Friday – Entry 35:
We all deal with problems. Some of our problems are worse than others, some lesser. My problems seem to be health related. I realize they're not degenerative, or deadly, or even crippling, but they do make life just that much more difficult to manage. So I write about it. I write to communicate. I write to connect. I write to express. I write to cope. What follows is my attempt to cope and be positive. I am discouraged, but I can't allow it to become depression, so I write to be free of it.
On August 21st, I became sick. Although I rushed in to see somebody at the Instacare clinic, they laughed and said that it was only a three day virus and there was nothing to worry about, but I had been down this road before. I had felt this sick before. I was very worried. I didn't want to go into the sickest months of the year with the same nasty illness I had leaving the last Winter.
The good news is that my blood pressure is 128/86. Considering that I was 187/111 last January, the highest I had ever been in my life, to be at the lowest point since 2006 was good news indeed. I've been working hard to lower my blood pressure, taking all my meds faithfully, and changing my diet. I'm glad to see such positive results. The bad news is that I have what I had last Winter: some stupid mystery virus/cold/asthma thingie. It knocks me on my butt. I often blackout—for lack of a better word—while coughing, which is a new symptom. My children say my face gets bright purple. It's not fun. In fact, being sick is downright boring. It severely curtails my physical exercise, and my doctor is putting me on a steroid again, so I'm going to have to cut my portions or I'll gain planetary mass and affect Earth's gravity. Ah, Dunkin' Donuts. It's a good thing your new location down the street from me is not built yet.
Apparently, this is how the rest of my life is going to be. It's a chronic condition due to my low immunity system and history of bronchitis. I have to accept the fact that I am not going to “get better”, though I will flourish in the dry summer days. (And oh, did I enjoy them. I walked 5K 3–4 times a week in the glorious sunshine.) I must now learn to function and be productive while sickly. It's not the life I would have chosen for myself, but it's the one I've been given so I have to make the best of it. Some may feel that I should have had this realization before, but I could not. I was too busy reeling and dealing from the sickness—too busy trying to survive.
Some people on Facebook wanted me to stop counting the days of my illness last Winter, as if it was some kind of negative voodoo that perpetuated the problem. I suppose they were concerned I was depressing myself, or maybe they thought I was feeling sorry for myself. Maybe they were embarrassed for me. Facebook is filled with many strangers all too willing to pass judgement on my life. I'm not upset, though. I'm the one compelled to write and express myself publicly, and if I'm going to express myself publicly, I must always be prepared for public opinions on what I express. However, since I will likely be sick from now until next Spring there won't be a point in counting the days (25), so my critics should be pleased.
I'm not giving up, however. I'm taking more tests. I'll be seeing a radiologist on Monday and an immunologist on Tuesday. Maybe I'll find a name and a cure for what I have. Somewhere I'll make time to write. We'll see. This is all a bit much on top of ADHD, Depression, a tic disorder & single parenthood. It can be overwhelming, but life is still good. My children love me. My family cares. I have good friends. I will survive. I always do.
