One Way to Start the Year -- Out of Order
It’s been a while since I have posted, and it has not been an “out of sight, out mind” situation. Annoyingly, I came down with pneumonia right after Christmas. I was blessed that by having weak lungs it made me extremely sensitive to it, allowing for it to be caught early.
On the flip side, having weak lungs and an allergy to a key component in treating the pneumonia can make it just as difficult to get over. I have had pneumonia before and chest pain is nothing new to me. Yet, the real blessing is that I rarely get pneumonia, and I stupidly had forgotten how vulnerable I can be to it.
One might thing, having no voice as my lungs were doing double duty in fighting the bacteria and circulating oxygen in my blood (or whatever lungs fully do), that writing might have been a necessary outlet. Once I had finally broken my fever and got my sweats under control, I thought so too.
I was wrong.
My thoughts have been, and continue to be a giant muddle— amusing from the sidelines but exhausting to endure. I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, (PTSD), diagnosed over a decade ago thanks to doctors who dismissed their lack of medical explanation by blaming me. In hearing I had PTSD I found liberation, having an explanation if why I had could be so out of control, without reason or rationality in certain situations. It gave me the gift to give myself a break, and my mother patience and understanding so she could help me through it. In many ways just telling me over and over I was in a flare up, helping me to not feel helpless, helps get me through it. But even after a decade we’re still learning. With awareness of triggers and learning clues that help get me out of it, I was able to get my life back under control. Now my PTSD is limited to only having flare ups rather than a continuous haunting.
Normally I can keep the flare ups to short, sporadic spurts, typically brought on by some foolish doctor, or by my terror at the possibility of a doctor may or may not do. Rarely does it come with me being bed bound for some reason or other as was the case this time.
Perhaps one day I can articulately share the experience of having a running audio soundtrack in my hand that plays of my past haunting doctors, making me not just second guess my judgement but to the fourth or fifth extent.
Yet it’s okay. If we were together in person, you wouldn’t know it. The constant dialogue being a mere background noise only making me seem distracted. Really it’s only visible on the outside when I’m confiding in my closest, or, as it is with you, reader, I’m writing, which is when I share most anyway.
For now, this is just an update that I have not gone away, rather am simply trying to rest up and recover to share more of Camelot and my tales.
A most irksome way to a start year. However maybe it’s just getting all the crummy stuff over with first.