It was a very bad day and for some reason I just started to cry. As my achy body that brought the phone to the bathroom with my in case I would "fall and can't get up"...the entire routine, the not making it to the doctor today because I had to turn around as I felt dizzy and unwell. The manifestation of symptoms that have been dormant for a few weeks and even months have begun to surface. It just seemed like the only thing to do was to cry. Not a sobbing cry or a I feel so bad for myself cry, just I don't know what else to do right now and the tears just seemed to be the only release. Then I got out of the bathroom, leaned against my wall of good wishes, and looked in the mirror. And there was this voice in my head that screamed..."you can't cry in cashmere pajamas!!!" You can be angry with this illness, you can be disappointed in this life that you did not imagine, but damn you will not cry when you are headed to a comfy bed in comfy clothes despite the very uncomfortable body and you will begin again tomorrow.
So far "tomorrow" has been anything but pleasant. I am so fatigued that typing seems like exercise, lifting a glass feels like picking up a dumb bell and my faith and hope are being tested. I picked up the phone and asked for help, I need to take a shower but didn't want to do it home alone...so my friend is coming over. I picked up the phone and called for someone to take me to the doctor, so I am not forced to turn around today. And I am closing my eyes and repeating that I have been in this place before and it will pass...it will pass...it will pass...but I am so tired of waiting and times like this it's hard not to be scared that all it ever will be is waiting for a different tomorrow that may never fully arrive. The bad days are just apart of this illness, the inconsistent path to wellness, it's measured in months and years not days. So today and yesterday that is all they are - bad DAYS...and I must remember that I have been in this spot before and I have left it before. And until then at least I am wearing cashmere pajamas. When the fatigue gets this bad, sometimes I get scared to close my eyes worried perhaps I won't wake up. This is the ugly brutal exhausting part of this illness that is no longer an illness it is your life.