“You’re showing signs of remission.”
The words every patient wants to hear… until they’re followed with:
“We think your symptoms are due to your post-surgical anatomy. Consider this your new normal.”
Awesome. So I can’t eat like a normal person. I can’t exercise like a normal person. I can’t even perform a stream of normal daily tasks like a normal person.
My normal is just east of normal. Better, but not quite there. And not only will I never get there, I should just stop trying.
But then I slap myself upside the head.
I may feel like several cement trucks ran me over when I get up in the mornings, and I may experience several severe bouts of nausea throughout the day (I might even hurl), and I just may have a severe stomach ache, one that makes me look pregnant and doubles me over, but I am still alive. I have the privilege of groaning myself awake every morning. I’m granted the opportunity to trudge through each day, and I have a beautiful family to come home to each night, no matter how much we drive each other crazy.
I’m living this thing called life, and not everyone gets to.
I almost didn’t.
If east of normal is what I’ve been dealt, I’ll accept it graciously. It allows me to relish each day I get, pains and all, to the fullest. I will find positives in everything, no matter how scarce they seem. Life is meant to be lived and loved, and I aim to do that, no matter how bad it all seems.