A Chronic Dose | A blog about chronic illness, healthcare, and writing.

And So It Goes…

Usually, I try to craft posts that can stand on their own, essay-type pieces that converge on some central insight or theme about illness and identity that go beyond the minutiae of my own daily life.

That’s usually.

Today I have no larger issue at stake, no idealistic nugget of reflection or speculation.

Right now, I am just frustrated. Frustrated that I woke up yesterday morning and for no apparent reason (or infection), could not breathe and had searing pain in my chest. Frustrated that instead of attending my Saturday fellowship meeting, I was hooked to a neb for hours. Frustrated that I missed my friend’s party and didn’t get to the pile of work or the trip to the gym because I couldn’t sit up without losing my breath.

But deep down, I am more frustrated by the amount of information presented to us at a fetal medicine high-risk consult this past week—or, as it were, all the variables involved in this quest that we have no control over. I am frustrated because I feel so overwhelmed, and every scenario on the table is rife with conditionals and unknowns and extenuations. I am frustrated because right now I can barely find room for joy amidst all the risks and percentiles and negotiations, frustrated that even the encouraging pieces of news seem momentarily drowned out by everything else. Frustrated because I thrive on being in control and crave concrete facts, and I cannot each out and get either of those right now.

I am frustrated because lately when I see babies, tears spring to my eyes without warning and I have no control over that, either. I am frustrated because my body has brought me nothing but complications since the moment I was born and right now I want just one thing, this one thing, to be uncomplicated. I don’t want to have to fight so hard, or give up so much.

And lastly, I am frustrated because I know sound whiny and self-indulgent and everything else I dislike so much and while I should have control over that, too, I don’t.

And that’s it, no threads or parallel narratives to tie together, no concluding statements that wrap it all up neatly and succinctly. Not today, anyway.