Punchy with fatigue at the end of the day, my husband and I were talking about my recent medical emergencies. I dare say, I laughed so hard I cried — you see, truth hurts.
Spontaneous abdominal hemorrhages, brought me into spasmodic shock, stopped my world in an agony I’d hoped never to feel again, and demanded I tell my loved ones, “I love you.” The best treatment? Dilaudid, a transfusion of blood, fluids, and time. I received the gift of life; if you are able, please donate blood.
“I live under the umbrella of a terminal condition; my favorite day is a rainy one.” At least, that’s what I told the emergency doctor the next week. I’d returned after 2 days of heavy menstrual bleeding, in pain, with no color, and wondering if I were dying, again.
I actually love the rain. It’s a balm to my soul. It makes my hair curl, my mood softer, my attention more focused. I feel at home. Herein lies the gift of chronic illness, it highlights the most important things in a person’s life.
Now, one month from a helicopter flight to life-giving medical treatment, I’m healing faster than I could have imagined. The hematoma in my abdomen is smaller. My range of motion is greater. The neuropathy in my left leg - at least, it matches the neuropathy in my right leg.
How? Grounding. Quality food. Supplemental support. Deep sleep. Boundaries on my energy. Asking for help. Reciprocal love. Connection to the inspiring stories of others.
My clients ask, “how do I take this journey to health and well being?” I encourage, and suggest the techniques above. I teach the things that support my own journey. If I can walk up to Death’s door and be healthy enough to recover - it’s information worth sharing. More than that, I am revived on my clients’ stories of winning - their stories of courage - strength in the face of their human condition.
Perhaps, the third time will be the charm. Perhaps, I won’t survive the next catastrophic incident. In the meantime, thank you for sharing the journey. I hope we’ll grow healthier and stronger together.