This past year, with my health issues, I\u2019ve been through a lot. Sometimes, I don\u2019t give myself credit for how much I\u2019ve been through, because I\u2019m so focused on getting better, feeling better, staying alive. Every now and then, something will happen, and it\u2019s usually some little something, and I\u2019ll be reminded of just how bad things really were, and sometimes, perhaps, still are. This isn\u2019t a negative post. Stick with me here. See, I guess I don\u2019t usually see things as being as bad as they are. Part of this is my positive attitude (though admittedly, sometimes it\u2019s hard to stay positive), and part of this is because, when you\u2019re going through something, you just keep going through it. There\u2019s really no other choice besides death, and I just simply don\u2019t consider that an option. I realize some people do, or have, but I don\u2019t think that\u2019s something I could ever consider. There are days I have wished I\u2019d never been born, but there has never been a day in my life that I\u2019ve wished I were dead.<\/p>\n
And yet, death doesn\u2019t scare me. I really am not afraid of dying in the traditional sense of the fear of dying. I\u2019m not afraid of what lies beyond this life or even if there is a life beyond this life (I am certain there is more\u2026 I take comfort in that, and if I\u2019m wrong, I\u2019ll worry about being embarrassed about that after I\u2019m\u2026 oh, wait, never mind, I\u2019ll be dead.) You know, I\u2019m totally digressing, but when it comes right down to it, I think I\u2019m more worried about the things people will find out about me once I\u2019m dead. Things most don\u2019t know. You know, like how disorganized my computer is, how messy my bedroom can get, all the things I hide in my closet (not metaphorical, but literal) and why I hide them, how bad some of my writing is\/was (\u2019cause they\u2019ll see it on my computer), or even just reading some of my personal journal writings that I don\u2019t put up on the internet. I worry there might be misunderstandings and I won\u2019t be around to explain. Silly, huh?<\/p>\n
Now, sort of back on track, when I was in the hospital the last time, I was whining about the fact I\u2019m a hard stick and they had not been able to get a PICC line in me, and they were running out of places to stick me in my arms. The nurses and doctors were talking about how to stick me, such as pulling the blood from my neck (uh, no thanks). I was almost in tears. I turned to my best friend and said to her, \u201cI wonder what they would do if I ever had something really serious.\u201d<\/p>\n
She blinked, then she started laughing, then I started laughing, and we both laughed until we were crying. I mean, congestive heart failure, pulmonary arterial hypertension, multiple massive bilateral pulmonary embolisms\u2026 nope, nothing serious there.<\/p>\n
But it got me to thinking: It\u2019s all in how you look at it.<\/p>\n
IT\u2019S THE LITTLE WORDS FROM OTHERS THAT MAKE ALL THE DIFFERENCE<\/strong><\/p>\n My good writer friend Rissa Watkins was diagnosed with a type of leukemia, and she\u2019s in remission, but still receiving treatment. She and I sometimes whine to each other about all our health problems, how we miss being normal, how we hate all the medicines and needle pokes and procedures. I said to Lynn (my buffy, best friend) in the hospital that day, \u201cBut I meant something serious, like cancer, like what Rissa has.\u201d But the truth is, more people die from congestive heart failure than die from leukemia each year. It just doesn\u2019t have the \u2018cure\u2019 and organizations behind it like leukemia has. Then, one day, Rissa said to me (paraphrasing just a bit), \u201cWhat\u2019s going on with you sounds worse than what I have. It sound so awful.\u201d<\/p>\n Well, I never told her, but since she\u2019ll likely read this at some point she\u2019ll know now, hearing that from her made me cry\u2026 but in a good way. See, the truth is, there was a point during all the hospital stays and poking and nearly dying that I got angry and said, \u201cIt\u2019s not fair that someone has cancer and everyone is all supportive and rallies around, but you get something like this that\u2019s just as deadly and nobody even understands!\u201d But Rissa understood. She understood because she\u2019d been there. So here I was thinking she had it so much worse than me, and there she was thinking I had it so much worse than here. My point being again: It\u2019s all in how you look at it.<\/p>\n But to have Rissa, who I know has been through so much that she likely understands better than most what I\u2019ve gone through, say to me that what I\u2019m going through is pure hell, that meant something to me. It validated something I had been feeling inside of me, and it gave me permission to be, for a moment, strong enough to admit my weaknesses and fears.<\/p>\n BUFFY SAYS THE RIGHT THINGS<\/strong><\/p>\n A moment like this happened again the other night, this time with Buffy. I don\u2019t talk about it as much any more, because I know it gets old, and I know there will be harder moments in which I need to vent my spleen about things, but for now, let\u2019s just say that things still aren\u2019t great. Better? Oh, absolutely. Even the doctor asked me last time if I thought I was getting better, and I really, really do. But it\u2019s nowhere near good yet. My pulmonary function tests showed me functioning only at 75% of predictive, and my predictive was already low to begin with. I am still on oxygen nearly 24\/7, with a leash around my nose that gets stuck in the furniture when I try to move anywhere in the house, and makes me have to take an oxygen tank or the portable unit with me everywhere I go. It\u2019s a real pain in the ass, let me tell you.