Some people collect comic books, others, sea shells, but I, I collect hospital bracelets.
There was once a time when the medical world was simply an inconvenience to my life; a time when a doctor's visit was a mandatory annual physical, and I suffered most from trypanophobia (the fear of needles). Ah, how times change. Now, my shelves are lined by notebooks containing my medical records, food and bowel movement logs, medical bills, weight charts, symptom lists, medical encyclopedias, nutritional science books, books on chronic pain, books on meditation, and countless bottles of prescription drugs. I average 1.5 doctors visits a week (if not more), and have my surgeon's personal cell phone on speed dial. The nurses and doctors at my favorite emergency room know more about what's going on in my personal life than most of my extended family, and always hope they never see me again (for my sake). I have had so many tests done that I often consider changing my middle name to "Pin Cushion," or "Guinea Pig." Trypanophobia is a thing of past, as I now show the phlebotomist the best vein for blood and hold the record for most tubes taken in one sitting at a Stanford Lab {17 tubes}. These days, I feel so at home in a place that used to be my hell on earth, except that now I know everything will be okay so long as I am there (#myworryfreezone).
Nearly every person I talk to about my health in-depth asks, "How can you live like that?" Simple: One moment at a time. After all, life is made up of thousands of moments. It is overwhelming to consider having to live in agony for the remainder of one's life, BUT if I just have to endure pain and sickness right now it becomes manageable. There are, however, many days I wish I could suffer acute pain, because that only lasts a short duration. It is the chronicity of my illness that makes it insufferable at times; not knowing when relief will come, or when a flare will strike again. I live in constant fear of sickness [especially publicly].
Distracting myself, though, is not the solution. The times I try to ignore the fact that I am indeed, a "sick" person, only makes it worse. I have found that instead of hating the pain, it hurts less if I love it. If I am patient with my upset stomach, or give attention to the serrated knives stabbing my pelvis, it does not pain me as much. To be mindful of the war waging inside me allows me self-regulate my angst and relax in the midst of agony. Pain and suffering are only what we allow them to be. It used to be that the fear of sickness impeded the progression of my life, a depressing reality; now my dreams are undeterred by my illness. Life itself transcends any ailment that tries to thwart my good spirits, so long as I live, I win.
For the desolate and dreary days, life yields abundant beauty. This beauty is my secret to happiness. I am not a thinker and it is rare that I contemplate deeply the matters of the world or dwell on circumstance, my physical condition has never allowed me to be that kind of person. Rather, I was designed to absorb all the beauty life has to offer. All my life I have been enchanted by the simplest of things: dandelion seeds dancing in the wind, the vibrant color of leaves changing in the fall, or trees dusted by the winter's first snowfall. The beauty of nature astounds me time and again; this beauty is my most intoxicating painkiller, my drug of choice. There are many 'things' to distract me from the pain, but there are few that can subdue it. Nature is most certainly one of them.
So. How do I endure a life so stricken by illness? I embrace life, for it is not guaranteed. I allow myself to be inspired, to be hopeful. And I make everyday my masterpiece.
I leave with you, a short video that motivates and inspires me:
With love,
Miss Morgan
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