March 18, 2017
Sometimes I feel morose and jealous when I see people around me living their lives the way I wanted to. I see their smiling faces on instagram and the breath taking places they’re exploring and the sense of loss overtakes me. I see their chubby babies, the children with their siblings, their business trips and nights out and I grieve for the life that was taken from me.
My friends are living my life. In my despair I imagine a life that would be perfect if I was healthy, a lie I know, but one that’s so easy to grasp onto. Today that feeling is hard to shake.
I had an absolutely abysmal day yesterday, that started the previous night. I had visited a good friend in the hospital who had just birthed an adorable and healthy baby girl, her third child in 4 years. She was glowing and an incredible energy to be around. I cuddled the sleeping infant and took in that delightful new baby smell. It was a wonderful visit and I was glad I could be there to take pictures of the happy family for their scrapbooks.
It wore me out completely however. The walk to the ward seemed particularly long even with my cane. I had to rest for 20min before I trusted myself to hold the baby, even sitting down. The walk to and from my car left me panting and sweating. When I got home I made it to the couch and stayed there until it was time to cook supper, which I never did eat. I went to bed at 6pm, and consider myself unconscious until 10. I was aware of my husband touching my forehead, which started out feverish and ended up cold and clammy, but I was unable to open my eyes or change my position. Around 10 I got up, had a bowl of cereal and an Aleve and went back to bed.
The next day was horrid. I didn’t even finish my coffee before I went back to bed. I was extremely weak, every time I stood up my chest pounded like it was trying to break free. My son didn’t have school so he was with me throughout the day as I drifted in and out of sleep, catering only to his most basic needs when I was able. I wanted to take him to daycare so he didn’t need to witness me in that state but it was impossible. I could hardly make it to the bathroom let alone outside.
It wasn’t until late afternoon, after hours of fitful sleep, almost 2L of V8 juice (with added salt), Gatorade and water, that I started feeling human again. My son and I went outside, I sat on the sidewalk and he did experiments with the melting Spring snow and mud. When my husband asked him about his day he somehow only had good things to say about hanging out with Mom, watching TV and playing in bed. I’m so lucky to have that wonderful boy in my life.
Today’s a better day.