Insomnia Driven Musings

If you ask someone where they'd like to be a year from now, most have all kinds of grand answers. They want to graduate, or get a promotion, or obtain the ever elusive bikini body, or be married, or have a child, or travel some place glorious. They see themselves reaching goals. Moving forward. Building a life. I wasn't any different. I wanted two or three jiu jitsu belts, to be a successful nutritionist, find a nice boy to date, move out. And I had no reason to believe I wouldn't obtain these things because like most people, I assumed I had all the time and opportunities I needed. This month marks a full year since this medical journey began. And what I've learned this past year is that if I'd known or had any inkling of what it would be like, I'd have done a great many things differently. I'd have been pushier that first time I went to the ER and not let them send me home with a few pills so that maybe I could have emerged with my reproductive system and fertility intact. I'd have been a lot less nonchalant laying in the hospital for days sort of enjoying the break and the attention (and the morphine). I'd have been a lot more concerned about that surgery if I'd know what it would do to my nerves and how much damage I'd still have a year later. I'd have stood up to the doctors who thought it was okay to call me out of the blue one day on the phone and say "You have cancer, but we think we got it all. But we'll have to check" and the doctor who told me there was absolutely nothing more she could do for my pelvic pain because she'd already operated and couldn't see anything else to fix. I'd have fought harder when I went to the ER with a cyst bleeding into me and they sent me home, if I'd known the shape my pelvis is in now. I'd have eaten healthier and kept at the rehab workouts I started so that maybe this autoimmune stuff wouldn't have progressed. What I'm saying is that in no form did I conceive that I wouldn't be perfectly mended and back to normal by now. And really, nothing turns out the way anyone pictures it. But I still struggle with this reality. I pictured a healthy, vibrant, healed life.  I guess I thought I could compartmentalize that whole episode and everything would go back to normal. Nothing is normal anymore, but I can say that some good did come of it. I'm a far stronger person now, and looking back on an entire year of pain and sickness and procedure after procedure that I braved shows me that I have the capacity to overcome much more than I'd have given myself credit for. The love and support that I've received from family and friends and coworkers has been amazing and has let me know what great people I have in my life. If I had hopes for this next year, they'd be very similar to the ones I had last year. There are some things I'll plan and strive for but I know that realistically it won't be the year I hope for. Some days that's a bitter, bitter thing. The other days I try to steel myself and remember that where there is life, there's hope. And just because it may not be the year I want doesn't mean it can't be a good one in ways. There are times where I want to throw in the towel. To simply stop working, be on disability, stock up on pills, stay at home, and live the medical life I seem ordained to live. But I don't want that life. I'm not ready to give up on the dream of having a normal life where I get to do everything I dream. I'm not ready to let go of that yet. So while, having learned what I've learned, I will curb my expectations of what the next year brings, I won't give up hoping and fighting.

I may wish things were different. But as Gandalf says, "So do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.".