I have lived, learned, lost and loved....and though it has been two months since the primary infection has cleared, I have entered into a new stage of this journey: healing.
This is the phase where all the initial shock has worn off and everyone has stopped holding their breath, but I haven't.
I live in constant fear of it coming back. I continue to do regularly scheduled treatment and feel the side effects. I carry multiple bottles of medication just in case. But I don't talk about it anymore. I am afraid of how others will look at me, how they'll treat me. I have realized when you have an ongoing illness people don't know how to respond. There really is so many times you can hear the words "I'm sorry" and "that sucks" before you just learn not to mention it anymore.
There were many days I just wanted to shut the world out and hide under the covers, and honestly sometimes that is just what I did. I began to let the illness rule my life. When people would ask how I was feeling I'd merely respond, "I have good days and bad days." I was truthful but vague.
People that have not been through something like this can't understand that even though the infection has passed and healing has begun it still is a process. I met with my specialist last week and she fully expects it to take another six months before I am fully recovered. There are days that I experience a lot of pain, it is unexpected and can knock me right off my feet. I use to classify these as my 'bad days.'
But I'm tired of saying 'it is a bad day.' Just because I'm having pain does not mean the whole day is bad. I have recently started calling it a 'healing day.' I no longer let my healing interfere with my daily life. I make the effort to go out on dates with my husband, attend Army functions, go to work and laugh with friends. Since changing my attitude I have noticed that my 'healing days' are fewer and further between.
Four more months of treatment is what I left but that is nothing compared to how far we have come. And yes I mean we, I was not on this journey alone by any means. Throughout the last several months people have continually asked how I am coping, but nobody has ever once how my husband is handling everything.
He was my rock through all of this.
He loved me through every treatment...
Every hospital visit...
Every tearful day....
And every painful night.
I would not have made it to the point of healing if it wasn't for him. He had to stand by helplessly as I struggled to maintain the pain and question every aspect of this situation. Honestly I think this was harder on him than me. I saw how hard it was for him to leave for work knowing that I was home alone having a difficult time. He is my hero for all the times he cheered me up with ICEEs and hugs.
If I have learned nothing else it is that healing takes time, it takes patience. I am still fighting for the day when this all can be a distant memory. But until then it is just a process....
<3 JT
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