My poor hurting brother was in the hospital today… He was set for an angiogram, he’s been having heart pain again. During his angiogram, they decided to go ahead and give him a new shunt too. (Is it a shunt, a stent? Stint stent stunt, shint shent shunt… I forget) Anway, I was his dutiful companion, aid, and chauffeur… I managed to get up early for the 8am appointment just fine, as always this meant no real sleep, but I felt ok – even without my morning boost of happy coffee.
But here’s the revelation of improvement in the tiniest of things – I parked in a parking garage and had to walk. Those of you with CFS know what I’m talking about… the looming, sweating, palpating fear: “Walk exactly how far??? Ramps?? Hills? Stairs??” These thoughts never even occurred to me! That’s how amazing this experience was. I remember having been to this hospital before (and I wasn’t a patient) and gauging every painful aching step, wondering how soon I would be able to sit, wondering if I could even make it down the hallway, and my previous visits hadn’t included any parking ramps.
Today I managed going back to my car three times, traversing these parking ramps that other ‘normal’ people wouldn’t even notice, walking down the hallways without even a thought of sitting down to rest. There, in my mind, I’ve exactly quantified my 40% improvement.
Make no mistake though, after transporting him, sitting in the hospital room during his procedure, conversing with the nursing staff, making him comfortable when he came back from his surgery and then transporting him home, a total of 8.5 hours – I’m deadwater exhausted: finished, zombied, cattywhompus brained.
So Chronic Fatigue spoke twice to me today – I am better than I had ever hoped even in the tiniest of realms, and yet still stuck in the muddy mire of always being on the precipice of exhaustion.
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