A couple of weeks ago I opened my eyes, looked at the iPhone on the coffee table and realized I had slept from 10:30 last night without waking. I was basically in the same position I started in, on the couch and curled up in a semi-fetal position. 7:30 in the morning, with hints of sun coming through the front window.
Within 30 seconds of waking, I also realized that the overwhelming nausea I had felt for the last 6 days was gone completely. My pain level that morning was the lowest it had been in several weeks. The normal feeling of aching in every joint was gone, maybe not completely, but enough my mind was not attuned to it. For once pain was not a constant distraction.
I fell into a somewhat euphoric state, I was finally free again. That’s honestly the best way to describe it. I was free of the nausea, body and nerve pain. It was like my health and illness had enslaved me, and I felt “normal”, like I was a friggin’ human being who can enjoy life.
I was over the top with happiness, a real rare event in my life. When the missus came down the stairs with the hounds I told her the same thing over and over,
“It is so nice not to feel sick. It’s just so nice.”
What a burden it’s been, and knowing this feeling won’t last forever, I intended to take advantage of it by simply taking my dogs for a good walk and breathing in some fresh air. I had been imprisoned in my own bed for the past 6 days, and needed to feel a breeze and the sun. I had lost touch with Mother Earth. No I’m not a tree hugger or whatever, but believe we are all the offspring of this planet, and still require it to nurture us in so many ways. We weren’t intended to live in caves, blind to the sun that warms us all.
When I’m in the depth of sickness, the three “Evils” build on themselves. No sleep means more pain followed by the inevitable pull downward. The longer the period of physically feeling like absolute crap the deeper I sink mentally
This last time scared me more than others. It feels like I go a little further down each time these episodes come on. It’s wearing at me more and more, to the point I was making a mental note of all the PSA’s (public service announcements) about calling 988 in times of crisis. Maybe there is hope, or a caring voice at least, if I get that bad.
I had given up on ever feeling the happiness I felt that morning, but there it was. That sounds overly dramatic, but when you spend half your life sick, for days on end, you begin to doubt how much more you can take.
I have to remind myself the pain and depression is very real and the happiness I felt that morning more than warranted. I have a right to feel great for how ever long it lasts…
I realize I’ll get sick again, as it doesn’t seem to ever go away, but just have to convince myself there will be good days still. Wait for them to come, what else can I do?