One week into this challenge. One week of looking daily for my one moment of reflection. Joy. Positivity. Light. I’m telling you, it’s easier than you think. And writing each day has done wonders for my soul. There is a transference of energy that takes place… and I feel differently before I write than I do after. Whatever brain buzzing and swirling of thoughts and feels that course through my head, when I get it out and leave it on paper or in my phone or laptop, I feel lighter. Like I just breathed out some of the heaviness I had been holding in my lungs. Or, perhaps more accurately, it’s sort of like unzippering a cumbersome duffel bag I didn’t even realize I’d been carrying, and letting out these heavy buzzing bricks that move and shake and whir. When I’m done writing, it’s like I zip the bag back up and keep walking, 10 pounds lighter. Who needs buzzing bricks in their bag anyway ?.
Doctor’s Appointments and Trips Down Memory Lane
So. It’s funny, sometimes, how life works. Today, I had an overdue appointment with my dermatologist to do a once over to make sure that my countless freckles and moles and cherry angiomas of Irish descent are all present and accounted for, and not secretly trying to morph into cancer. I didn’t think much of it, as I drove over to the new location for my dermatologist’s office, now nestled within the giant PENN campus in our town. I parked in the garage, sort of jogged down the stairs and came into the sunlight again walking up to the entrance. That’s when it all came flooding back to me.
The last time I was here was back in 2018. I had appointments in this same building, sometimes multiple specialties in a day or in a week. Primary care. Neurology. Cardiology. I watched the faces of my caregivers as numbers came back on machines that weren’t within normal limits and with a not-super-reassuring voice say that they would be right back. From here I had been sent to Cardiology to pick up a halter monitor. Other times, they sent me straight to the ER. There was one time my mom had to drop me off at the front and go to park the car because I couldn’t walk that far. Other times, I held onto my husband’s arm as we shuffled in to the door slowly, together. Every time we would come out of the dark parking garage and into the light, I remember feeling the sun screaming at me, and I would slump down and close my eyes and take these small, minimally productive steps, moving my 18-pounds-lighter frame devoid almost entirely of muscle tone and fun fat, closer to the building. My husband would speak for me and handle insurance information as I sat like a useless lump in the chair. If there was an option for an elevator, we took it. Sometimes we would even use wheel chairs. I was 38. A formerly fit, fun, happy human, during that period of time I was in such such pain that I couldn’t think, let alone worry about my predicament. I would listen from my bed to my typically optimistic husband on the phone as he would say on the other side of my closed bedroom door, “yeah…it’s pretty bad…” and try to brainstorm with his friends from medical school and residency who were scattered around the country in varying specialties to see if anyone could help to come up with the root cause of all of this.
In the end, the cause of this pain, was from my birth control. A Mirena IUD. My pediatric dermatologist husband was the one who continued to research and question and wonder about this one lingering thing that, after tentative diagnoses of Lyme, viral meningitis, a tick- or mosquito-borne encephalitis, a concussion (without a hit), headache NOS and multiple sclerosis (MS), didn’t really make sense or pan out. Turns out that intracranial hypertension is a side effect of this drug. 8 months in bed with 4 children at home. Hypersensitive to noise, neck pain, strain and difficulty moving my eyes, severe headache, shuffling unsteady gait, and the inability to regulate simple body physiology when moving from laying down to standing up – I would sweat, grow pale and clammy, and my heart would race and couldn’t stabilize. It was a nightmare.
It was so interesting today to walk these same halls and sit in these same waiting rooms, feeling like a totally different person. A healed version of the shadow of a woman I was during those 8 months. I feel so strong and so healthy and so well now. Inside and out. I remember thinking back then at my lowest weight, looking scary and peakid, that I should never ever again worry when the scale revealed I was carrying a few extra pounds….that exist because of a few fun happy hours, or nights out with friends where we would drink and laugh till the wee hours.
I remember thinking even then though, that there were people in far worse situations. I remember updating a friend of mine who had breast cancer, and who checked on me after every appointment and MRI and CAT scan, and I said “gosh, I don’t mean to complain, I mean…compared to cancer this is nothing.” She told me then, my sage wise friend, that “suffering is suffering.” And she’s right. There’s no scale of hurt. Or reason to compare.
Today, I simply bear witness to the version of myself who was blinded by the light coming out of the parking garage. I want to shine love from my present self back to that former version of me… and also to any of you out there who are currently gritting your teeth in pain from heartache or stress or illness or loss. All I know is that when you’re in that zone, it’s so so hard. There is no magic potion to sip or time-lapse feature we can sprinkle on to fast forward through the yuck. We can only trust that one day we will move beyond it and hope that you might be able to look back one day and have your future self send love to the person you are on this day.
This day is all we’ve got. If you’ve come far from a rough spot and today you’re shining, I raise my coffee mug and send a heartfelt cheers to you. And if you’re down and in a hole praying for a hand to help… know that I’m here and am glad to be a listening ear. ? For better or worse, this too shall pass.
This was a great post. My mother used to say “Everything is temporary, good and bad”. She was right. Years ago I had a health nightmare that lasted 15 months. Afterwards, It brought me gratitude and appreciation not only for my health , for my doctors, my family and friends but also for the fact that ,in a short period of time, you learn so many things during this crisis that would normally take you many more years.
Lida Rosle
Hi, Lida! Thank you so much for sharing your experience. It is so true, what your mother said. My Nana always says “peaks and valleys.” It’s the same: when it’s joyful, soak it up, one day that will go. When it’s crummy, hold on, but that day will go as well. I love to hear that you, too, sought out the positive and took deep gratitude from such a difficult time. Sending you so much love and thank you so much for sharing your thoughts!! ?