I sat in my ophthalmologist’s office and waited for my eyes to dilate. An elderly man – Tom – asked me about my orthotic shoes. He wondered if Medicare paid for them. When I informed him I wasn’t old enough for Medicare, he began a monologue about his insurance. I listened – strictly because I felt the obligation of synchronicity – and my body began to profusely sweat. A thick goo wet my hair and head. Soon I felt too nauseated to concentrate or to participate. I began to pray, “Jesus help me. Oh my God.” And at that moment I didn’t know how I’d endure. The nurse called my name and I stood up and steadied myself. I flattened my shoes and locked my knees. I asked myself how long I’d be able to go on. How long could I tolerate feeling so awful? I asked myself if the side effects superseded the benefits. I don’t know. I don’t have answers.
My light fixture in my dining room didn’t work. I replaced bulbs. But I’m literally in the dark about electrical repair. I asked my buddy Greg if he’d fix it. He said he would so today I went to Menards to buy a new fixture. Menards is a double storied warehouse and the electrical department is on the top floor in the corner. I rode the elevator to the second floor and walked toward the light fixtures. And I felt too weak to walk. I began to pray, “Jesus help me. Please don’t let me die in this store.” I worried who would tell my parents when I didn’t come home. I felt so nauseated, weak, and lightheaded that I sat on the two story stairs until I felt strong enough to walk. People walked around me like I was a drunk. I didn’t care. I felt too sick to care.
I went home and sat on a chair for 90 minutes and tried to restore my strength and settle my stomach.
When my buddy repaired my fixture (it was merely the wrong light bulbs – I had non dimmer bulbs in the sockets and I have a dimmer) I insisted on taking him to supper to repay his kindness. We walked quite slowly into the restaurant. I sat and tried to get strength. And then I knew.
I can’t. I don’t have the strength.
I can’t socialize. I don’t have the strength for conversation. Hell, I’m too tired to listen. How can someone be too exhausted to hear? I don’t know.
My new mantra: “I don’t think I can do this.” I pray it all day long. Sentence after step. “God I don’t think I can do this.”
Tomorrow – heart tests. Monday Cardiologist appointment. Jesus let’s hope they’ll do the procedure and repair me. Soon. I don’t see the electrophysiologist until mid May. Maybe the play after the procedure. We’ll see.
I’ll continue to take the new medicine. It gives me an hour each day to function enough to accomplish my necessary tasks. But this new medicine is hard. It makes me so sick.
Have you ever been too sick to care? Just numb? I’m numb.
I’ve always prided myself on my grit. I’ve always been the one who wouldn’t quit. But today I learned I’m not the same. Will has nothing to do with it. I just don’t think I can do it.