Brain fog kicked in when I was writing my last post. I lost my train of thought and never came back around to something I really wanted to write about. Then fatigue kicked in and stopped me from proofreading my post. I hate to think about all of the typos, but by not rereading it I also never realized what I forgot to write. So here’s what I would have included:
There’s a danger in having such high hopes. The great thing is that it’s helping me to feel positive, to look towards a brighter future, to feel that there’s potential for and improved quality of life. But the downside is that it might not work. I could be completely wrong. My symptoms could be from another condition or from many conditions. Or maybe I’m right about the problem but for some reason it can’t be fixed. What then?
We all go through many stages of acceptance with our illnesses. I went through denial and depression and anger before finally accepting my condition. Then I got a new diagnosis and I went through it all again. Two years ago I thought there was no hope at all for improvement. I desperately hoped to find a way to slow down the progression, but I couldn’t find what it might be. I felt that what I had was permanent and would only get worse. Even remembering that now, typing these words, my eyes are filling with tears. It was a difficult time.
And then I took matters into my own hands. I read books, called medical professionals around the country, spoke to other patients, and slowly, very slowly, got an idea of what was going on with my body. That is what has brought me to where I am now.
My current status isn’t great. I know that. But I also know that it could be worse. It was worse. It was worse just two years ago. And that tells me that even if I can’t improve the way I want to, at least I may be able to prevent a backslide to where I was, at least for a while. It also tells me that even if I’m wrong about my current problem, I may be able to figure out another course of action. I may be impatient, but I’m also stubborn as hell. I get annoyed at how stubborn my parents and grandparents can be, but I also thank them for it. After all, they passed that stubbornness on to me, and it is what’s keeping me going, propelling me to move forward, and making me refuse to accept defeat from my illness.
I know I might be wrong about my current health plan. I know that. But I also know that I lived without hope for improvement for many, many years and I managed. I also know that in the long term I can keep a somewhat reasonable level of health; at least, it’s better than what I had before. Finally, I know that I will not give up in the long term. Sure, maybe I’ll give up for short periods of time, but overall, I’ll keep fighting. I’ll hold on to the stubbornness.