<\/p>\n But worse than the oxygen is the lack of it, that is, the breathing problems. I still cannot walk to the bathroom from the bed or the other bathroom from the recliner without my oxygen levels dropping into the low 80s, and walking to the car is excruciatingly painful \u2014 think about the worst asthma attack you\u2019ve ever seen, and this is similar to how it hits me. Even with the oxygen, when I did my 6-minute walk, I was on the highest oxygen level setting their portable machine would go to, and I was still in the upper 70s after just one lap down the hallway. I had to sit in the wheelchair halfway through, because my vision greyed out. The entire hallway was about 170 feet. I couldn\u2019t even walk 170 feet without nearly passing out and greying out and my oxygen sats dropping to dangerous levels, even with oxygen.<\/p>\n Sometimes, I get pissy with myself, and I think, \u201cOh, I\u2019m just out of shape, I need to lose some weight, I need to exercise\u2026\u201d this is sometimes compounded by what the doctors say to me too, even though they know that these things, though they might improve my breathing somewhat, are not the cause of my problems. I was breathing and moving around just fine before the embolisms, and can you believe that was just 8 months ago? Man, how my life has changed.<\/p>\n So last night, as with most nights, I was walking back from the bathroom and I crawled into bed instead of going back into the living room. I was hurting, I was panting and gasping for breath, and I was just tired\u2026 not sleepy tired, but tired. World weary, deep down, soul tired.<\/p>\n Buffy came into the room, she sat in the rocking chair beside the bed, and she looked at me. I looked back at her, still not fully caught up in my breath. She whispered, \u201cI\u2019m sorry it\u2019s so hard.\u201d<\/p>\n Well, after three days of being in pain and being pissy and angry and not knowing why, I lost it.\u00a0 I said, choked up and quietly, \u201cIt is hard.\u201d Then I started crying, because, you know, sometimes you just need to cry. Those simple words were like permission to me, to be weak for a moment, to acknowledge that, yes, it\u2019s hard, but I\u2019ll get through it. To say, \u201cI validate your feelings\u2026 I validate you and what you\u2019re going through, I acknowledge how hard you\u2019re trying.\u201d<\/p>\n Sometimes, we just need to be validated, to feel someone understands or just even sees how hard we try.<\/p>\n I VALIDATE YOU!<\/strong><\/p>\n It\u2019s the same with my writing, in that one reader\u2019s review that is positive validates me. I don\u2019t write to get reviewed. I do write to be read, but I don\u2019t really care if someone loves my work or hates it, if it makes them think, feel something or just simply entertains, but when you are a writer, you are often in a solitary void, a vacuum without validation. That\u2019s what reviews do for writers: they validate us. If you\u2019re a reader, even if you\u2019re another writer, please leave reviews when you enjoy a book or story. It makes a huge difference to us. A lot of people don\u2019t realize how much work and time and emotion goes into writing a good piece of fiction, how we live with these characters like they are real to us, how we experience all their feelings, and we do this mostly alone, since we rarely have anyone who understands grieving for a character, or hurting or being angry because some fake person in our writing did something. Your reviews help keep us as sane as any writer can be.<\/p>\n To all my friends, all of you who post comments on Facebook and here, on my forum, on my writings, and anywhere else I might wander in the internet universe, I need you to know how important you are to me and my sanity. How you are what keeps me going sometimes, when I don\u2019t feel I want to keep going with things\u2026 not life in general, but writing, or sharing, or fighting, or struggling or whatever it is I need to do. I can post an update, post a blog, get your feedback and feel like I might really have the strength to keep going. The simple words DO mean something. The DO make an impact.<\/p>\n If you\u2019re writer, realize that yourself. The simple words make an impact. Don\u2019t try to make grand speeches for your characters. Don\u2019t write purple prose and flowery metaphors and struggle to make something perfect \u2013 human beings aren\u2019t perfect.<\/p>\n Sometimes, the best things are found in the simple words: \u201cI\u2019m sorry it\u2019s so hard for you.\u201d \u201cI wish you didn\u2019t have to experience this.\u201d \u201cThis sounds so awful.\u201d Validation. Support. Empathy. Understanding.<\/p>\n You don\u2019t have to DO anything to make a difference. Just BE there. You don\u2019t have to SAY anything to make a difference. Just let someone know you listened. It matters.<\/p>\n And when you do that, you\u2019ll see things in a new light in your own life too. There\u2019s nothing so bad, so awful, so horrible, that you can\u2019t get through it, especially when you consider all that others have gone through and survived. If they can do it, you can too \u2014 it\u2019s not cliche\u2026 it really is all in how you look at it.<\/p>\n Love and stuff, <\/p>\n \u00a0PS: Quite honestly, I hate taking Lasix (a diuretic\u2013water pill) almost as much as I hate getting stuck with needles! I think I will just move my computer into the bathroom and make it my office!<\/em>\u00a0I\u2019ve only had to go pee seven times while writing this post! Yes, yes, you needed, NEEDED, to know that.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" This past year, with my health issues, I\u2019ve been through a lot. Sometimes, I don\u2019t give myself credit for how much I\u2019ve been through, because I\u2019m so focused on getting better, feeling better, staying alive. Every now and then, something will happen, and it\u2019s usually some little something, and I\u2019ll be reminded of just how […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-598","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"yoast_head":"\n
\nMichy<\/p>\n