I didn't pack for this journey.
The truth is, I have one good day out of every 14. At least that’s what I’m calculating as I follow my symptoms and progress. One day every two weeks when I have energy, feel excited about work, family, life. The other 13 days are a mixed bag of napping, weak legs and fatigue. When I’m not feeling well, I really struggle. But when I’m feeling good, I am GREAT!
Continue reading “A Grateful Heart”
I’m starting to think one of the true hallmarks of a really good disease (if there is such a thing) is measured by the number of tubes needed to complete your blood tests.
This year I’ve been to the lab half-a-dozen times for blood draws and urine samples. Perhaps one of the best things to come from it is learning that my wife wasn’t trying to poison me with Arsenic.
At some point this year, my life changed. It started as a gradual shift from being active, engaged, social to a version of myself that is fatigued, cane-using, doctor-visiting, discouraged.
What started as gradual, raged with a vengeance and all of the sudden, my life was different. The sound of Cicadas buzzing in my ears is ever-present. My ability to walk several miles was replaced with a struggle to make it to the end of the yard and back. Daily naps and early bedtimes paired with wobbly legs and a spinning sensation. These and many other symptoms are the new normal.
All-in-all, not the way I wanted to enter my golden years.