Thankfully I listened to my doctor, and got them sooner rather than later. Her argument was that by the time I know I need them, it will have been too late. She was right. After 3 days in a wheel chair, two weeks after telling her I didn't think they were necessary, I owe her a hug. Is it OK to hug your doctor? Mine are quickly becoming as familiar as my parents. I really want to hug them sometimes. A lifetime of being sent to shrinks and given anxiety meds wears on a girl. Now, I see 2-3 doctors a week, and not one of them sends me away feeling crazy. Oddly enough, I haven't had an anxiety pill in weeks, even with everything going on. Just haven't needed one. That's a perk.
Hubby wanted to know what I'd like for Christmas. Health? Peace of mind? To know I won't be alone if my blood pressure nose dives and I can't move? Yep, that one. I'll take the challenges, just don't leave me alone.
So we shopped together...
It occurred to me what a bummer it could be that I need medical equipment for Christmas. Then it occurred to me how fortunate I am that I can afford it (well, mostly), and that my husband didn't even blink. "Of course, I've been looking at wheelchairs so you don't have to worry about school or your speaking." And I cried. The phone case? It's just freaking cute! And mine is old. Now I can keep it around my wrist when I'm walking. I won't always need it like that, but some days I feel worse than others. Options are good.
A friend laughed with me over the awesome story I'll have to tell about that time I took an Introduction to Brain and Behavior final in a recliner. The proctor even let me go into the bathroom stall alone to pee. Good thing it wasn't a drug test! HAHA!! Get it? No? Yes? I mean, sure, it would have been more interesting had she insisted on coming in, but hey, I can't have all of the coolest stories. But seriously, try keeping POTS under control in the middle of a horrible flare up, without all those water bottles? Not happening. It is annoying how often I'm interrupted to pee the last 4 days, but hey, I'm walking on my own again! Haven't even had a close call in over 20 hours. Maybe I'll just use our camping potty when no one else is home so I can keep working! Most of my neighbors will just laugh anyway. This could work...
How are you, by the way? My life got so crazy, it's been hard to keep up on what's happening with the people I care about. My Bestie called for a pep talk because she hates research papers and I'm a big fat nerd, so love them. That's what we need in these moments: to still feel normal, needed, seen for our strengths. Tonight she and I are going to see the new Star Wars and eat Cafe Rio. Normal. Blissful. Mundane. I'll take it.
There's what I really want for Christmas. When I struggle with flare ups, will you remember I'm still the same me? I get it's freaky to see me in a wheel chair, short of breath for the first, even 50th time. That's cool. I'll tell you I'm just being dramatic so we can relax. And I can see the concern on your face. It's really OK to ask. I need to talk about this. It's a relief you do, too. Makes me feel more normal. If possible, will you pull up a chair, though? Or help me move to a place we can see eye to eye? Tipping my head up in that thing makes me dizzy, and I want to see you. We all need to be seen just as we are. All of us. So help me see you, too, even if I'm in my chair.
And sometimes the dizzy hits without warning. Let me know if it's OK to hang on to your arm. On my strong days, I'll give you mine in a heartbeat, because I still can. But only on good days, or we'll both be trying to get up off the floor! Yes, it will be a great story later, and we will laugh at it, but maybe let's not press our luck on shaky days. It will mean more than I can say though, on my good days, when you remember how strong, courageous, and down right stubborn I am. Let me be there for you, too, as much as I can. Now and then, I just can't. But most of the time, nothing has changed.
So I guess that's what I needed to say today. For Christmas this year, and every year, when you see me, really see me. And please let me really see you. Let's be weak and strong, brave and scared, nervous and comfortable--together.
I might be in a chair next time, maybe in the hospital for observation, or testing. And maybe I'll be on a run, or figuring out how to do my PiYo in my new leg braces. Whatever is happening in either of our lives though, don't let it distance us. You can teach me patience, acceptance and surrender. I'll help you out with compassion, seeing people instead of disability, and how to laugh when life hits you in the head. We can do this, and if we do it together, we will both be better for it. That's what I want for Christmas.
Oh! And a new Dominion expansion pack! ...I kinda spent my Christmas money on a wheelchair bag for the hard days.
Now to eat lunch and get the reading list created for the Psychology of Sex and Gender I get to help instruct next term! I've got this...so do you!
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