There’s a certain amount of dismay that comes with not knowing if you’ll ever get better when you’re sick. Each day that comes without any improvement makes it harder and harder to believe that your existence will every be anything more than the discomfort of that day.
I am lucky enough to have a wife who, while not an unreasoning optimist, is at least willing to pretend to be when I need to generate a little hope. It’s one of the things I value most about her. I try to do the same for her when she’s feeling down or uncertain. We are a mutual encouragement society.
So now that I’m feeling better, there’s a certain amount of sameness that happens as you get used to the new normal. Where before you spent the time wondering how bad it was going to be the next day, you now just get used to being able to ignore your body and spend your time on doing things that you used to not be able to do.
The hardest thing is getting yourself motivated to move out of that routine and take on something new. When you[‘re not quite ready to believe that you’re really past the worst, you are caught between wanting to start taking chances to prove you’re ok and being afraid to in case you’re not.
So it’s just another day, but I keep hoping that it’s the start of a whole lot of better days.