Thankful For My Normal
Living in a quarantine doesn’t take away the the enormous stress and pain caused by chronic illness. In fact, my stress and anxiety has gone through the roof. My pain levels are still terrible and my treatments, inadequate. The few hours of feeling “my normal” are a blessing and what I look forward to. Though these are few and far between, I’m giving thanks for them.
My body does hate me. It’s a scientific fact that my body is attacking itself every minute of the day (and night). I can feel this war daily as it causes me pain, nausea, and fatigue. The last few weeks have been filled with overwhelming fatigue. I describe it to my husband this way: It feels like a vampire has drained all my blood.
I feel fatigue that is probably Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, because all I usually feel like doing is resting and sleeping. Just lifting my fingers or hands a few inches is hard work. I have to rest after every small task.
Things That Helped Stress
- Breathing – slowly
- Massage – husband helps
- Distraction – watching favorite shows, reading, hobby
Living like this really gets me down. I don’t always feel depressed, but there are days when I do. When I go for many days of being totally drained my brain feels drained, too. The brain fog and exhaustion overwhelms my emotions. Thankfully, it doesn’t last.
When there is a break in the brain fog and high level of fatigue, I may feel a wonderful feeling: my normal health appears and my brain fog is gone….. Although it is short-lived it gives me a relief of the horrible symptoms and lets my spirit rest.
Yesterday, I experienced about four hours of relief. My vision cleared, my brain fog lifted, and I just felt my regular level of fatigue. During this time, I didn’t get up and try to accomplish chores. I just stretched out in my recliner and relished the moments. They were beautiful. I thanked God.
Disclaimer: I’m not a medical expert, and these words are not meant to be medical advice. If you have a medical concern, please consult your personal physician.
@2020, copyright Lisa Ehrman