Let me begin by explaining that my day has been one big grab bag of emotions. I’m talking all the feels. I awoke feeling excessively nervous about the scans and appointment I had later in the afternoon. To remedy this, I made an executive decision to listen to the most emotional playlist possible as I drove to the hospital, working myself into an entirely unnecessary ball of anxiety.
These feelings only continued as I laid there within the cold, white washed walls of the hospital dressed in one of the same plainly patterned hospital gowns I’d stripped down into time and time again.
“Breathe in.” … “Hold it.”… “Okay, go ahead and breathe normally again.” …
And repeat. The whole time all I was able to envision was my doctor opening the door to my room and relaying some sort of bad news. Perhaps my surgery had only been temporarily successful. Maybe there was a reason that I had been feeling so off for the past few days. I mean, the other day I slept for like 18 hours and then some. Not so normal. Maybe this kind of thinking is cynical, but after years of receiving anything but good news, it’s what I’d come to expect.
BUT here’s what really happened:
My doctor waltzed into my room grinning and in that moment all of the fear I’d spent the past 24 hours worrying about lifted. He went on to explain that aside from some residual inflammation causing my pain and fatigue, everything looked fine. In fact, it actually looked good and I looked good. I looked healthy. UM, WHAT!? It was at this point that he gave me a big hug and we did a hilarious little dance with some happy tears added in there. What can I say? He’s been in it with me through it all and I’m sure he was just as relieved to be delivering good news as I was to hear it. That’s not to say that I’m not still sick, because I am. My bladder still doesn’t work, my digestive tract is failing, my migraines are among the some of the worst my doctor has seen, and my autonomic nervous system still sucks. My body isn’t “normal” (wow, I hate that word) and it probably won’t be for a long time. Maybe not ever, but for the first time in over two years I am not relying on round-the-clock pain medication to function. For the first time in what feels like for-freaking-ever, I feel like a human being that is present and aware and able and in awe of everything I have been gifted.
Right now I am okay. Actually, I’m good and that, THAT is what matters.
And damn, it’s a monumental feeling.