When My #ChronicallyAwesome Reality Throat Punched Me
“Mommy, please don’t die today…”
Her words sank into my veins, heart and head more so than any of my doctors had in recent months. The reality of the situation, of my life, came suddenly into crystal clear view. There I stood again, overworked, exhausted and alone; clutching my chest, keeping track of how my sketchy heart was pumping too hard on my right side, and barely on my left. I could feel the paleness sinking in to my skin, and knew I was down to moments before collapse. Giving my last directions to them on my way to bed, her wrinkled, worried forehead caught my eye long enough to read her lips as the words flowed out: “Mommy, please don’t die today.”
Truth be told, I burned up that double-ended candle a few weeks ago. I’ve been spending more time purposefully ignoring every symptom, new or old, because right now my life is just too busy and too fast, and quite frankly, I’m holding on by a damn thread. I am tired and exhausted from having labs twice a week, appointments every time I blink, work, life, kids, stress, jobS, and having my medical chart weigh heavily on my brain every single day. In my cycle of sickness and health (which is obviously more like the cycle of sickness and trying-to-stay-alive) I get burnt out every few years, and I am definitely there now, and working on pulling myself back out of that dark hole. (Working on it so much, in fact, that those heavy meds will be starting again in the next few days; and I’ll have a whole new cardio doc and testing, too.)
I was scolded this week by some of my medical team. Scolded and reminded of just how my poor decisions are affecting my insides, and outsides. They just kept repeating “your poor decisions,” so much that I’ve had nightmares about it every night this week. Maybe you’re wondering what my poor decisions are. In my life, poor decisions are being an entrepreneur and eating food that is not the consistency of pudding, or thinner. Stress in all forms and adrenaline rushes literally take minutes off of my life, and my organ’s life expectancy. Here lately, those things are all I have had. All I have been pushing myself to do. Because in my head, making my business grow, trying to save my marriage, volunteering, taking care of the kids, the house, nourishing my body, and everything… that’s what gives me the feels. My purpose, maybe. I just can’t wrap my head around how my “poor decisions” are really that poor. Know how it feels when people just keep telling you that you’ll have to quit? Know how it feels when people ignore what’s often screaming in front of their faces? That slowing down is your only option to avoid permanent tubes, wires, and infusions? Disability? HELL NO! So, hey! Just walk away from your life, your dreams, and your abilities. Yeah right. Do they know me?
“Don’t worry,” I heard myself respond. “I’ve got this. I just need a little while.” I’ve said it so many times lately, and in her entire life. Her words dove straight to my heart, and those next four hours I spent that day with my head in the toilet desperately trying to regain myself, the silence settled in again. I am not ready to walk away from my work- ANY of it. Those that tell me to slow down feel like they are on another team. The “other” team. I’ve lost so many members of my team that it has become a personal goal to give the finger to everyone who has walked away. How could they? When I needed them most? When I was there for them in their time of need? So, I adjust again. This time to my own team, to prove something; even just to myself and the kids. That in any situation, you can still thrive, grow, and make strides. You can absolutely achieve your goals.
After about four hours, I emerged finally able to check in with them for a few minutes, before heading back to bed. “Hey Mommy!” their smiles lit up my life. “Easy now, go slow.” They reminded before I made it to the couch, one now with her arm around my waist. I hate that they deal with my illnesses just as I do, and I hate that they worry that each time I fall, it might be the last. I hate that this will be the rest of our lives, until it isn’t. The best things I will have ever had a hand in are them. They are my best, my worst, and my everything. My favorite job that I refuse to fail at- even when I feel that I am. Looking at them, listening to them, I know I am not. And now, as I make it a point to work on slowing down in my own ways to make it all work, hoping I can balance it all, those words will be my best reminder and motivator to do better: “Mommy, please don’t die today…”
SkyeFalcon™©2017
I love you! ♡♡ You are amazing not a failure in anything you do!