I was a busy, active person until I got clotheslined by disease. It’s the same story for many people who are diagnosed with chronic illness while in their “prime”. We attempt to maintain the same level of activity and lifestyle, until eventually, our bodies say “fuck this shit, I’m out.”
The biggest challenge I wrestle with is getting my mind to submit to my physical limitations. I have plans, ideas, and goals, most of which I’ll probably never accomplish. It doesn’t hurt to dream. Without direction or purpose, what am I left with? Me, myself, and all of my broken parts. I’ve somewhat adjusted to being a floater, but I still have my difficulties.
I’m supposed to travel to Grand Rapids in six weeks to be a bridesmaid in Jay & Rich’s wedding. They’ve been kind enough to make some modifications for me, mainly making sure there’s a chair or a stool near the place vows will be exchanged, in case I need to sit RIGHTNOW. As much as it bothers me, I also told them my presence isn’t guaranteed. When I said “yes!!”, I was hoping I’d find my health taking an upturn, or feel just a smidgen better at the very least.
As the weeks creep by, and I continue to struggle with simple tasks, I’m filled with doubt. I don’t want to let them down. Instead of being excited that I get to spend time with them and sit at the table of royalty, I find myself stressing over the details of travel, lodging, and figuring out how in the hell I’m going to squeeze three whole good-enough days out of myself.
I need to quit it with the worrying. The only way to find out what will happen is to go. If I have to wear a diaper and carry a decorative emesis bag in order to make it through, so be it. I’ll also need to order the dress. Time is wasting, I’d better get crackin’!
*not so secretly dreading the prospect of dropping $150 on a dress that I may not even get to wear*