I started another post— but I’m so down and it doesn’t really feel right to just pretend that everything is okay all the time— thats not how life is. And I didn’t want to taint a happy post of photos and moments with my bummed out words. You guys obviously know very well how not okay this year has been— how truly hard it’s been. And really, I’m bummed about it— not just for myself, but I hate that it’s been crowding into this space so much. I hate that it’s enough to bring me down at all. I hate that—- well, I love that even now, when I feel like crying I’m realizing that my post is sounding a bit too much like Ten Things I Hate About You… which I guess is a good reminder that my head still floats to ridiculous and uplifting places even when I’m sad, sick, and feeling like I’m about to pass out.
But I’ve just really had enough of this up and down thing. I’ve had enough of this sickness. I’ve had enough of this feeling— whatever feeling this is and whatever feelings I’ve felt. And I hate that I’m so angry about it right now. I’ve been pushed and prodded and told (by myself and by others) that I should have been better by now. Why? By myself: because I wanted to believe that I was stronger than being sick for this long. From others: well, probably because they don’t know any better. Yes, I was previously a young, healthy individual, but that means nothing when it comes to c. diff. The more I’ve reached out or have been reached out to– the more I’m realizing that there is no short term shortcut to recovery from c. diff. I’m actually in a better place than most would be right now. That 20,000 are dead. That some are still bedridden now, 5 months in. And I’m not bedridden— not all the time anyway. And I want to believe that means something– but I’m still not happy…. right now. Sometimes I am, actually most of the time I am, but there are times like right now where it all just hits me and I’m sitting here, struggling with my emotions and wishing so badly that life could be how it was once again. Never again will I take my health and wellness for granted. Not ever. My head flows with all these different thoughts of where I should be or what I should think— but really, I think I should have been more open to the fact that I would not recover as quickly as I would like. That all those stories of post c. diff symptoms and struggles that people encountered– that I wouldn’t be much different. I’m not invincible. I’m strong and determined, I’ve proved that to myself, but everything can be thrown off rail and I am no different. And let’s not forget all the other complications— that I still have found no answers to. When pushing my concerns of “why do I have these body aches and pains now?” to one of the better c. diff and fecal transplant researchers— I’m finding answers like, “we don’t know. we just put all the different aftermath symptoms into a post infectious c diff category.” Great. “post infectious c. diff” a place for the people with no answers. With no solutions. The only thing offered? Anti depressants— or wait— get this— more antibiotics. And for what exactly? Well— nothing. A hope that they might do something— and if not, the opportunity of a fecal transplant. I’m not depressed. I’m sad and frustrated. I know the difference. I struggled long and hard in the past. I know the difference. And I don’t desire a reinfection and fecal transplant— I want stability in this copout “post infection c diff” box.
I’ve spent the last three days with a fever. I’ve spent the last three days on my feet, pushing and pushing to make memories with my family– to try to act normal despite my pain— to try bring upon smiles— why? Because I love them more than anything and I hate what this year has done to all of us. No one around me has deserved this. And in the end of the weekend of pushing and pushing? I cried. A lot. I want to be stronger, happier, better for them. I’m tired of being the bomb that ruins day, weekends, months, and an entire year. And I know I’m a hormonal wreck with my period finally coming back full force after months of being thrown off, but man, this week is hard on me. And I know everyone around me has been patient, and loving, and understanding, and beyond helpful— but I don’t want to be helped— I want to be helping. I want to be helpful. I want to be the one that makes everyone happy and creates all the amazing memories. I’m tired of being the weight— the one that makes everyone stressed, or sad, or scared— or left feeling helpless. I know I made a mistake in taking an antibiotic, but I know this year is not my fault— regardless I still feel terrible. I want to be better for them.
My rational side is now listening to the recovery stories and letting myself understand that I’m not alone– that I’m not some weird case that hasn’t recovered— that I am in fact part of the norm– that recovery is long. I knew that. I never wanted to hear it or believe it. I wanted to believe that the other complications would mend and that I would too. I haven’t yet, but I am not alone.
My rational side knows that my family is okay— far from great, but they are okay and they will be okay. But I still struggle knowing that each day is so tremendously uncertain.
My rational side knows that struggles are part of life— I’ve been through them before and I’ve made it out alive each time and that with enough determination I can fully and completely crawl out of this one day too.
My rational side knows I’m not dead. I’m not dying. That contrary to popular belief, c diff. is not just for the elderly, that THOUSANDS of people– young and old and even children die from this terrible illness– but I did not. And for that I am grateful. And one day I will fully live again.
But I’m not okay. I haven’t been physically okay for months and it’s emotionally catching up. I know stress isn’t going to do me any good— I’ve been okay with letting a lot of things slide and allowing the stress to lesson, but I know I’m at that breaking point where I just have to emotionally be open, honest, and release all these fears because they aren’t going anywhere. And just as physical toxins are bad, so are emotional ones.
I’ve gone through a whirlwind of emotions just in writing this point over the last two hours— and broke down somewhere in the middle with a heavy ugly cry. I’ve come back to calm. Maybe I’ll delete this later– I don’t know– I don’t really do that– I’m more of a put it all out there and deal with it type. I want to write more about c diff facts and prevention and everything else later— because more than half a million people will come down with c diff this year— and even if I can help precent one person, then that means something— but I don’t want to get into that now, not when I’m all tangled up in emotions. Like I said, I hate to be the downer— but more than that, I hate to be dishonest. Sorry and thank you for the rant fest. I had no real point to this post other than to release—I don’t want pity. There are millions of people in much worse situations than me. I’m grateful for what I have– because I do have a lot– really, I have everything I’ve ever wanted. But if I can just bring it all back to one thing that I hope to get across, it’s this: don’t take your health for granted.
*photo taken months ago by: chelsae anne