We live as a group on a very high stress level, using our adrenalins and cortisol to the extreme...at first it's mostly healthy and a bit sick and then it becomes mostly sick and a bit healthy...And we accept it while negotiating with God...'I can live with this...if only it doesn't get any worse' or 'just let me survive this one and I won't ask for anything else'...then it becomes a permanent state of war between us and our bodies, constant battles and struggles just to survive the day, the night or the weekend without falling apart...Then finally there is the moment when we reach the last straw...the public embarassement or the private hell or the night when we can't stop soiling ourselves and just sit in the tub and let it pour out of us...we all have the moment When we finally decide to jump...And then we pray that the surgeon is skilled, the surgery goes well and the post-op is without complications...which are often the norm for most of us.
And then if we are lucky, a month, a year or 2 later we get our lives back. We don't realise the milestones at first...a movie with friends, a dinner out or a night when we sleep 8 hrs...they are nothing for most people but for us they are tiny miracles.
And then we look around us and see the shambles that has become our life.
Lost years often means lost jobs, friends, family, mobility, finances and general health. Children who have grown up without our presence, bosses who have forgotten our names and bodies that have forgotten how to function normally. And that is if we are lucky.
I woke up yesterday and hit the wall. I have lost my last job. I can no longer afford groceries, I am living off of what is left of my meager savings. I call my old clients and they barely remember my name...it has been over 5 years.
I have cancelled cell phone and magazines and am down to the bare minimum. I am out of options.
And I am still paying the medical bills. (private doctors cost a lot).
I seem to have lost me to my disease...And I am not cured, just better.
And suddenly I have the time to realise that I cannot afford the next surgery (spoke with dr. C who needs to reattach my pouch before my valve is permanently damaged and I just can't afford to bring him over or go there to do it)...
I have too much time now and realise that there is nothing left of my life or dreams. Not even a wish.
Hubby is exhausted from all of the yrs of my health and wants a little 'him time'...I don't have the energy.
I want work, I want income, I want my independance back but it feels like it is too late...I have sent out 100's of C.V.s with no responses. I feel lost. And lonely. The phone no longer rings..Days on end of silence.
This illness has just taken too much out of me.