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My invicibility is wearing off
For more than a year, I’ve been learning how challenging it is to keep going to work and keep some semblance of normal in my life when I’d really prefer to stay in bed.
I had no idea arthritis could be so horrible. No idea, of course, because I was uneducated.
I have secretly been terrified for more than a year. My life — as I love to live it — is changing. My mobility is no longer something I can take for granted. I am not in control. I sometimes imagine arthritis as one of those little Pacman monsters traveling up my back, into my hip, my knee and both feet, eating away at my bones.
Over Thanksgiving weekend, I was blessed to spend time alone with my son at the place I love best in the world. But I could not walk on the beach with him. So he walked the beach alone — because I insisted. And I cried until I couldn’t get my breath.
In six weeks, I have undergone two surgeries to repair joint damage. During that six weeks, I celebrated my 50th birthday with wonderful, longtime friends, in my pajamas, with my feet bandaged.
Until the last year, I mistakenly thought I was Super Woman. Actually, I’ve lived my entire life as if nothing can get me. Not the challenges of raising a child alone. Not the bad marriages. Not the difficult jobs or very mean people I’ve had to deal with over and over again.
But I was so wrong.
I do not have a cape. I do not have some special power to ward off anything.
And arthritis has got me. Right around the neck.
I have learned some wonderful lessons … lots of them in the midst of big bawling sessions. I definitely know how precious any day is — especially a good day. And I shamefully admit now that I took all of the days before lately for granted.
I can finally say I’m thankful for this experience. It has shown me that I am not nor do I have to pretend to be invincible. Many people don’t mind to help me. And I have learned that I will not actually choke to death when I do have to ask for help.
So many people in the world have so much worse to deal with. And I am thankful that since I obviously have to cope with this; it’s something that forces me to slow down. Forces me to understand exactly what I am … vulnerable and human. It forces me to sit longer, listen more closely and redefine my tomorrows.
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