The beautiful thing about being gravely ill, miserably ill, seriously ill is that when you recover, it's an indescribable wonderful feeling. It's absolute elation recovering what you'd lost or struggled with.
For a while, I feel free. I suddenly feel powerful again that I can breathe easier and love just moving, twirling and taking breaths without losing them or struggling.
Having this past week's GI illness, I was miserable, in uncontrollable pain, sleeping more than awake and wondering if these vague symptoms are permanent. Maybe that's what separates the feeling of elation when I heal from the feeling of "whatever" when someone healthy recovers.
When I was healthy, I pushed myself to recover, pissed that feeling sick was interfering with whatever I had planned. I mostly ignored the problem, complaining, knowing it would go away eventually.
Now every cough or sniffle could be the door of the pearly gates slipping open. I appreciate recovering to a point I can get out of bed, shower, and get in clean clothes. That's success.
I generally can fake health to get x ready and off somewhere. Last week, for the first time ever (believe it or not) I overslept an hour past when the bus gets x. He said he tried to wake me up....... Sure he did.
All this sickness also makes me appreciate the daily grind. Getting x off to school, the am scramble which some people loathe, is an exciting bonding time in our day. That's because I know I'm lucky to have these moments.
Recovering is even better. Finally my body is comfortable again (or at least tolerable) and I can do things, simple things, like go into society to get my own milk, make meals etc. If I'm well enough to grocery shop, that's a big gold star for me.
And guess who did just that?
You guessed it. My husband.
Just kidding. He did do preliminary shopping when we got back from our trip. I was able to do a quick trip to get the rest with the help of my mom and two 8 year olds in tow, of course.
On the upswing, I made my bone marrow soup. I haven't replenished my chinese tea concoction since july and aug. are awful scary bill months. And by awful and scary, I mean, worse than usual.
Aug is birthday month for j and I (the 17th and 16th, respectively) which means car registrations and inspections and repairs that may come with that, like brakes and a rotor for j's car and brakes for mine.
J's getting is hands dirty to fix his own car with his dad helping and hopefully x watching. I always wanted to know how to repair cars. I can't even change my oil (I can change a tire). I want x to know cars and more than basics.
Then we have bi-yearly insurances and taxes, back to school stuff. It's awful every year but at least I'm healthy enough to enjoy it.
Sorry for the tangent, the bills are just the first major stressor that pops back into my life after struggling to gain livelihood back.
I guess that is where the tangent came from, who knows?
At least I know why the sick smile and sing on their good days, even if they suffer more on their best day than most other's will ever. I'm lucky to know the secret and to have the feeling, the joy or healing.