I'm getting to an age where more peers are encountering health problems. I feel empathy. Although selfishly this also makes me sad because I know my window to improve or get better before my body ages is closing fast (aka unlikely).
I've had a tough week healthwise so I'm feeling blue, whiney, and sorry for myself.
Some good things have happened lately. After a hospital visit a couple weeks ago, my dad has stabilized due to some medication adjustments. He is by no means better, but he's holding for now. I also got a week or so off around labour day and spent four days in the woods on a lake. For two of them a friend joined me. It was so mentally and emotionally healing.
As for this most recent crash/relapse, it's likely because I'm doing too much. Day after day after day. Last Sunday I drove out to watch a dog thing and I shouldn't have. Monday I woke up crashed (expected) but a week later, I'm still waking up every day crashed. It really hurts/aches to take a deep breath, like there's a deep seated infection in there. My gut is off, I'm lightheaded most the time, and I feel fluy, achy, sore throat, completely wiped out and just overall awful. And yet no one can tell from the outside, and I feel there is no one TO tell.
Seriously no-one seems to give a rat's ass. Why would they? It's gone on so long. No one ever asks how I'm doing anymore. Maybe I've scared them off because years ago when people asked I always felt awkward and embarrassed that I was still so sick (but looked fine). I would deflect.
And what do you say to "How are you?" when the truth sucks so much? "I still feel like bunk every single friggn day, some days and hours are worse than others but there are no words to describe how sick I am all the time."
I feel so alone and unsupported. Being this sick constantly with two invisible illnesses makes life incredibly isolating. Add to that - when I do interact, all anyone seems to point out regarding health is either what I've managed (to force myself to do) or that I look great/okay. It is so lonely making I can barely stand it, particularly on my crash days. It's like I'm physically fighting this horrible monster that's trying to ravage my body - no one can see - it thus it's typically downplayed or completely unacknowledged.
I really feel that outside my dad and the dogs, there is no-one who'd more than bat an eye if I dropped off the face of the earth.
On that cheery note, here are some photos of my camping for the stalwart folks who still read my depressing rants and vents (thank you by the way). I'd love to hear how you are doing (honestly) in the comments - whether you have a chronic illness or not.
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| Please can we come in the tent? |
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| There were cool mushrooms everywhere |
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| Up in time to watch the sunrise with a cup of coffee |
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| A rare snuggle from Rip |
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| When you lay on the ground a lot you notice the trees and sky |
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| Sunrise paddle on glass |
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| Selfie with my old gal |
