I feel like I am at the top of a hill looking down a deep crevasse.
As I look down, I can’t see much. It’s dark but I have visions of wheelchairs, hospital beds, tears, pill bottles, syringes, a wheelchair ramp, and someone resembling me.
The journey up this hill was long and tiring but I know what it’s like going up this side of hill. It’s now familiar. I don’t know what’s on the other side. At the top of the hill, I don’t know enough about the other side to be frightened yet. I do know I could fall in the crevasse. I don’t know enough to let my guilt and disappointment take over. I may quickly be thrown over the other side – forced to face realities that I’m not ready for. I may slide down the hill either quickly or slowly. I may go down the other side at my own pace.
I’ve been doing my best to not acknowledge some emotions that I feel have the potential to break me. I can’t even write them here because they elicit such a strong response that I am not ready for.
Today, I found out the date for my son’s school field trip to the zoo and started to fill out a time off request slip. I can’t go to the zoo trip. My walking ability is so limited and the zoo is so big. At least for now: no diagnosis, no real treatment and only a cane – I can’t go. I can’t go for my own safety and I can’t go as a helper as I can’t chase after a group of kids right now.
I truly believe that life is random. Chance is attracted to me. I met my husband by chance. I ended up in my career path by chance. Chance is not always my friend. By chance, I ended up as a loving, generous person who is related to people who lean toward the selfish side. By chance, I’m standing at the top of this hill looking down all alone.
Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: | chronic ilness, disability
Preachin’ to the choir, sista!