, very awful, prednisone.

Sometimes, we have to do things that we don't like.  For me?  I have to do a LOT of things I don't like.  This is my life now, not much I can do about being sick, right?  Still ... I shouldn't have to keep it all to myself because people don't care to hear.  I shouldn't have to walk this road completely alone. 

No comments:

Post a Comment