We Will Overcome

Dear readers, when Hurricane Maria hammered Puerto Rico, things looked dim and my thoughts constantly drifted back and forth.

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One of the experiences that took a toll on my mental health was when I stood in line with my husband outside a supermarket, we frequently go to, and waited for instructions on how we were going to purchase some groceries we needed at home.  Part of the process was to write it down on a piece of paper, and then when my turn came I was to tell her how many of each, and she would tell us if the item we wanted was available.  That shook me to my core! Groceries that I had always purchased became a commodity, worry stormed me as I thought about my six-year-old at home.

Was food scarce? Was this going to be how things were going to be from now on? I felt so overwhelmed that I thought I was going to be sick.

News about the ports on the island, the gasoline shortage, the destruction of our communication infrastructure, and electrical grid stormed us day and night. At some point, I didn’t know if my husband’s portable radio was a blessing or a curse.

Nothing that was happening prevented the Sun to come down and then come shining once again after the night. The planet continued its spin and acceptance of the events came with it.

I even came used to  the constant sound of  of the Army combat helicopters blades as they flew all day  through our mountainside working on a nearby dam. My husband served in the Army Reserve so for him it wasn’t a thing, however for me it was.  I could only think about people who live in a combat zone, even if in our case they were here for a humanitarian reason.

The important thing was that we were fine, maybe without the commodities we usually enjoyed, but we had enough.  Our house was still standing and we learned to use the resources we had at hand, and when things eventually returned to normalcy I’ve made sure to practice gratitude each day of my life, even if life does bring me storms.

Living with Myasthenia Gravis is one of those storms, and even if it’s  tidal waves come storming into my everyday life without mercy every now and then, leaving me frightened about my future, I  face it with courage, looking at it straight in the eye and saying to myself, “I will overcome this.”

And I do my dear friend, and you will too.  Never loosing sight of the important things in life because that’s whats going to pull us through all our storms.

Thanks for stopping by and keeping me company on this treacherous road to wellness and remember always be kind to yourself and others.

 

 

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Prognosis: Hope

Dear snowflakes, as the days spent in the hospital fade away and I get on with getting a little bit better each day I wonder about how I feel about the guarded prognosis I got when I was discharged from the hospital.

Guarded in medical terms roughly means that, it is usually more ill than a serious prognosis, but not as ill as critical. The doctor is not exactly sure of what the patient’s probability for recovery might be, but they still believe that the patient has a (slight) chance of recovery.

For those of us who live with MG that “slight chance” can be filled with what ifs.

I need to hold on the that slight chance of recovery.

Recovery to a place where I was before, a healthy place. A place where I can go on with my life without worrying to much about the tight schedule I have for my meds, or about taking frequent breaks just to do some housework, or trying to not stress out too much, or keeping cool in this hell of a summer.

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via morguefile

Breaking those new frontiers of wellness can be achieved if I hold on to hope.

Hope is the motor that moves me forward. It heals my spirit and calms my body.

Hope gives that “slight chance of recovery” a whole new light.

Hope is the foundation for our doctors, nurses and caregivers.  Hope is what keeps everybody believing things will get better.

Like my neurologist told me today, “if you’re not worse, than you’re better.”

His affirmation comes from two different places, like if it’s not right than it’s left.  I don’t know if I was supposed to feel good about it, but at least I didn’t feel bad either. It felt like a pat on the shoulder with a push hiding somewhere.

My experience with Gamma is that is usually makes me sicker to than get me better. Crazy dichotomy, but it’s the reality of my realm.

Facing the possibility of a new treatment ahead of me in a couple of weeks, if this one doesn’t kick off is not something I want to think about to much. Specially with Solaris being something relatively new. With all the side effects that it surely will tag along is a challenge that lays ahead.

Nonetheless, I will continue to hang on to my hope.  Not only to hang on to it by myself, but to be grateful for it each day.  And as the day rises and all the sounds of the new day begin announcing happily that we get to live one more day on this blue ball in the Universe I’ll write in my prayer book in contemplation asking my dear Lord to fulfill my heart and heal my body with an everlasting and eternal stream of hope.

Thanks for sharing with me a little bit of your time, be kind to yourself and remember we all heal in different ways we just need to figure out which one works for each one of us.

See you on my road to recovery.